I thought a fitting memorial to the late Robert Palmer would be to perform a Google image search on his name, primarily because that's the only memorial that fit so well into my Friday afternoon plans. Those of course being to surf the internet absolutely without aim in hopes of speeding the crawling minutes until finally I'd be released from the torture chamber that is my place of work. "TGIF," as they say with the wit of a week-old corpse, and to they I say, "And how."

So littered among the webcam images of the various computer science teachers named Robert Palmer, the webcam images of the various geology doctoral students named Robert Palmer, and webcam images of the various NWS meteorologists named Robert Palmer were a few photos related to the Robert Palmer that concerned me -- the simply irresistible singer Robert Palmer.

He was wearing a suit in most of these images, as was his way, and more than a few of them also featured leggy brunettes clad in variations on his own outfit. The most interesting image I found, however, was the cover to his 1976 album Pressure Drop.



You see, I'm interested in this image not only because it prominently features a woman's naked behind, though that does interest me at least passingly. What interests me most is the scenario or emotion they're attempting to portray. "They" of course meaning whomever is responsible for the cover -- the record company, the photographer, or old deady, RP himself.

What struck me first about the image is the way the woman appears to be hugging herself and staring blankly through the sliding glass door. She seems sad -- disinterested in her nudity, rather than perversely flaunting it for the world outside. I briefly considered scenarios of prostitution and rape. Somehow, though, those theories weren't working for me. Next, I thought that the image might be a suggestion of Palmer's homosexuality. Maybe the Pressue Drop referred to in the title is the drop in personal and emotional pressure a coming-out might afford him. He's clearly disinterested in the nude woman behind him, and the way that she's clutching herself suggests shame -- perhaps she feels badly about getting to brink of sex with a man who ultimately rejected her in favor of, say, a young Thai boy. But what is that device in his hand? A corded remote control?

No.

The answer to this riddle, ladies and gentlemen, is impotence. This is a touching portrayal of a man ashamed by his inability to get or sustain an erection. He stares down at his "white corded device," resigned to its flaccidity. The woman, of course, feels badly for both him and for herself. Perhaps on some level she feels as though it's her own fault -- that she's not attractive enough to arouse a man like Palmer. But at the same time she stares out the door, yearning for satisfaction, and advertising for something longer, harder, and better.

Well I say to you, Robert Palmer, rest in peace. Where you're going, you'll always have an erection.

Analogcabin @ 2:05 PM
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