Drico's Songs That Matter: Being Boring (1990)
Drico's Songs That Matter: Being Boring (1990)
Being Boring (1990)
The main reason I take a deep interest in the work of Tennant and Lowe is their ability to fuse life-affirming music with prescient melancholic lyrics. Whether bleak or resurgent, Chris Lowe's accompaniment always seems to complement Neil Tennant's wordplay. Sometimes, there's a dichotomy between the two, with upbeat sonic dreamscapes providing the backdrop to downbeat vocal delivery. Sometimes, they match seamlessly going hand in glove with each intention and emotion.
With Fundamental's release around the corner, we're all about to embark on another wondrous journey into the PSB world, a synthesised cityscape of hopes and dreams, pain and loss, life and love. This gives us the opportunity to pore over each song and disect each hidden or personal meaning in a way that makes sense to us as individuals. This is something I intend to delve into in the coming weeks here as I offer my own personal perspectives on the PSB songs that truly matter to me. Hopefully, you will add your own perspectives on my choices.
Lately, I've found myself revisiting the PSB back catalogue as my anticipation for the latest release increases. Unfortunately, a recent and profound personal loss has me reading perhaps a little too much into the lyrics of certain songs. Yet, comfort is found in familiar friends, and Pet Shop Boys songs have often been the closest of companions. Being Boring is as good a song as any to start with. Yesterday, in looking at fans' interpretations of this most poignant of songs, I stumbled across an article I myself wrote for the superb 10 Years of Being Boring site about six years ago. Marcin Wichary asked me to contribute at the time, and I was flattered to do so. It's a strange experience reading one's own forgotten words after so long, all the more so when changed personal circumstances make the words and feelings all the more pronounced. Therefore, I propose to post that article here as a first step on the way to perhaps discussing the lyrics and meanings of classic PSB records. Feel free to offer your own personal feelings on the song.
Taken From 10yearsofbeingboring.com:
“She covered her face with powder and paint because she didn’t need it, and she refused to be bored chiefly because she wasn’t boring. She was conscious that the things she did were the things she had always wanted to do.”—Zelda Fitzgerald.
The quote attributed to the wife of F. Scott Fitzgerald adorns Being boring by Pet Shop Boys. More importantly, it infuses the song with its meaning. It places the reader and listener at the centre of the song. It places the song in a time, or more specifically, in times. And those times change. And change brings emotional turmoil. The woman in Zelda Fitzgerald’s mind obviously believed that she was resourceful enough to entertain herself. But it is her self-awareness that shows why. She was living out her dreams. And she knew it. She may have been an actress of some sort. She may have been a star. Either way, she knew she was centre-stage. And she was because she was living her life. Like we all do. Like we are the centre of our own universes. Because we are. We are the actors. And we sure as hell can hold our own attentions. Because we have presence. And we are conscious of our own star status in our own minds. Because in our own minds we are the only stars. It’s our universe. Our movie. Our life. And we don’t know where it is ending. The woman in Zelda’s mind was aware of the here and now. The present, in the things she did, and the past, in the things she had always wanted to do, are one. The future never arrives. It becomes the present and then the past. And she lives it as we do, because we can. And we know that once it is gone there is little for us to do than to look back and wonder why we did what we did and reminisce. All movies end. Just like lives. But the only video playback for us is our memory.
Any song that utilises nostalgia as a main theme is likely to be crass, sentimental, and rose-tinted. Nostalgia is a booming trade these days. Nothing is sacred. Not even memories. They inevitably become sepia-toned and improve with time. Rarely are they genuine. Or heart-felt. Being boring manages to avoid the excesses of nostalgia by remembering the pain of the past as well as the pleasure. Times change. People change. Emotions change. Time brings death and loss. And loss is never rose-tinted. True loss becomes only more manageable, because there is nothing else for us to do except manage it. It can never be dressed-up, just addressed. And in life, change brings only two things: enrichment and loss. We gain new friendships and experiences only by shedding previous ones. And sometimes, the old ones were deeper.
I can’t think of any other song by this English pop duo that could have me writing like I am right now. That’s not to say that I believe this to be their peak. I believe this to be their most emotionally prescient song. It’s the reason that this song is considered their best by many. It reflects the experiences of us all in some way or other. Some feel the meaning more acutely than others. But everybody old enough to regret feels its tug. It’s the story of life and lives. Of love and loss. Of hope and expectation. Of youth and experience. Of bitter reality and the passage of time. It’s a monument to the writing talents of Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe. It is also the most gloriously hyped song that this duo will ever construct. Because it is about us. And nobody is more important than us. Not to us. And who else matters?
To my mind, Being boring is a magical adventure. It’s life after all. Its brilliance lies in the manner in which Tennant and Lowe have distilled life into a seven minute pop song. Seven minutes sum up life. And the single reduces it further. Proof that commercial reality taints everything. Its UK chart debut of number 36 can be viewed as the day Tennant and Lowe lost their public. It can also be viewed as the day they gained immortality. The shedding of the teenage brigade for the intellectual high-brow guaranteed a longevity that the fads of the day could never hope to match. The fads of 1990 were New Kids On The Block and MC Hammer. Hammer time was up. That’s not to claim that number 36 was part of the plan. Not at all. But it showed a band that seemed intent on releasing what it regarded as its best work. While the eventual climb to number 20 precipitated a major re-think of commercial values, it also signified a determination to think independently and retain individuality. A stomping U2 cover brought the success back fleetingly, but subsequent releases like Jealousy, DJ Culture, Liberation, Before, and You only tell me you love me when you’re drunk showed that the charts were never again intended to be dominated as 1987. Success would be welcomed, even encouraged in leaner times, but never bought by the sale of values.
Detractors of Being boring are few. Detractors of the myth of Being boring are more easily found. And they are correct to identify a myth. The myth in question hacks at the true beauty of the song. It revolves around the selfish notion that Being boring is the PSB peak because “I’ve lost someone.” Being boring is considered by many to be an elegy. The narrator, Tennant, is not an old man. But he seems to have lost. And lost many. The lines “All the people I was kissing / Some are here and some are missing” suggest that some kind of plague or war has vanquished his loved ones. Tennant’s personal history and his pre-occupation with the consequences of AIDS, as evinced in songs like Domino dancing and Dreaming of the Queen, suggest that it is AIDS that has caused him such loss. To my mind, and I know that I’m being controversial here, some fans of the band have jumped on this as some form of personal collective vindication or expression of special poignancy. This is perfectly understandable in itself. But some then take this to extremes and will not hear of another song gaining more acclaim among the overall fan-base. AIDS has possibly touched more fans of this duo than some other bands, but let’s not obscure a simple fact: loss affects everyone. We all feel it. Maybe some have not lost as much as others. But the revisionist thinking that stops the PSB clock at November 1990 fails to address the simple fact that if this song was so touching to the fan-base, which was a lot larger then, why did it flop so badly? Too many people now think this song is the greatest PSB track for anyone to believe that they all rushed out and bought it in 1990. The myth grew over the years. It became a Stalinist point of fact. It became the song of snobbery. “Oh yes, Being boring was their best.” Yes, it might well be the greatest. But it might well not be either. Love this gorgeous record for itself, not for what others tell you to. It’s far too beautiful to become a cliché, the thing to say. The song to be seen with. Being boring is not a fashion accessory or a statement of superior taste or an expression of self-pity. It is a dignified distillation of life and loss. It’s a celebration of who we are and of what we do. Those things we had always wanted to do. And did.
Drico.
The main reason I take a deep interest in the work of Tennant and Lowe is their ability to fuse life-affirming music with prescient melancholic lyrics. Whether bleak or resurgent, Chris Lowe's accompaniment always seems to complement Neil Tennant's wordplay. Sometimes, there's a dichotomy between the two, with upbeat sonic dreamscapes providing the backdrop to downbeat vocal delivery. Sometimes, they match seamlessly going hand in glove with each intention and emotion.
With Fundamental's release around the corner, we're all about to embark on another wondrous journey into the PSB world, a synthesised cityscape of hopes and dreams, pain and loss, life and love. This gives us the opportunity to pore over each song and disect each hidden or personal meaning in a way that makes sense to us as individuals. This is something I intend to delve into in the coming weeks here as I offer my own personal perspectives on the PSB songs that truly matter to me. Hopefully, you will add your own perspectives on my choices.
Lately, I've found myself revisiting the PSB back catalogue as my anticipation for the latest release increases. Unfortunately, a recent and profound personal loss has me reading perhaps a little too much into the lyrics of certain songs. Yet, comfort is found in familiar friends, and Pet Shop Boys songs have often been the closest of companions. Being Boring is as good a song as any to start with. Yesterday, in looking at fans' interpretations of this most poignant of songs, I stumbled across an article I myself wrote for the superb 10 Years of Being Boring site about six years ago. Marcin Wichary asked me to contribute at the time, and I was flattered to do so. It's a strange experience reading one's own forgotten words after so long, all the more so when changed personal circumstances make the words and feelings all the more pronounced. Therefore, I propose to post that article here as a first step on the way to perhaps discussing the lyrics and meanings of classic PSB records. Feel free to offer your own personal feelings on the song.
Taken From 10yearsofbeingboring.com:
“She covered her face with powder and paint because she didn’t need it, and she refused to be bored chiefly because she wasn’t boring. She was conscious that the things she did were the things she had always wanted to do.”—Zelda Fitzgerald.
The quote attributed to the wife of F. Scott Fitzgerald adorns Being boring by Pet Shop Boys. More importantly, it infuses the song with its meaning. It places the reader and listener at the centre of the song. It places the song in a time, or more specifically, in times. And those times change. And change brings emotional turmoil. The woman in Zelda Fitzgerald’s mind obviously believed that she was resourceful enough to entertain herself. But it is her self-awareness that shows why. She was living out her dreams. And she knew it. She may have been an actress of some sort. She may have been a star. Either way, she knew she was centre-stage. And she was because she was living her life. Like we all do. Like we are the centre of our own universes. Because we are. We are the actors. And we sure as hell can hold our own attentions. Because we have presence. And we are conscious of our own star status in our own minds. Because in our own minds we are the only stars. It’s our universe. Our movie. Our life. And we don’t know where it is ending. The woman in Zelda’s mind was aware of the here and now. The present, in the things she did, and the past, in the things she had always wanted to do, are one. The future never arrives. It becomes the present and then the past. And she lives it as we do, because we can. And we know that once it is gone there is little for us to do than to look back and wonder why we did what we did and reminisce. All movies end. Just like lives. But the only video playback for us is our memory.
Any song that utilises nostalgia as a main theme is likely to be crass, sentimental, and rose-tinted. Nostalgia is a booming trade these days. Nothing is sacred. Not even memories. They inevitably become sepia-toned and improve with time. Rarely are they genuine. Or heart-felt. Being boring manages to avoid the excesses of nostalgia by remembering the pain of the past as well as the pleasure. Times change. People change. Emotions change. Time brings death and loss. And loss is never rose-tinted. True loss becomes only more manageable, because there is nothing else for us to do except manage it. It can never be dressed-up, just addressed. And in life, change brings only two things: enrichment and loss. We gain new friendships and experiences only by shedding previous ones. And sometimes, the old ones were deeper.
I can’t think of any other song by this English pop duo that could have me writing like I am right now. That’s not to say that I believe this to be their peak. I believe this to be their most emotionally prescient song. It’s the reason that this song is considered their best by many. It reflects the experiences of us all in some way or other. Some feel the meaning more acutely than others. But everybody old enough to regret feels its tug. It’s the story of life and lives. Of love and loss. Of hope and expectation. Of youth and experience. Of bitter reality and the passage of time. It’s a monument to the writing talents of Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe. It is also the most gloriously hyped song that this duo will ever construct. Because it is about us. And nobody is more important than us. Not to us. And who else matters?
To my mind, Being boring is a magical adventure. It’s life after all. Its brilliance lies in the manner in which Tennant and Lowe have distilled life into a seven minute pop song. Seven minutes sum up life. And the single reduces it further. Proof that commercial reality taints everything. Its UK chart debut of number 36 can be viewed as the day Tennant and Lowe lost their public. It can also be viewed as the day they gained immortality. The shedding of the teenage brigade for the intellectual high-brow guaranteed a longevity that the fads of the day could never hope to match. The fads of 1990 were New Kids On The Block and MC Hammer. Hammer time was up. That’s not to claim that number 36 was part of the plan. Not at all. But it showed a band that seemed intent on releasing what it regarded as its best work. While the eventual climb to number 20 precipitated a major re-think of commercial values, it also signified a determination to think independently and retain individuality. A stomping U2 cover brought the success back fleetingly, but subsequent releases like Jealousy, DJ Culture, Liberation, Before, and You only tell me you love me when you’re drunk showed that the charts were never again intended to be dominated as 1987. Success would be welcomed, even encouraged in leaner times, but never bought by the sale of values.
Detractors of Being boring are few. Detractors of the myth of Being boring are more easily found. And they are correct to identify a myth. The myth in question hacks at the true beauty of the song. It revolves around the selfish notion that Being boring is the PSB peak because “I’ve lost someone.” Being boring is considered by many to be an elegy. The narrator, Tennant, is not an old man. But he seems to have lost. And lost many. The lines “All the people I was kissing / Some are here and some are missing” suggest that some kind of plague or war has vanquished his loved ones. Tennant’s personal history and his pre-occupation with the consequences of AIDS, as evinced in songs like Domino dancing and Dreaming of the Queen, suggest that it is AIDS that has caused him such loss. To my mind, and I know that I’m being controversial here, some fans of the band have jumped on this as some form of personal collective vindication or expression of special poignancy. This is perfectly understandable in itself. But some then take this to extremes and will not hear of another song gaining more acclaim among the overall fan-base. AIDS has possibly touched more fans of this duo than some other bands, but let’s not obscure a simple fact: loss affects everyone. We all feel it. Maybe some have not lost as much as others. But the revisionist thinking that stops the PSB clock at November 1990 fails to address the simple fact that if this song was so touching to the fan-base, which was a lot larger then, why did it flop so badly? Too many people now think this song is the greatest PSB track for anyone to believe that they all rushed out and bought it in 1990. The myth grew over the years. It became a Stalinist point of fact. It became the song of snobbery. “Oh yes, Being boring was their best.” Yes, it might well be the greatest. But it might well not be either. Love this gorgeous record for itself, not for what others tell you to. It’s far too beautiful to become a cliché, the thing to say. The song to be seen with. Being boring is not a fashion accessory or a statement of superior taste or an expression of self-pity. It is a dignified distillation of life and loss. It’s a celebration of who we are and of what we do. Those things we had always wanted to do. And did.
Drico.
The pale kid that hides in the attic behind his PC...
-
joe stalin
- Posts: 721
- Joined: Thu 18 Dec 2003, 2:35 pm
- TheGardner
- Posts: 4556
- Joined: Wed 08 Jan 2003, 1:22 am
- Has thanked: 4 times
- Been thanked: 15 times
- Contact:
-
joe stalin
- Posts: 721
- Joined: Thu 18 Dec 2003, 2:35 pm
Dot was absolutely ace...then the shambles at aimoo and now we're here. I also remember pre-dot a site by Matts somebody... virtually or something... anyway.. glad to hear he's ok... Elusive was utterly awesome though.. pity he and Redman fell out around the release of New York city boy... that dot in the middle of the screen... what drama... we thought he'd gone awol... and then he turned up.... utter class. JS
BTW... great article mate. You should be a writer..
BTW... great article mate. You should be a writer..
Last edited by joe stalin on Thu 20 Apr 2006, 11:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.
- Ghost within this house
- Posts: 3347
- Joined: Sat 01 Nov 2003, 8:41 pm
- Been thanked: 1 time
- Contact:
A great read. I'm another who likes a more open expanse of meaning for Being Boring: it surpasses ICHH and DOTQ for precisely the reason that it is so applicable.
In 1990 I was about to head up to university (haversack, yes, trepidation, certainly) and so was locked in the middle of the song, and as I've grown up, the Zelda bit, and, of course, the shatteringly wistful third verse have grown and grown on me.
I was reading the Great Gatsby at the time, funnily enough and I also got the 'lost' feel of the song: when he says 'I never dreamt that I would get to be/The creature that I always meant to be' - you wonder, er, if you (or he) actually DID get to be... just like the I in Gatsby, or Charles Ryder in Brideshead..
However, despite these wistful overtones, to me, it is a song of defiance: a cry for staying alive. For escaping the kind of death of the psyche that lurks behind every shopping-centre, every super-efficient factory of the conventional life.
You may be right that BB is the moment they shed their teen idol status and gained immortality... but for me that moment will always be Left to my own devices - perhaps the next song to consider, Drico?
In 1990 I was about to head up to university (haversack, yes, trepidation, certainly) and so was locked in the middle of the song, and as I've grown up, the Zelda bit, and, of course, the shatteringly wistful third verse have grown and grown on me.
I was reading the Great Gatsby at the time, funnily enough and I also got the 'lost' feel of the song: when he says 'I never dreamt that I would get to be/The creature that I always meant to be' - you wonder, er, if you (or he) actually DID get to be... just like the I in Gatsby, or Charles Ryder in Brideshead..
However, despite these wistful overtones, to me, it is a song of defiance: a cry for staying alive. For escaping the kind of death of the psyche that lurks behind every shopping-centre, every super-efficient factory of the conventional life.
You may be right that BB is the moment they shed their teen idol status and gained immortality... but for me that moment will always be Left to my own devices - perhaps the next song to consider, Drico?
Firing verbal shots.......like a Tommy Gun
- Deschanel
- Posts: 2369
- Joined: Thu 30 Oct 2003, 7:23 pm
Very beautifully written, Drico, very well said.
By coincidence, they showed the video of Being Boring just tonight, and i found myself in the climactic part of the lyric grabbing my nearest friend to sort of sing along.
It is indeed a powerful song; and i think it's power comes way more from the lyrics anda pair of headphones than the video..(which i've always actually thought stylish and shallow).
Thanks for the beautiful appreciation; I do appreciate it.

By coincidence, they showed the video of Being Boring just tonight, and i found myself in the climactic part of the lyric grabbing my nearest friend to sort of sing along.
It is indeed a powerful song; and i think it's power comes way more from the lyrics anda pair of headphones than the video..(which i've always actually thought stylish and shallow).
Thanks for the beautiful appreciation; I do appreciate it.
- Vince
- Posts: 4473
- Joined: Wed 27 Oct 2004, 7:41 pm
- Contact:
Nicely put Drico!
BTW i first heard BB when i bought Discography.
It was my LEAST favourite song when i first heard it. i loved the A-side of Discography best. But as i've grown older, i've started to understand the lyrics properly, and BB is out there almost at the top of my most favourite songs list..
BTW i first heard BB when i bought Discography.
It was my LEAST favourite song when i first heard it. i loved the A-side of Discography best. But as i've grown older, i've started to understand the lyrics properly, and BB is out there almost at the top of my most favourite songs list..
H.A.P.P.I.N.E.S.S.S.S.S.S.S.S.S.S.S.S.S.S.
-
Lush
- Posts: 515
- Joined: Sat 08 Nov 2003, 10:12 am
As usual, you have provided us with a very thoughtful and well-written piece, Drico. My own attitude towards Being Boring has long been somewhat ambivalent. On the one hand, it's clearly a beautifully executed song, with its brilliant chord changes, fab production, and Neil's hearfelt delivery of the lyrics.
Why then, do I not share the almost universally agreed perception of BB as one the all-time greatest PSB records?
Well, as Drico rightly points out, it has gained an almost mythical status in the PSB-community, and I generally do not like it when songs become myths. I have always found it puzzling that its superiority is viewed as a matter of course. Personally, I don't even think it's the best song on "Behaviour" (my favorites being "This must be the place I waited years to leave" and "So hard"), and it is - in my opinion - nowhere near the true, epic PSB-masterpiecs ("Left to my own devices", "Can you forgive her?", "It's a sin").
Its lyric is certainly among Neil's more poignant work, but somehow, it feels like the words of an old man whose future is behind him. Nothing wrong with old men, mind you. My problem with it is that the pain and loss described in the song are distant memories, and thus somewhat subdued. For PSB-songs where the pain and loss have not faded an inch, refer to "Your funny uncle" and "It couldn't happen here", both of which in my humble opinion are superior to Being Boring.
Why then, do I not share the almost universally agreed perception of BB as one the all-time greatest PSB records?
Well, as Drico rightly points out, it has gained an almost mythical status in the PSB-community, and I generally do not like it when songs become myths. I have always found it puzzling that its superiority is viewed as a matter of course. Personally, I don't even think it's the best song on "Behaviour" (my favorites being "This must be the place I waited years to leave" and "So hard"), and it is - in my opinion - nowhere near the true, epic PSB-masterpiecs ("Left to my own devices", "Can you forgive her?", "It's a sin").
Its lyric is certainly among Neil's more poignant work, but somehow, it feels like the words of an old man whose future is behind him. Nothing wrong with old men, mind you. My problem with it is that the pain and loss described in the song are distant memories, and thus somewhat subdued. For PSB-songs where the pain and loss have not faded an inch, refer to "Your funny uncle" and "It couldn't happen here", both of which in my humble opinion are superior to Being Boring.
"Unprofessional? Us? Sir. Might I with due respect remind you that Mister Vandemar and myself burned down the City of Troy? We brought the Black Plague to Flanders. We have assassinated a dozen kings, five popes, half a hundred heroes and two accredited gods. Our last commission before this was the torturing to death of an entire monastery in sixteenth century Tuscany. We are utterly professional." - Mr Croup
- Glenny4
- Posts: 9798
- Joined: Tue 28 Oct 2003, 6:12 pm
- Contact:
- Janet Street-Porter
- Posts: 2530
- Joined: Wed 14 Jan 2004, 12:32 am
- BlueSwan
- Posts: 2635
- Joined: Wed 29 Oct 2003, 6:42 pm
An interesting read, but however much I want to adore this song, I have always found it musically a bit bland - at least when compared to the IMO *real* PSB masterpieces. The lyrics might be great or they might not - lyrics have never really made the song for me.
That is not to say that I don't think it's a great song. I do. Very much so, even. I just don't have it in my PSB top 30.
That is not to say that I don't think it's a great song. I do. Very much so, even. I just don't have it in my PSB top 30.
http://www.soundcloud.com/blueswan (Blue Swan tracks, my solo tracks and remixes)
http://soundcloud.com/groups/inspired-by-pet-shop-boys (A collection of various artists PSB covers, PSB remixes and original songs inspired by PSB - anyone interested can contribute tracks)
http://soundcloud.com/groups/inspired-by-pet-shop-boys (A collection of various artists PSB covers, PSB remixes and original songs inspired by PSB - anyone interested can contribute tracks)
Hi Joe. Good to hear from you. Us old stagers float in and out of the forum loop like a cool breeze on a summer's night. Actually, we're not that elegant.joe stalin wrote:hey Drico... haven't seen you for absolutely years... since Dotmusic even... how's it going ? Will this mark the return of the old stagers like Mike 'Elusive' F.... it would be great to hear that he's ok ? Cheers JS
Drico.
The pale kid that hides in the attic behind his PC...
Elegantly spoken.Ghost within this house wrote: However, despite these wistful overtones, to me, it is a song of defiance: a cry for staying alive. For escaping the kind of death of the psyche that lurks behind every shopping-centre, every super-efficient factory of the conventional life.
Thanks, Deschanel. To be fair, looking back now, I think I lost the plot a bit in that last paragraph of mine, but I think I got my point across regardless.Deschanel wrote:Very beautifully written, Drico, very well said.
By coincidence, they showed the video of Being Boring just tonight, and i found myself in the climactic part of the lyric grabbing my nearest friend to sort of sing along.
It is indeed a powerful song; and i think it's power comes way more from the lyrics anda pair of headphones than the video..(which i've always actually thought stylish and shallow).
Thanks for the beautiful appreciation; I do appreciate it.
Drico.
The pale kid that hides in the attic behind his PC...
A similar myth peddles the nonsense that Release is an inferior album. People believe what they want to believe, but then we've never been short of bad taste and myopic opinion masquerading as fact in this community.Lush wrote:Well, as Drico rightly points out, it has gained an almost mythical status in the PSB-community, and I generally do not like it when songs become myths. I have always found it puzzling that its superiority is viewed as a matter of course.
Drico.
The pale kid that hides in the attic behind his PC...