Compare this—or nearly any other “love song” by Magazine—with the lyrics of their song “My Tulpa,” in which the tables are turned on Howard Devoto. The tone of ambiguous sadomasochism is there, as usual: oh yes. But the song’s narrator debases himself, in hopes of gaining an iota of attention from the target of his infatuation. Who (oh yeah) happens to be male, in that particular instance.
In Devoto’s songs about women, though? He expresses condescension, a desire to escape, and an assumption she’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
To be fair, he IS far more intelligent than your average bloke.
Also, it’s difficult to examine this gender dynamic more closely. I’m unaware of any tracks he’s written—other than “My Tulpa”—in which male-to-male attraction is explicitly present.
Compare this—or nearly any other “love song” by Magazine—with the lyrics of their song “My Tulpa,” in which the tables are turned on Howard Devoto. The tone of ambiguous sadomasochism is there, as usual: oh yes. But the song’s narrator debases himself, in hopes of gaining an iota of attention from the target of his infatuation. Who (oh yeah) happens to be male, in that particular instance.
In Devoto’s songs about women, though? He expresses condescension, a desire to escape, and an assumption she’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
To be fair, he IS far more intelligent than your average bloke.
Also, it’s difficult to examine this gender dynamic more closely. I’m unaware of any tracks he’s written—other than “My Tulpa”—in which male-to-male attraction is explicitly present.