I hadn’t heard it before, even though James had linked to it two years ago, but it’s a great song, sung by Eliza Carthy with just the right kind of wistful melancholy undertone to it.
But what such cutesy nicknames obscure is that R&B music—and black American culture more widely—has embraced fantasy, sci-fi, or other “nerdy” subcultural tropes more often than many people realize. From the space-travel fantasias of Sun Ra and George Clinton in the ’70s to the Wu-Tang Clan’s Shaolin kung-fu obsession in the ’90s to the present day—when 2012’s most widely acclaimed album, R&B singer Frank Ocean’s Channel Orange, includes a nine-minute odyssey imagining the ancient Egyptian empire reincarnated on the Las Vegas Strip— black musicians have drawn from the same wellsprings of imagination and popular culture as everyone else.
Well, yeah. Moreover, Black musicians have not just drawn on those wellsprings, they’ve replenished them as well. People like George Clinton or Sun Ra were not just influenced by fantasy or science fiction, they also composed their own epics. Clinton especially with his parliamentfunkadelicgroovethang was just as creative in developing their own cosmology as Jack Kirby was in developing his Fourth World. It’s just that these contributions often go unrecognised. Black geekdom, Black interest in science fiction and fantasy is still strange, still dangerous.
I didn’t think it would’ve been possible to cover Nine Inch Nails’ Hurt in Dutch, but the Heideroosjes manage to pull it off; it’s almost as good as the Johnny Cash version below. The only difference is that Cash brought a history of a life lived with regrets and pain in a way that somebody in his mid-thirties, no matter how good a musician just cannot do. In both cases this is a very masculine song, a very male emotional mix of regret and crippling doubt, self pity and genuine pain, defiantly shouted at the world.