Another reason this feature is infinite is that people keep writing and releasing new radio songs all the time. As Martin pointed out in the comments of the first post, it's hard to believe anyone will ever write as many songs celebrating the magic and romance of Spotify (although Karen O does mention it in her song Capsize).
I took a flyer on the new Strand of Oaks album recently knowing nothing about them. The band is mostly the brainchild of Timothy Showalter and he's supported Jason Isbell, Iron and Wine, and Ryan Adams, though he's a bit rockier than any of those guys. I really like this track, the first single from the album, and it does seem Showalter misses the glory days of radio as much as I do...
Remember how it felt to listen Fumbling to press record Strangest voice I've heard before...
This is a song about hearing that amazing new song that changes your life forever, then glueing yourself to the radio to catch its next play. Except maybe that's something we've lost forever...
I wanna get it back I wanna get it back I'll never get it back I know So play it, play it loud on the radio I'm feeling sorry for myself I'm feeling pretty old At least I had that song At least I had that song On the radio
Listen, George has been stood outside your house since 5 a.m. and by the time 6 rolls around, he's royally pissed off that you're still not home. Great stalker anthem.
I remember the radio station I worked at (along with many others) insisted on playing the dancey remix of this when it was out. The slow, sultry original is far superior.
6.30 is just way too early To get up this cold December morning Though as long as she insists on being the theme to my every single dream That coffee it is a calling
That's a pretty great opening verse, and this song only gets better...
In which Stuart Murdoch gets woken up at 6 by roadworks outside his window. Oh well, he's up now, might as well start mooning over an old girlfriend...
See also Olympic Village, 6am, an instrumental B&S recorded to accompany the Rio games. Not entirely sure why.
Six a.m. you left me for the last time On my doorstep blinking in the sunshine Blamed and framed I'm frozen in the picture Hanging in the space you left inside me Climbed upstairs into the final scene
Waiting for the credits to appear For all the years that I've been starring Starring in a film with you and leading Leading with a star I knew but I'm waking up In a lone beam of light where the dust is dancing As the music fades
Tom Waits for no man, not even at 6 a.m. (No, I will never grow tired of that pun.)
And it's six in the morning, gave me no warning; I had to be on my way.
Well there's trucks all a-passing me, and the lights are all flashing,
I'm on my way home from your place.
I know I won't make many friends by saying this, but I love the Eagles version almost as much as I do Tom's.
Prince. Susannah Hoffs. If you don't love this, check your pulse.
Six o'clock already I was just in the middle of a dream I was kissin' Valentino By a crystal blue Italian stream But I can't be late 'Cause then I guess I just won't get paid These are the days When you wish your bed was already made
Waking up at six a.m. on a cool warm morning Opening the windows and breathing in petrol An amateur band rehearsing in a nearby yard Watching the telly and thinking about your holidays
The Jam were really rather good, weren't they?
1. The Monkees - Daydream Believer
"7A" "What number is this, Chip?" "7-A!!!" "OK!, know what I mean, like, don’t get excited man. It’s cause I’m short, I know."
Davy Jones dreams of the 6 o'clock alarm never ringing... but it does, and when he finally rises, his shaving razor's cold... and it stings.
It seems apt that on the day I'm guest-posting over at JC's place, I end up doing a Bonus Post... after all, he's one of the only bloggers I know who sometimes manages two posts in the same day. (Jez is the other one, but he doesn't post every day like JC.)
Anyway, you've probably all seen this meme over on facebook. It's been doing the rounds. I had to have a go, of course, and I thought I'd post my response here in case you wanted to have a guess.
Ten bands/artists I've seen live. One of them is a lie.
By
the way, I haven't chosen any of the OBVIOUS acts you all KNOW I've seen
live. If this list was made up of Springsteen, Billy Bragg, Elvis
Costello, Lloyd Cole, Morrissey et al, it would be far too easy.
1. Depeche Mode 2. Suzanne Vega 3. Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers 4. Guns n Roses 5. Alison Krauss & Union Station 6. Bon Jovi 7. Oasis 8. Hayseed Dixie 9. James Brown 10. Nearly Dan (Steely Dan tribute act)
One final clue: 8 of the true ones were really, really good. The ninth really, really wasn't.
Oh, and if you happen to have travelled in the opposite direction thanks to JC, then thank you. Welcome. Pull up a chair, grab your headphones. Stick around if you've got the time. Say hello. You might find something of interest in the last few posts. Honest. I haven't written about Billy Joel in weeks...
Or, to be more honest, I love the ideal. The idea of what radio can be...though it rarely is.
I worked in radio for 23 years of my life, but only for the first 4 or 5 was that radio station allowed to be even a fraction of what it could be. I want to write something about that. About my years in radio: the good times and the bad. And about the ideal: what I believe radio could and should be.
I also love songs about radio. A few years back, on the old blog, I had the idea of doing a Top Ten... but I couldn't whittle them down. In the end, I settled on a Top 40, but there were still many great ones I missed out... and many more I've discovered since.
And so, I decided to start a new ongoing feature. This won't be a Top Ten. That funny squiggle, in the title line, just in case you don't know, it's an infinity symbol. Because I reckon I can write about radio songs on and off here forever... and never write about them all. I'll die before I run out... or get bored of blogging, at least. There's always that possibility.
To start, here's three of my favourites. All of them tackle the idea of what radio could and should be... and feature an old DJ who's forced to face the fact, as I was many years ago, that it rarely is. They're also three songs which inspired a short story I wrote some time ago, so I thought I'd include that as well, to mark the beginning of my new infinite feature. I will number these songs as I go along, then we'll all see how long it takes to count to infinity. Oh, and there's a bonus track at the end of the post which seemed fitting.
1. Harry Chapin - W.O.L.D.
2. Mark Germino & The Sluggers - Rex Bob Lowenstein
3. Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers - The Last DJ
Dead Air
The printout from the weather
centre comes through at 3.43am, and finally someone has given it a
name. Cumulus Letalis. Jesse reads the report like he’s supposed to, like he
has every night for twenty-eight years, then he taps the screen that fires off
Celine Dion on the playout system and stares out at the stars. Celine Dion! Has
it really come to this?
At least they weren’t responding
like every other station in town. In fact, the WXYW reaction was as far from
that as you could get. Station Manager Steve Carlton had made that quite clear
at the Crisis Management Meeting yesterday afternoon.
“If these clouds really spread
to Boston, like the weather centre predicts, you can guarantee our competitors
will be in full-on panic mode. They’ll have reporters up on the rooftops,
man-in-the-street vox-pops, eye-in-the-sky choppers tracking the evacuation
effort, everybody from the feds to NASA throwing in their two cents worth…
there won’t be a station in town sticking to playlist with a live presenter.
There will of course be the ones who go to automation and get the hell out of
Dodge…”
“Like we all should be doing,”
said Gerry Gerrity, WX’s shit-hot breakfast jock (and A-1 pain in everybody’s
ass). He still had his blue-tooth clipped to the side of his temple (he
regularly took calls from his agent in the middle of station meetings, and never
lowered his voice); Jesse thought he looked like a stapled schlong.
“Well, obviously I can’t force
anybody to stay and work,” said Carlton, “but—“
“I’ll do it,” said Jesse. It was
the first he’d spoken in a station meeting all year. Maybe that explained the
looks he got from around the table. But he’d long since given up caring what
any of them thought. You can’t expect to maintain any semblance of self-respect
when you’re playing James Blunt for a living.
“If you hate the job so much,”
Audrey used to say, “quit!”
“I don’t hate the job,” he told
her. “I hate what they’ve turned the job into. A business – this was never
supposed to be a business!”
“No? What’s it supposed to be
then? A calling?”
Audrey never understood.
“What else am I going to do?”
he’d ask her. “What else am I good for after all these years but playing
records and talking?” They didn’t even call them records anymore. It was all
“tracks” nowadays.
“Tracks is what train runs on,”
Jesse used to tell them, but he stopped when they started looking at him like he
was their grandpa. These kids they were getting in the station nowadays, they
wouldn’t even know a record if they saw it.
At a little after 4.30, Jesse
watches the clouds rolling in from the South. From the 57th floor of
the WXYW Tower of Power, he can see the whole of the city and beyond. Across
the bay as far as World’s End and Quincy. And while they still had clear skies
overhead, he knew it’d only be a matter of time. From Florida to Virginia, past
Delaware and Philly - up to New York and Jersey. Over the last few days, those
lousy clouds had squirmed up the whole of the Eastern seaboard. And once they
settled, that was it. Everything went dark. No communications, nobody in or out
of any of the cities, no idea what was going on inside. They sent in the army,
the Hazmat teams, FEMA… they lost contact with all of them within a few
hours. The President declared a state of emergency, but it quickly became
apparent the only solution was a complete evacuation, at least until they
figured out exactly what they were dealing with. If they ever did. But even
with warning, they couldn’t hope to get everybody out of Boston in time, and
the highways had been jammed as far as Vermont for 72 hours now.
Of course, there were plenty of
theories. Alien invasion. Terrorist attack. The wrath of God. (Though surely
God would have taken the West Coast first?) But all the satellites showed was
that strange, low-lying cloud. Cumulus Letalis. You didn’t have to be a classical scholar to decipher the Latin.
“At the end of the day, there
are going to be thousands – if not tens of thousands - of listeners who either
can’t get out of the city in time, or just plain don’t want to leave their
homes,” Steve Carlton had told him, in private once the others had gone. “And
while everybody else will be fighting it out to provide up-to-the-second
disaster reportage… there will be a large proportion of the audience share who
simply don’t want to know – who just want to bury their heads in the sand and
hope that this all… blows over. Which, after all, it just might just do. That,
Jesse, is where WXYW comes in – offering the perfect mix of adult contemporary
classics to soothe the fearful spirit... and a steady, reassuring voice to
becalm the troubled mind.”
Jesse wouldn’t miss Steve
Carlton and all his inconceivable bullshit. His audience research that
suggested listeners wanted a friendly, calm, natural, quietly humorous
presentation style on the one hand, while the sponsors wanted an upbeat,
non-ironic, in-your-face sales patter from their jock-read promo scripts on the
other. His song sampling results that involved playing 30 second hooks down the
phone to stay-at-home shut-ins, then building an entire playlist around their
ability to Name That Tune in 29… rather than letting the experts – people like
Jesse – put their heart and soul into selecting the kind of imaginative,
entertaining and provocative music choices that had been delivering
consistently strong ratings for a good ten, fifteen years before some idiot
with a computer and an attitude decided they knew best. Some idiot who didn’t
even know the difference between ELO and ELP. Didn’t even care. And people wondered
why Jesse had volunteered to stay behind. There was nothing in this job for him
anymore… but since Audrey moved out, the job was all he had.
At half past five, Jesse reads
out the day’s Mad Mad Mondegreen email. Listener-suggested songs with amusingly
misheard lyrics. “We’ve got to insult microwave ovens,” says Brody in
Cambridge, from the song, ‘Money For Nothing’, by the immortal Dire Straits. As
Jesse fires off the track, the first fingers of dawn unclench over Logan
and Fort Dawes, and though the smother of cloud already hugs the streets
beneath him, from atop the second tallest building in Boston, Jesse can still
see the sunrise, and the stars winking out in the west. It occurs to him now
that while below, the unknown is at last being discovered, as long as he
remains up here in the studio… the lousy clouds might never even reach him.
He tries the switchboard for an
outside line. He has some crazy idea about calling Audrey, doing his best to
make some kind of peace. But the phones are down, and his cell has lost its
signal. He eats a Twinkie from the vending machine and burns the roof of his
mouth with vile black coffee.
At 6.13, the lights go out in
the studio and the desk goes dead. A few seconds later, the emergency generator
kicks in and Jesse makes a quick apology for the momentary loss of service,
before restarting Dido. He turns his face into the sun that’s rising again -
over the advancing cloud line this time - and closes his eyes ‘til the lids go
transparent. He sneezes when he opens them again, and wipes snotty fingers on
the side of his chair. What a pity Gerry Gerrity won’t be following him this
morning.
By 7am, Cumulus Letalis has
taken all the land Jesse could see, but still the Tower of Power remains above,
so far unaffected. He wonders what would happen if he got in the elevator and
punched ‘G’. He wonders how many people got out of the city in time, and how
many remain below, down in the mystery. He wonders about Steve Carlton and Dana
Oxbury, and that cross-eyed guy Mandy from Sponsorship & Promotions. He
wonders about Audrey. He wonders about Audrey a lot more than he might have
expected to. But as he watches a jet scar the immaculate blue above, he knows
it’s far too late for regret. Particularly when the cloud is rising. He could
open the studio window and step out across it now… though soon, those same
studio windows will be sinking underneath, and only the transmitters will be
visible from above.
“One final matter,” Steve
Carlton had told him, suddenly unable to meet Jesse’s eyes, like even he knew
the bullshit only went so far. “When… I mean, if something should happen, and
you’re no longer able to keep broadcasting… I would of course expect you to
switch to automation before… well, at the first sign of… aherm…”
But Jesse has his own plan for
when that happens, and as the sunlight blinks through the advancing brume, he
knows the time has come to put said plans into action.
“And now,” he says, killing
David Gray mid-song and really smiling into that mic for the first time in years,
“in a change to our regularly scheduled programming… here’s some tunes you won’t
hear every day.” He switches off the playout computer and slips in a CD (if the
studio still had turntables, he’d have brought vinyl), introducing a few
records from his own… personal collection.
“This first one goes out to
Audrey, wherever she might be – you always did love The Ramones, honey…”
Dominick "Randy" Safuto and his gang had a one hit wonder with their doo wop classic 'Denise' in 1963. 15 years later the song would be re-recorded as 'Denis', the song that gave Blondie their first big international hit. This much I know for sure. There are, however, a number of things I don't know about this record...
Listen to the intro of Denise. Is that Peggy Sue or what? Maybe four years after Buddy Holly's death, they were safe to steal that so blatantly...
Despite only ever having one hit single, Randy and the Rainbows are still together today... In fact, there are TWO different bands currently doing the circuit with that name: one featuring Randy Safuto and his brother Frank, one featuring another original member, Mike Zero. What terrible event split them asunder? No one knows. And was their longevity aided at all by the success of the Blondie cover?
Why did Deborah Harry change Denise to Denis... and not Dennis? On the surface, the answer is blatantly obvious. Dennis isn't a very sexy name. But still... is Denis French? Is that why Debbie slips into cod-French halfway through the song? Why is Denis sexier than Dennis anyway? Are French men just sexier in general?
I wonder if the change from Denise to Denis was at all influential to David Lynch & Mark Frost when they created David Duchovny's cross-dressing DEA agent Denis/Denise Bryson in Twin Peaks...?
And finally...
Does anyone prefer the original to Blondie's recreation? Or is this one of those rare examples of a cover version that improves on the original?
Room 29, the new Jarvis Cocker album, is sure to confound and delight old Pulp fans in equal measure. Lyrically, it is classic Jarvis: a suite of songs set in sumptuous and seedy hotel rooms, full of the sly wit, outsider chic and unashamed sleaze that set Pulp apart from all other Britpop bands. Musically, it's a whole new kettle of fish. No guitars. No drums. No keyboards... except for Chilly Gonzales's grand piano. Occasionally they drag a string section in, but mostly this is smoky lounge bar stuff with occasional deviations into classical piano. It took me about one and a half listens to make up my mind.
I love it.
Closest comparison I can make is when Elvis Costello made The Juliet Letters with The Brodsky Quartet... although this is much, much better.
If Room 29 isn't in My Top Ten Albums of 2017, it will have been a blinding year for music.
Couldn't choose between these two tracks, so give them both a listen. I hope you love them like I do.
You are such a jerk You are a tearjerker You don't need a girlfriend You need a social worker...
Life could be a bed of roses... If it wasn't full of so many pricks... Who want to take it out On the Belle Boy
The Swede begins his latest post thus: "How often, dear reader, have you opened a post of your own with the
phrase 'I don't know very much about this lot, but....', or words to
that effect?"
Well, quite.
I know nothing of Annie Keating, other than that I found her 2013 album For Keeps in a charity shop and took a flyer. Turns out that was an excellent move as this is right up my street: folky country rock... let's be frank, Americana... reminiscent of Lucinda Williams or Kathleen Edwards, both of whom I love. Although Ms. Edwards appears to have put music-making on hold at the moment to open a coffee shop in her native Canada... yes, it seems she prefers Americanos to Americana.
Thank you. I'm here all week.
Anyway, in the meantime, Annie Keating makes a very welcome substitute...
It's been a year since he died and I still haven't quite come to terms with it. I accepted Bowie's death, I knew Leonard wasn't long for this world. George was a shock, but not entirely. Prince though...
Of all the artists we lost last year, Prince was the one I felt the hardest. For about a month after his death, I listened to little else but his back catalogue on repeat. He was one of the biggest superstars of my life. Many of the others had been recording long before I was born, but Prince started making music in my lifetime, created some of the most amazing records I ever heard... and then was taken far too soon. I wanted to honour that again, but since I've already compiled My Top Ten Prince Songs, here's the next best thing...
It did seem in the early 90s like the world might well be changing for the better. When Jesus Jones wrote this, they proclaimed Bob Dylan's dream was coming true...
I saw the decade in, when it seemed The world could change at the blink of an eye And if anything Then there's your Sign o' the Times
Guns don't kill people rappers do, From Bristol Zoo to B&Q, I want to rap, I want to rhyme Heard it in a song now I'm into gun crime, Its a sign of the times like Prince changin his name, Gotta have a shooter to be in the rap game, Like Michael Ryan about to snap, Guns don't kill people its just rap!
This is probably the first time I've featured Missy Elliott here, but I am a fan in small doses. I particularly like this one: always impressed by her ability to rap backwards. Wonder how she does that live?
You know Missy feel supa dupa Prince couldn't get me change my name, papa Kunta Kinte a slave again, no sir Picture black sayin', "Oh, yessa, massa"
Beck's whole Midnite Vultures album was a huge departure from his earlier work and wears its Prince influence proudly. A lot of artists have been influenced by Prince musically, but this song also shows huge lyrical influence. It could be the b-side to Raspberry Beret. Speaking of which...
Eminem, the self-proclaimed "worst thing since Elvis Presley", rarely has a positive word to say about any other artist (except, maybe, Dr. Dre). But while he cheerfully puts the boot into NSYNCH, Limp Bizkit and Moby in this track, he really can't bring himself to say anything bad about Prince, using him instead as a comparison for how long Marshall Mathers spent writing songs before he got his break.
Bill Callahan's epic captures better than anything what made Prince a superstar. He was a perfectionist. He lived for his music, more than just about any other artist we've had in popular music. Not all of that music was perfect, but it was his life. More than food, more than sex, more than anything else... music was what mattered to him.
1. Prince - My Name Is Prince
And he is funky.
Of course, the irony of this song was: very soon after, he stopped calling himself Prince and changed his name to an unpronounceable symbol just to piss Warner Brothers off. We all had to call him TAFKAP for the next eight years. But he was always Prince in our hearts.
While the other half is insistent on poisoning our three year old's ears with the latest Now CD whenever she takes him out in her car, I have pledged to give him a broader musical education. So I've begun compiling CDs full of upbeat, quirky or sunshiney pop songs from the 50s to the present day and I stick them on whenever I'm driving him about. As previously discussed, he picks up songs very quickly, often recognising them from a few notes of the intro ("Daddy, is this Mr. Blue Sky?"), although when he sings along he rarely remembers more than the chorus. You have to be careful with your song choices though... Louise asked me why I'd picked "Crazy For You" by Madonna rather than one of her other earlier hits. Well, I didn't want him singing "Like a virgin" at nursery, did I? And Sexy MF is definitely off the plate.
4. The Carpenters - Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft
He does like this Carpenters oldie though (yes, yes, I know it was originally by Klaatu), particularly because of the funny "radio DJ talking to space alien" intro, and so I was chuffed to pieces when he started singing it in the bath last night. Until...
"Calling occupants of inerplantetary crap."
"No, no, Sam, it's 'craft', not... Calling occupants of interplanetary craft. Don't say... Can you say 'craft'?"
"Crack?"
"Erm... 'craft'. CRA-FT."
"Crap."
"No, no, don't say... that's a naughty word, see, we don't say..."
"Well, daddy, there's nothing naughty about craps, just because they have pincers, they don't want to hurt you..."
Randy Newman is a mystery wrapped in an enigma with oxymoronic tendencies that lead to a serious dichotomy. On the one hand, he wrote some of the most razor sharp, acerbic lyrical throwdowns of the 60s, 70s and 80s: brickbats such as Rednecks, God's Song and Short People that took sarcastic songwriting to a whole new level. And let's face it, this particular track, written in 1972, is more appropriate today than ever...
On the other, he ended up writing heartfelt ballads for Pixar films, most notably Toy Story's You've Got A Friend In Me, a song guaranteed to force a lump into the throat of even the most hard-hearted cynic (i.e. me). Actually, I think that must be why Pixar gave him the job... and why he did it so well. I've resisted watching any of the Toy Story films for the last 20 years because of my severe Hanks allergy, but I finally relented for Sam's benefit and found them both enjoyable and moving... as long as I hammer nails into my ears whenever Woody speaks, I can really see their appeal. If you want sentiment without saccharine... yeah, Randy Newman was a good call.
Anyway, I've been a fan of our first and foremost Randy for a great many years, but the song that initially brought him to my attention was the glorious 80s pop sunbeam of I Love L.A., a recording that truly manages to have its cake, eat it, then throw the cake back up again... and go back for another piece. You know he's taking the piss, but you also know he genuinely loves the place. No song sums up the curious contradictions of Randy Newman better than this one...
I was very cautious about the Grandaddy reunion album. They were one of my favourite bands of the post Britpop era (saw them live at the Leadmill in Sheffield, early 00s), but I've struggled a bit with Jason Lytle's solo material. As Lytle is the driving force behind the band, I wasn't sure if he could really recapture that old Grandaddy magic again.
Well, after spinning the new record for a few weeks, I think it's fair to say he has. Last Place touches on familiar Grandaddy themes (nature vs. technology, the modern world making us obsolete) and is full to bursting with that curious mix of spacey guitars and sad Beach Boys harmonies. It's a worthy successor to their last album, 2006's Just Like The Fambly Cat, and in places even touches on the greatness of their masterpiece, The Sophtware Slump. (Lytle does like to test spellcheck.)
My favourite song at the moment is this one, a classic break-up record. I had to listen to it a while to work out why the boat was in the barn, but once it clicked, the metaphor was perfect.
I saw you sitting at a table by the water And you were going through the photos on your phone You looked so happy and relieved to be there all alone
Getting rid of all of me is what I figured Delete, deleting everything that had occurred That's when I backed away and headed out without a word
6: Lou Rawls - Street Corner Hustler's Blues / World Of Trouble (Live)
Someone famous once said, of Lou Rawls, that he had, "the classiest singing and silkiest chops in the singing game". Now that's a pretty bold claim about any artist, but you might give it a little more credence when you know who said it.
Francis Albert Sinatra.
And I reckon he knew a thing or two about classy singing and silky chops, don't you?
I've been a fan of Lou Rawls for some time now, and he's one of the few... the very, very few... recording artists that I'm interested in hearing a live album by. Generally, live albums... well, you had to be there. But a Lou Rawls live recording... well, you wish you had been there.
Rawls wasn't just a great singer. He was a glorious raconteur too. As evidenced on today's track from his 1966 album Live! I don't know exactly when or where it was recorded, but I would give my little toe to have been there in that club, watching this guy do his stuff...
Take a look in the dictionary under 'cool'. Lou Rawls will be staring right back at you.
Whenever I write these lists, I end up talking a lot about
lyrics. I've always been a lyrics man, ever since I was a lonely
teenager sat with his headphones on studying the Steinbeckian stories of
Bruce Springsteen, trying to puzzle out the puns of vintage Elvis
Costello or wondering (in my 20s, sadly, as I came to him late) how
Morrissey could write so incisively about my life when he'd never even
met me.
But... there is an alternative. Those jubilant singalongs
where the lyrics don't matter - all you need is a good nananana! Don't even start me on the sha-la-las, lalalas, shooby
doos or woo-hoos...
Be warned, this Top Ten starts off scary... and then goes places you really won't want to believe.
Before they imploded and Gerard Way converted to pseudo-Britpop solo albums (!) and comic book writing, MCR became one of the more interesting pop bands of the 21st Century. Emo? What's emo?
John Warren Geils Jr (pictured above) died earlier this week at the age of '71. He was the lead guitarist of the band that took his name, although lead singer Peter Wolf co-wrote a lot of the bands biggest hits along with keyboardist Seth Justman. In the UK, they're really only known for one song... but what a song!
Na na nana na na. Na na na nana na na na.
Their harmonica player was called Magic Dick.That will be all.
This was a re-post (edited somewhat to act as a tribute to the late J. Geils) from my old blog (December 2010). The scary thing is, the original post was a Top 20. So be warned... I have a volume 2 on standby if you say anything too hurtful in the comments section...
Another recent discovery which I owe to Whispering Bob. Described as "neo-folk" by the same type of people who go out of their way to over-pronounce the usually silent 'l' in the word folk. Plus, she's on Sub-Pop, so the musos will have to cock an ear.
Rosie comes from Michigan, is friends with Sufjan Stevens, and does stand-up comedy as well as singing and songwriting fine tunes like this one. Very Joni Mitchell, with a little bit of Kate Bush, and a third ingredient I recognise but can't quite place. Pretty Dress comes from her 2005 album If Songs Could Be Held, which is an awful title in no way indicative of the subtlety and sincerity of her tunesmithery. It's the classic tale of the gawky girl who wants to grow up into a princess, with a little Red Riding Hood imagery thrown in to suggest a darker ending than usual to this kind of song...
Put your red coat on and walk with the light in the woods If it gets dark don't get scared There's so much waiting for you Cover up your ears and don't show them 'Cause you're much better than them
And so we reach the end of My Top Ten Kennies. The final post was set in stone from the start. Indeed, it was Kenny Rogers who inspired this feature in the first place, and with a little suggestion from Brian, we were off. The only question remaining was which Kenny Rogers song was mighty enough to bring Kenny Wednesdays to a close?
Perhaps the most obvious choice would be Ruby, the tragic story of a disabled Korean war veteran whose wife is stepping out on him, something he'd put a stop to... if only he could reach his gun. Based on a true story (although the soldier was a WWII vet who did end up killing his wife), Mel Tillis's song was originally recorded by Johnny Darrell, but it was Kenny who made it famous. HOWEVER, I already gave that one a pretty good showing in My Top Ten Ruby Songs.
My all time favourite Kenny Rogers song is his debut hit from 1968, the anti-LSD, counterculture classic Just Dropped In (To Check What Condition My Condition Was In), as memorably featured in my favourite movie, The Big Lebowski. But I featured that just a couple of weeks back on My Top Ten April Fool's Day Songs.
The Gambler was in contention for a while... I even have a soft spot for the Bee Gees-written Islands In The Stream (with Dolly), although Rob Brydon did his best to steal that from me. In the end though, there was only one choice...
10. Kenny Rogers - Coward of the County
As a kid, I always felt I was, to paraphrase Michael Jackson in one of his many matey chats with Sir Thumbs Aloft, "a lover, not a fighter". There were times when I was bullied, or beaten up, or just picked on by the bigger, harder kids... and in those times, Coward of the County was a great inspiration to me. I know that may sound like the corniest thing I've ever written here, but I honestly believed "you don't have to fight to be a man". Of course, the whole message of CotC is that sometimes you do have to fight... and I always told myself that if anyone ever hurt someone I loved in the way the Gatlin Brothers hurt Becky, then I'd step up like Tommy did and wipe the floor with them.
In reality, of course, I'd probably just have had my head kicked in. Or worse. So it's probably a good job it never happened.
And so Kenny Wednesdays are no more. But don't despair. I've been promising that I knew exactly what would replace this series once we reached ten, and so now it can be revealed...
It's time to get Randy!
Come back next week for the first instalment of Randy Tuesdays. Let's drop the big one... and see what happens.
I have a pretty good handle on what type of songs to write about if I want a positive response in the My Top Ten comments section. What genres, what eras, what countries of origin. That in mind, I have a pretty good idea that my latest charity shop gamble will leave 90% of my regular respondents ice cold. I apologise for that in advance, but I think this is a pretty cool pop song.
Taken from the band's 2014 debut album, this is apparently one of their best loved tunes. I've not listened to the rest of the album yet, I just picked this at random and burned it onto one of my in-car comps. It's a great driving song, complete with shouty chorus and Friends-theme-tune-style handclaps. (Ugh - I know!) It's over-produced as most American alt-rock is these days, but I can even forgive it that.
You're really not going to like it though. Honest. I know you by now. That's OK. You don't have to pretend for me. I'm a big boy. I can take it.
When I started this series, I knew I'd have to write about this song... and I knew it would involve confessing to something I'm now pretty ashamed of.
I was a homophobic child.
There's no getting away from this fact. Like many of my age in the 80s, I viewed gay people with suspicion and said some pretty horrible things about them, through blind ignorance. It was only when I started working in radio (at 16) that I ended up meeting a lot of gay people, some of whom would become close, long term friends (three of the best friends I've had over the last 30 years, in fact) that my eyes were opened and my prejudice washed away.
But before that, there was Boy George.
I was 11 when Karma Chameleon hit the top of the charts and I hated it. Because there was George, a Boy dressed like a girl, and I really didn't like it. I can't take full responsibility for that: it was the attitude of the times, and only through the outspoken work of openly gay pop stars like George and Jimmy Sommerville did people's attitudes finally start to change. It would be a good few years before George Michael or Freddie Mercury (both of whom I adored back then) officially came out. And it took Barry Manilow till LAST WEEK to finally admit it. I realise now the horrible irony of hating a song which is essentially about accepting people without prejudice... because I was prejudiced myself. But at 11, it's hard to see the forest for the trees,
Having just listened to Karma Chameleon all the way through for the first time in ages, maybe the song has finally grown on me, as well as the message. Love that harmonica...
I've been off work ill for most of the week, fighting a head-cold of volcanic proportions... or man-flu, if you prefer. Lying there in my sick bed, in between sleeping and watching Twin Peaks to prepare for the new series in May, I had some time to ponder the big questions of life. Why am I here? What use am I to anyone? Will Pulp ever get back together?
Here are ten tunes that ponder similar existential quandaries...
Another one I remember vividly from my youth... though this was released in 1975. How many three year olds wonder where they're going to? (Beyond the toy shop?) I might have to ask my boy...
Do you know where you're going to? Do you like the things that life is showing you? Where are you going to, do you know? Do you get what you're hoping for? When you look behind you there's no open door. What are you hoping for, do you know?
Of course, there had to be Radiohead. Stick a pin in the Radiohead songbook and you'll burst an existential bubble every time. It wears me out.
But I can't help the feeling I could blow through the ceiling If I just turn and run And if I could be who you wanted If I could be who you wanted All the time All the time
Try this next week: consider your place in the universe. (Alternatively, consider how young Michael Stipe looks in this video.)
Stand in the place where you live
Now face north
Think about direction
Wonder why you haven't before
Now stand in the place where you work
Now face west
Think about the place where you live
Wonder why you haven't before
OK, so along with Wichita Lineman and ThereIs A Light That Never Goes Out, I want this song playing at my funeral. I hope that's not too big an ask.
Do you realize that everyone you know Someday will die?
And instead of saying all of your goodbyes, let them know You realize that life goes fast It's hard to make the good things last You realize the sun doesn't go down It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round
1.Talking Heads - Once In A Lifetime
I really struggled getting this week's Top Three into order; any one of them could have taken the top slot. But come on, you don't get much more existential than this... do you?
And you may ask yourself What is that beautiful house? And you may ask yourself Where does that highway go to? And you may ask yourself Am I right? Am I wrong? And you may say yourself, "My God! What have I done?"
I called this post Volume 1 because I'm sure I've just scraped the surface of existential pop songs. Feel free to suggest some more big questions and I might do a volume 2 sometime...
Someone told me a story the other day about why The Hold Steady weren't releasing new albums at the moment, and why Craig Finn was solo. It sounded plausible enough: it actually sounded like the plot of one of Finn's own mini-widescreen indie movies set to song. I don't know if it was true so I'm not repeating it here. It doesn't matter, the solo albums are pretty damned brilliant. Much better than the last Hold Steady album, as it goes. Finn is a born storyteller, and nowhere is that more evident than on this cut from his brand new record, We All Want The Same Thing. It's kind of the title track, and it's far more blatantly a story-song than anything else on the album. Hell, two thirds of it are just Finn talking, telling that story.
But what a story. Best thing I've heard this week.
With only one more Kenny Wednesday to go after this one, it appears I have a surfeit of Kennies. Time for a Top Ten of the ones that didn't quite make the grade (maybe because they're a Ken or Kenneth, maybe because I wasn't particularly enamoured with them in the first place), along with a nod to those who suggested them...
First though, thanks to JC for suggesting Kenn(ed)y by The Wedding Present, which is an all time favourite of mine, but... if I include that, I have to start thinking about The Dead Kennedy's, Kenickie, Kent and all manner of other things. Kendrick Lamar. Whoever he is.
I know I've been going on a lot lately about my immersion in all things 70s... but I think this is one you had to be there for. I was there in 1975: I was three. But still...
Charity Chic and Alyson wanted to hear it again though... and who am I to deny them?
I have two theories as to why Kenny G is loathed by the muserati.
i) As recently discussed over at Alyson's blog, musos can't stand anyone with a shaggy perm. In the case of Michael Bolton, they'd be absolutely right. In most other cases though... I beg to differ.
ii) The saxophone is an instrument that very much upsets guitar purists. I'm not sure why this is. Perhaps because it's seen as a grandstanding, show off instrument... or perhaps because it hints at jazz.
Anyway, I have absolutely nothing against Kenny G. That said, I only own one recording on which he parps that sax and wags that shaggy perm. It's from Old Blue Eyes's late stage Duets album, a CD I was very fond of when it came out. The tracks above are probably my two favourite Sinatra songs, and while the original versions are far superior, I think Kenny G puts on a pretty good show of "duetting" with the Legend... even though I very much doubt they were ever in the same studio.
This one goes out to Chris and The Swede who both wondered if I'd go there...
You Am I are an Australian band I was first introduced to by my old Aussie blogging pal (now semi-retired, it seems), Deano. It was good to hear from him again with this suggestion.
I thought someone had suggested this particular Kenny, but I've lost track of the comment now: apologies if it was you. I remember Kenny Lynch as a stalwart of variety TV shows when I was growing up. He had a successful musical career before that, most notably with his version of Up On The Roof... which stopped the (far superior, sorry, Kenny) version by The Drifters being a hit in the UK.
Most bizarre of all though, he wrote the lyrics to John Carpenter's music for the title track (You Can't Fight) of Carpenter's movie Assault On Precinct 13, as recorded by Jimmie Chambers.
A top story song, and a decidedly un-punk song from Billy Idol and Tony James's second album, Valley of the Dolls. A kind of glam/prog epic, it hearkens back to the kind of music punk was set up to replace... which probably explains why the album didn't do particularly well in 1979. A shame, because I love this track. It was a serious contender for the 9th Kenny, until a little birdie reminded me of this...
1. The Small Faces - Lazy Sunday Afternoon
Thanks to C for pointing out this week's Number One: and the official Number #9 in my Top Ten... otherwise, the spelling of this Kenney's name would have made him slip through the net. Not only was Kenney Jones the drummer in the small faces, but he also replaced the late Keith Moon in The Who.
Seriously, if your biography includes the words, "replaced the late Keith Moon in The Who", I think you can consider your life a success.
Only one Kenny left. No prizes for guessing who. But... which song?
There are only two types of story, at least if you go by Shakespeare: comedies and tragedies.
Actually, some argue there's a third: histories, but they tend to be one of the former in disguise. Actually ii: if you study writing as much as I did in my misspent youth, you'll find there are many different numbers given to how many basic stories there are: 7, 10, twenty-something... but, as usual, I digress. Let's just stick with two for today, shall we?
Americana is one genre of music where storytelling is all-important and one of its foremost practitioners is the great Todd Snider, an artist who was introduced to me by the DJ Bob Harris. Many other favourite artists found their way into my record collection via Whispering Bob, so I was very sad to see his late Saturday night Radio 2 show end last week after 20 years. It appears to have been his decision to quit (he's still presenting his country show on the network) but I'm sure a large part of his decision will be down to the way Radio 2 have messed him around over recent years. He'll leave a big gap in my record collection... I even thought of doing a Top Ten Artists I Discovered Through Bob Harris... but then I decided no one else would be interested (not that that's ever stopped me before).
Anyway, back to Todd Snider, the storyteller. I'm showcasing two Todd story songs today, one a comedy (that really does make me chuckle), one a serious tragedy. You'll have to listen to them to find out which is which. Go on, I'm not going to do all the work for you...
10. Todd Snider - You Think You Know Somebody / Talkin' Seattle Grunge Rock Blues
Ten songs about April Fool's Day, along with ten amazing facts about the artists in question. But which ones are true and which ones are the APRIL FOOL?!?
It was only after failing the audition to play bass in Soul Asylum that Kurt Cobain decided to form Nirvana. As a result, Soul Asylum's place in rock 'n' roll history is set in stone.
Following her acting debut in the film Blues Brothers, Aretha Franklin briefly considered taking the Kathy Bates role in the film adaptation of the Stephen King novel Misery. She was talked out of it by her good friend George Michael (with whom she duetted on the 1987 Number One, I Knew You Were Waiting For Me).
When 90s singer-songwriter Patti Smyth had a big hit with her Don Henley duet, Sometimes Love Ain't Enough, the original Patti Smith sued her for the right to the pronunciation of her own name. When Patti the first won the case, Patti the second was forced to change the i sound in her name to a y sound to avoid confusion.
Comedian and Pointless presenter Alexander Armstrong was a member of Jake Shillingford's My Life Story orchestra. He played trumpet on a number of MLS songs, though not, sadly, this one.
Del
Amitri's lead singer & songwriter Justin Currie is a distant relative of
infamous Spitting Image puppet and John Major bit on the side, Edwina Curry.
(Seriously, April Fool's gags aside... imagine going down in history as
"John Major's bit on the side". You've got to have some sympathy for poor Edwina...)
Loudon Wainwright III is actually the fourth generation of Loudon in his family. He just thought III sounded cooler. Then he decided to mess with tradition and call his own son...
Rufus wrote the lyrics to one of his best songs, Going To A Town, while under general anaesthetic for an operation on a particularly nasty ingrowing toenail.
Lambchop mainman Kurt Wagner was such a fan of Marvel's X-Men comic book in his youth that he wrote a fan letter to the book every month. In recognition of his dedication, writer Len Wein named an X-Man after him. Kurt Wagner: Nightcrawler.
Following the success of their 1983 hit New Year's Day, Bono and Thedge briefly considered recording a whole album based around days of the year. The project was soon abandoned, but this track did later resurface as the b-side to their 1987 release, In God's Country (not a big hit, probably because it was the SEVENTH single from The Joshua Tree). I'm not the world's biggest U2 fan, but I do think this is one of the best things they ever recorded.
1. Kenny Rogers & The First Edition - Just Checked In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In)
My favourite April Fool's song doesn't actually have April Fool in the title. It does feature in the lyrics though...
Someone painted April Fool in big black letters on a Dead End sign I had my foot on the gas as I left the road and blew out my mind Eight miles outta Memphis and I got no spare Eight miles straight up downtown somewhere I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in
When Kenny disbanded the First Edition in the early 80s to go solo, several other members of the band went on to form New Edition and top the charts with the song Candy Girl.
I'll reveal the answers next week. In the meantime have fun guessing the April Fools...
