When the drip is no drip
Most of us could only dream of pulling off this level of aura
Christopher Cross’ SAILING is one of the smoothest ballads in all of music. Aside from annihilating the 1980 Grammys earning Record of the Year, Song of the Year, Arrangement of the Year, and helped earn Cross Best New Artist, it’s a serene masterpiece that I would place in the top 2 or 3 songs that define the Yacht Rock genre.
The song is pure melancholy. Cross’ voice soars over beautiful, dreamy instrumentation and the resulting track is hypnotic, hopeful:
Well, it's not far down to paradise
At least it's not for me
And if the wind is right you can sail away
And find tranquility
Oh, the canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see, believe me
But then he hits us with a couple oddly dark lines. They show up out of nowhere, sung in the exact same heavenly style as the rest of the song.
Well, it's not far back to sanity
At least it's not for me
Whoa, where the hell did that come from? Maybe it’s an inside joke. Maybe he’s speaking as a character who has lost his mind. Maybe it’s a cry for help.
Whatever the case, the last thing I’d picture him wearing while singing this ethereal anthem is a baby blue Earl Campbell Houston Oilers jersey. Here he is on The Midnight Special, which was a musical variety series that aired on NBC from 1973 to 1981. It was a big deal.
From what I can tell, this was not his usual outfit, but it’s by far my favorite. Here’s why…
In 1980, artists like Elton John, Michael Jackson, The Commodores, and Blondie were the ones topping the charts. Those people were fashion icons who paved the way for how artists approach their wardrobe to this day. Christopher Cross didn’t quite reach their level of fame and impact, but he was definitely in the mix.
In a lot of ways, Cross’ football jersey says a lot more than “go Oilers”. It tells me that he doesn’t give a shit about anything other than sonically transporting you to a magical world aboard his enchanted sailboat. It tells me that he was caught off guard by fame. He made a song that catapulted him into the spotlight and he probably had 12 hours to prep for that TV appearance.
I imagine him showing up at a festival, walking on stage looking like a drum tech, and just eviscerating the audience with the chillest vibes imaginable. To me, that’s just as big of a flex as someone rocking a show in a $500k ensemble. The music is the drip.
Speaking of festivals, another one of my favorite examples of no-drip as drip is Queen at Live Aid.
In my mind, Queen’s sound transcends rock music. It’s operatic. Every song is a saga. And their album artwork is cinematic.
Their performance at 1985’s Live Aid has gone down in history as one of the (if not THE) greatest live gig in music history. Freddie Mercury had 72,000 fans eating out the palm of his hand. Holly Thomas said it best in her 2018 article:
Mercury was a brilliant sight. He had stripped his look to the bare essentials — white tight jeans, trademark moustache, a white tank top showing off his chest and arms, a studded band hugging his right bicep. The whole group, absent their flamboyant 1970s costumes and set paraphernalia, proved they didn’t need them. There was no distraction from the performance.
They didn’t need anything but each other and their instruments. There’s an urgency to their performance. Visually, they’re not exactly on the same page - was there tension between the members? They were rock gods who looked like co-workers at Guitar Center. Like, WTF is John Deacon even wearing?
In terms of drip, I’m probably referring mostly to John Deacon because Brian May and Roger Taylor looked like they synced up with their button up shirts, and Freddie Mercury had a bit of flare with his studded arm band. But Deacon, like Christopher Cross before him, showed up in a shirt that someone would wear to a barbecue.
But again, that’s the flex. Deacon threw on that outfit and proceeded to play one of the most iconic basslines in the history of mankind (on a song that he also wrote).
On that stage at Live Aid, he made you forget that he looked like he worked at a tiki bar. He elevated his outfit to deity status in an immortal performance. There are multiple Reddit threads of people trying (in vain) to find that exact shirt. To be honest, I kinda want one now that I’ve thought so much about it.
I love that Queen is most remembered for this gig. It serves as a constant reminder that although production value and wardrobe absolutely matter, nothing is more important than skill and mastery of your craft. Would it have been a better show if they wore some of their more flashy outfits? We’ll never know.
The way they presented themselves at Live Aid felt far more intimate. They were inviting the audience to sing with them, as friends. It was as if to say “You’ve seen us in makeup and capes. This is who we really are. We look like you. We dress like you. But we’re still icons.”