A weekend of intense Love My Way viewing was perhaps not the wisest of moves. Now all roads seem to lead towards loss and painful self-evaluation. Although on the up-side, this is to apparently occur in beautiful Sydney cliff-top real estate, at great rental rates, in the perpetual summer that is Australian TV with designs on the export market.
It was strange, Love My Way. It made me *feel* things. So much so that, at key moments, I had to embark on little mini-projects, such as reading The Guardian auto section, until these uncomfortable sensations subsided. While it is obviously very uncomfortable to feel feelings (shudder… push…. down), it is even more uncomfortable to write about them, so, for this reason, I thought it appropriate to re-examine one of the most meaningless, yet pleasing, pieces of recent pop.
Dannii Minogue, Love Fight.
Love Fight is notable for two things. Firstly, its welcome revival of naughty-patient, dirty-doctor themes, and secondly, its deft excavation of the fraught intersection between eroticism and violent physicality. Never quite answering the question of what a “Love Fight” actually is, Dannii instead trawls through a serious of erotic vignettes: “teacher teacher, I’m the student now”; “heavy petting always makes me feel/ like I’m Lois with the Man of Steel”; “Doctor, doctor…” etc. This is very much in the Minogue tradition of Carry-On sexuality (“nod, nod, wink, wink”). But it’s the epic chorus that lifts this flimsy concept higher. One can almost feel the moment at which Dannii would ascend to the tabletop at QBH for some bump’n’grind, as the chorus peaks and everything veers upwards. Very much of the “throw it all in”, “more is more” production philosophy that also seems to have steered Dannii’s facial feng shui. And what wonderful results all round. I miss the summer of Love Fight…