Do Come Into My Head That I Can’t Get You Out Of With Me

Three Kylie Minogue’s walk into a bar called The Memory Place.
Wait, let me begin again….

There is a place called The Memory Place which I have seen described as a place where photos and writings overflow onto the floor without particular order, where the records reveal nothing about what they document and everything about themselves, and where the Memory Place itself has no memory. “See, it just doesn’t care.”

One Kylie here is crystal clear in the way that only our falsest memories can be, the ones that get falser with every self-telling and careful crafting. There’s the sun on light grey concrete roads, all the same and rolling by, car heading downhill or uphill or the weightlessness of the in-between, the views from the backseat and mother is driving, her short hair, the sound the seat makes under adjustments drowned out by singing along to  a magical rendition of “Do The Locomotion” coming from the car stereo, clear in that way that only perfect bubbly pop can be. This Kylie is curated, but certain.

One Kylie here is not even a line, hardly a point, the sort of memory that’s like a light that flashes on then off and makes you wonder if you imagined it. There’s a series of late nights with writing for class or later nights with driving around on increasingly alien hometown roads, desk lamps and street lamps, the feeling of tired eyes that stay open out of stubbornness, an almost mournful Wayne Coyne covers “Can’t Get You Out of My Head” in such a way that, defying its pop roots, there’s no point in singing along, and there’s just listening and watching time pass. This Kylie is full of movement with hardly moving, like a bridge.

One Kylie here is subtly grainy to the eye, the sort of memory full of dull and rich colors, balanced like film and floating to the front more on its emotions than on its recalled perceptions. There’s the feeling of a high both chemical and emotional, fooling around and then heading home, then subways and all their attendant moments of city and humanity, then olfactory emotion at its finest with smells of people and late night pizza and the welcome musty beginning of Fall, music in stereo over it all of Fischerspooner’s “Come Into My World” remix with its demanding pulsing of electronics and the insistent assured pressing of layered vocals and exclamations and all the energy it brings on its back. This Kylie is a heart in one’s throat while happily trying to keep up with everything that happens.

So, three Kylie’s walk into a bar called The Memory Place. One is nostalgic and broken hearted for the way things were, one is open and full of love for how the world falls moment into moment, and one simply facilitates like a transistor. They buy rounds for the house. A conversation ensues like a river:
“Let’s get to it.”
“Got to be certain.”
“I’m over dreaming. about Where has the love gone.”
“Enjoy yourself.”
“I should be so lucky. Drunk. Under the influence of love.”
“Burning up?”
“Can’t beat the feeling.”
“Breathe.”
“I don’t need anyone. Wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Look my way. Confide in me.”
“Surrender?”
“It’s no secret. No more rain.”
“and Turn it into love. Better the devil you know.”
“What do i have to do?”
“Please stay. Your disco needs you.”
“On a night like this? Shocked.”
“Never too late. The world still turns.”
“I feel for you.”
“Give me just a little more time”
“No world without you”
“I guess I like it like that. Wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Still standing.”
“2 hearts.”
“Light years.”
“Cosmic.”
“Count the days.”

————————————————-
digital art of Kylie Minogue by Andre Brocatus.