The Breathtaking Beauty of Rod Stewart’s ‘The Killing of Georgie Parts I & II

I recently chanced upon this clip of Rod Stew­art singing (or lip-synching) ‘The Killing of Georgie Parts I & II’ on a late-night BBC4 re-run of a Top of the Pops from 1976. I was com­pletely trans­fixed. Not by nos­tal­gia though, for a change. Bizarrely, scan­dalously I don’t recall see­ing or even hear­ing this well-known clas­sic before.

I have a bit of a blind spot about Rod Stew­art. As a kid I hated bal­lads. They were bor-ing. Like the kissy-wissy bits in films. And by the time I got into pop music in a big way Stew­art was the Bawl­ing Bal­ladeer. I did go to see the Stew­art musi­cal Tonight’s the Night with a friend when it opened in 2003. Alas, it was writ­ten by Ben Elton and so I had to leave at the first interval.

But I found myself utterly mes­merised by Rod’s per­for­mance here. It’s undoubt­edly one of the best to-camera per­for­mances I’ve ever seen by any artist. Lit­er­ally breath­tak­ing. And although the song per­haps owes a debt to ‘Walk on the Wild Side’, pro­duced by David Bowie four years ear­lier in 1972 (the gay/outsider jour­ney to New York on a Grey­hound bus, the doop-doop back­ing…), I think David would give his non-dilated eye to have done this.

The song tells the story – remem­ber when songs did that? – of a gay friend of Stewart’s who, rejected by his fam­ily after explain­ing that ‘he needed love like all the rest’, moved to New York where he ‘soon became the toast of the Great White Way’ – but was cut down in his prime dur­ing a ran­dom mugging.

It’s not so much the subject-matter (a true story, appar­ently) that got me. It’s the aston­ish­ing per­for­mance itself, which in its fear­less extrav­a­gance and beauty seems the per­fect trib­ute to his fallen friend. It’s as if Stew­art, the work­ing class foot­balling lad and lady-killer, is show­ing you with his drag queen ges­tures and shin­ing androg­yny what Georgie the show queen gave him, what he lib­er­ated in him.

It’s there in the lyrics, of course:

He said “Never wait or hes­i­tate
Get in kid, before it’s too late
You may never get another chance
’Cos youth a mask but it don’t last
live it long and live it fast”

But it’s much more ‘there’ in Rod’s ‘gay aban­don’ in front of the cam­era and Mar­lene Diet­rich eyes.

I’ve watched the clip sev­eral times now and the final line to ‘Part I’ – ‘Georgie was a friend of mine’ – deliv­ered with arms stretched out open-palmed towards the audi­ence, towards the world, and that unswerv­ing, heavy-lidded gaze gets me every time.

The ‘Part II’ coda is a frank, almost embar­rass­ing expres­sion of love and loss, mourn­ing and melan­cho­lia. Rod weeps for his lost friend:

Oh Georgie stay, don’t go away
Georgie please stay you take our breath away

But by tak­ing our breath away too, at the height of his youth, his beauty and his tal­ent, Rod ensures Georgie – and the glam­orous gay­ness of the pre Aids 1970s – also lives for­ever and never goes away.

No mat­ter what Rod him­self was to turn into, as the mask of youth slipped.

13 Comments

  • I bet Anti­nous’ nose looked even more like Rod’s IRL. The sculp­tors were being flattering.

    I remem­ber when I went to a gay club, as a teenager in the 90s. My girl­friend took me there. The les­bians were in the dark base­ment, and that was as dire as it sounds. But I found myself unable to join the gay boys upstairs. The dance music and all the bod­ies scared the life out of me. I didn’t feel fab­u­lous enough, although I’d dress up in sparkly shirts in homage to Edie Sedg­wick, which caused my girl­friend to tell me I look like a drag queen (it wasn’t a com­pli­ment). She was a tiny lit­tle thing who stud­ied bal­let, who went on to become a body­builder, as I learned through Facebook.

  • Yes, the nose is won­der­ful. It’s good to see some­one else who appre­ci­ates a real nose.

    But that world of pre-AIDS glam­our really did exist for a while, and not just at Stu­dio 54. As a woman, I had only lim­ited access, but I remem­ber the first enor­mous dance loft, a short-lived club called Flamingo, some­where on Hous­ton Street (pro­nounced House-ton), nowa­days a gen­tri­fied, unaf­ford­able down­town neigh­bor­hood, but back in 1977 or 78 a prop­erly dark and seedy area.

    My gay boyfriend was kind enough to take me a cou­ple of times. In those days women didn’t just walk into gay clubs on our own. It was my first expo­sure to a dance floor of lit­er­ally hun­dreds of shirt­less gay men, wear­ing jeans or fatigue pants and com­bat boots. It took my breath away then. I’m still not quite recov­ered from the excite­ment of it all.

    Per­haps not the same kind of glam­our as Rod Stewart’s per­for­mance, but very beau­ti­ful, and in ret­ro­spect very moving.

  • I’ve just realised who he reminds me of with his nose, his eyes and his down­cast looks, even more than Mar­lene. Anti­nous. But then, every beau­ti­ful boy does that:

    http://wp.me/p5Hrd-cs

  • I’ve always found Bowie a bit icy. Fas­ci­nat­ing, but cold and invul­ner­a­ble and ulti­mately unlove­able. Rod here how­ever is lay­ing it all on the line. He’s not afraid to be sen­ti­men­tal. He’s also much more of a nat­ural beauty.

    But you’re right: the make-up should have won an Oscar.

  • It’s funny you should write about this because when I watched it the other week on TOTP I had exactly the same reac­tion. I’d never seen the clip before and was quite mes­merised by its sheer inten­sity and it kind of made me re-assess Rod a lit­tle.
    Watch­ing it I couldn’t help but think ‘and there was out­rage at the Ronson/Bowie arm thing?!’ I know this is a few years later but Rod is just as sub­ver­sive here. The make-up is gor­geous too!

  • Elise: It is so much all about the eyes — which hold you in a way I can’t recall any­one else’s eyes doing in a music promo not actu­ally per­formed by Marlene.

    But also the nose. When he does the stagey-but-still-somehow-tasteful down­cast look in pro­file he looks pos­i­tively Flo­ren­tine. Cellini or Michelan­gelo could have sculpted it.

  • Glenn: Another blind spot. Of course I’m very famil­iar with ‘Mag­gie May’, but I have no idea what the song is about. I’ve heard it a thou­sand times but prob­a­bly never lis­tened to it. I shall cor­rect that now.

  • Yes, my asser­tion at the begin­ning of the piece that I wasn’t trans­fixed by nos­tal­gia (for a change) because I couldn’t remem­ber see­ing this clip before was entirely false.

    As Ann says, I was engulfed by a nos­tal­gia for the van­ished, pre-Fall era that it rep­re­sents. Which pos­si­bly only existed in Stu­dio 54 a cou­ple of nights a week anyway.

    Nev­er­the­less, look­ing at some­thing like this I can’t quite shake the feel­ing that in many ways met­ro­sex­u­al­ity is just a poor, stunted shadow of what hap­pened back then.

  • In a way the most roman­tic aspect is Mark’s (and our) nos­tal­gia for the pre-AIDS 1970s, so beau­ti­fully rep­re­sented in this performance.

    It seemed then as if everybody–black and white, gay and straight–was going to get along, just the way disco music had brought us together. We were all into “gender-bending” and glam­our, bisex­u­al­ity and androgyny.

    And then came the ran­dom mug­gings: AIDS, Ronald Rea­gan, Mag­gie Thatcher, the begin­ning of today’s world of inequal­ity and con­stant warfare.

  • Don’t for­get his star turn as a kept school boy in “Mag­gie”! His early stuff seemed to be all about break­ing sex­ual conventions

  • You’re right, that’s one gor­geous androg­y­nous per­for­mance, and I’m no Stew­art fan either. Yes, it’s all in those down­cast, dreamy, nar­cis­sis­tic down­cast eyes and beau­ti­ful big eyelids.

  • I don’t think Rod’s career ever quite recov­ered from that album — or Kenny.

  • Graham Rae wrote:

    Rod Stew­art, the Scot­tish Eng­lish­man. This has stuck in the mem­ory for around 30 years now for obvi­ous rea­sons… :)

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