Like many people of my generation, I became aware of Laurie Anderson in 1981, when her song "O Superman" was an improbable radio hit. The eight-minute number featured a simple and hypnotic, breathy backing track, over which Anderson half spoke and half sang through a vocorder. The quirky lyrics repeatedly referenced Superman, "mom and dad" and the ominous approach of "American planes, made in America."
At once childlike and haunting, "O Superman" followed on the faux-naif stylings of fellow New Yorkers The Talking Heads, but was more artsy; while Anderson's spiked hair and androgynous-cyborg look became the new standard of cool for the period. Meanwhile, her other projects -- in particular her videos and collaborations with William S. Burroughs -- helped to position her as a counterculture idol.
But that was then and this is now, and like many people of my generation, I'd sort of lost track of Anderson. So it is a delight to discover that she has remained active and avant-garde over the last quarter century, and a new retrospective, "The Record of the Time -- Sound in the Work of Laurie Anderson," now at the ICC Gallery in Shinjuku looks like the show of the summer.