After sending my former boss (and nemesis) to Coventry in yesterday's post, I figured I'd go there myself today.
Coventry is the 12the largest city in the UK, according to iffypedia, and it was the birthplace of yodeller Frank Ifield ("I remember hi-im!"), Hazel O'Connor, Clint Mansell from PWEI, Julieanne Regan from All About Eve, The Primitives, Paul King, Pete Waterman and Lee Dorrian from Napalm Death. Probably the most famous musical sons of Coventry though are Terry Hall, Jerry Dammers and Neville Staple - The Specials. The Selector also hail from Coventry so there must be ska in the water (a ska spa?).
Oh, and Lady Godiva famously rode through the streets of Coventry NAKED, which proved very exciting to this particular Californian...
If I were doing this job properly (like Alyson does), I'd now be explaining to you the origins of the phrase "sent to Coventry" rather than just directing you here. Instead, here's someone who can give even Van Morrison a run for his money in the grumpy stakes...
They're smiling sweetly while they're looking daggers
Kick you where it really matters
Send all your friends to Coventry
And look for your name in last night's obituaries
But the winners today are the hometown crew. Although they don't mention their native city by name in their biggest hit, drummer John Bradbury (another Coventry lad) says it's where the inspiration came from...
"When I think about Ghost Town, I think about Coventry. I saw it develop from a boom town, my family doing very well, through to the collapse of the industry and the bottom falling out of family life. Your economy is destroyed and, to me, that's what Ghost Town is about."
Still manages to sends shivers down my spine, this, every time I hear it...
In the mid-late 90s, my role at the station was split 50/50 between programming and commercial production. The programming side involved working on the phone-in, cataloguing music and attending playlist meetings. These were held weekly to decide which new releases should be put on the A list, B list, C list (evenings only) or restricted to "specialist shows" such as chart rundowns or our weekly "anything goes" indie/rock show. Usually present at these meetings were myself, D (drivetime presenter and "Head of Music", still a good friend of mine so many years later), J (deputy programme controller) and (occasionally) "Tim Allen", my nemesis (see previous post). The commercial production side involved writing (and occasionally producing) radio ads. I'll talk more about that in the future, but for now it's enough to say that while I worked in that department, I had three of the best managers I've ever had: P, M & I. Each was different, but each understood the fundamental nature of the business: writing radio ads is an utterly ridiculous job, so let's get it done as quickly and easily as possible and then have some fun. They were, each of them, the complete antithesis of Tim Allen, and I'll consider them close friends to the day I die (even though M has completely disappeared off the face of the earth and I doubt I'll ever see or speak to him again... but that was just M).
Anyway, the playlist meeting where I almost lost my job because of Robbie Williams... Iffypedia tells me this story must have taken place in early 1998. We'd spent a couple of years by this point fighting to get the likes of Blur, Oasis and Pulp daytime airplay, with occasional victories, but I'd never expected my greatest defeat to come via Robbie Williams.
This day, however, Tim Allen had elected to join the playlist meeting to contribute his own distinctive brand of ignorance. Bear in mind, for those of you who weren't present last time...
This man had NO INTEREST in popular music WHATSOEVER.
He also had no KNOWLEDGE or UNDERSTANDING of popular music WHATSOEVER.
And so we come to Robbie Williams - Let Me Entertain You.
Now I'd ask you at this point to put aside your own personal prejudices (whatever they may be) concerning Mr. Williams and consider the fact that, at this point in time, his career could not get much higher. After successfully escaping Take That, he'd build a solid repertoire of solo singles which were threatening to eclipse his former band. His previous single, Angels, had been one of the biggest selling songs of 2017 even though it was released in December and ended up selling even more copies in 2018. It had been A-listed by every radio station in the country, so playlisting its follow-up seemed a no-brainer to everyone in the meeting.
Everyone except Tim Allen.
Tim Allen did not like this song because it featured "heavy guitars". It was, he said, "too rock - verging on metal". It was not suitable for our station at all. "I wouldn't even want it playing on your little indie show, it's too loud for that."
(For the record, neither myself nor D would have considered playing Robbie Williams on the indie show... although we may have given his cheeky, rocked-up version of Back For Good a couple of spins.)
At this point, I rather lost my cool with Tim Allen. I tried to explain to him that given the success of Angels, Williams was guaranteed another big hit with the follow-up (and although it didn't sell more copies, Let Me Entertain You did eventually achieve a higher chart position than its predecessor) and we'd be foolish to ignore it.
"No," he insisted, "it's a godawful racket. He's a one hit wonder. Beyond Angels, nobody will even remember him in 6 months time. He'll be back in Boyzone before you know it."
OK, I made that last line up for effect, but the rest of it is verbatim. Even two decades later, I remember this bullshit word for word.
It was the "one hit wonder" line that did it for me. After that, I stopped listening to him. I may have tried to point out that Williams had had four Top 20 hits prior to Angels, or I may have just put my head in my hands and given up. For the rest of the meeting, I treated him with the contempt he deserved. I refused to speak to him. I refused to make eye contact with him. I sent him to Coventry.
Looking back on it now, it wasn't the most mature reaction, and much as I still loathe Tim Allen and everything he represented, I feel I could have been a bit more grown-up about it. But I was a young man, full of piss and vinegar, and he was an idiot.
Only much later did I learn that my behaviour in that meeting almost lost me my job. Apparently, on returning to his office, Tim Allen was so incensed by the way I'd treated him that he got straight on the phone to P, my other boss at that time (in commercial production), to demand that I was fired immediately. (For some reason, Tim Allen couldn't unilaterally fire me as I worked for two departments; it had to be a joint firing from both my managers.)
P, however, wasn't in. He'd gone out on a call. (Not that P would have fired me, ever - he would have fought my corner to the end. He had very little time for Tim Allen. Few sane people did.) A colleague took a message for P to call Tim Allen back, which then got lost, so P never even had the conversation. By the next day, Tim Allen had calmed down enough to decide he didn't actually want my head on a platter, though relations were even chillier than usual between us for the next few months.
Some years later, when Tim Allen finally left the station for pastures new, he remarked to another colleague, "I bet Rol's throwing a party to celebrate". And do you know what, reader? I did.
Here's a song I've never been able to listen to in the same way since. For all its pomp and cheese, I love it... perhaps just because Tim Allen hated it. What better reason could there be?
The most famous of all murdered pop stars. The Cranberries give a voice to his killer, Mark David Chapman, but their sympathies remain with the Walrus.
I never quite got Chumbawamba's message here, other than that - in their opinion - famous pop stars are hypocrites for getting involved in charity appeals. (By their calculations, Live Aid, Band Aid and Sport Aid raised less than half of Michael Jackson's "personal amassed fortune", "or about the same as the world spends on arms every two hours, forty minutes".
Most of the lyrics just do what it says in the title, but they do nail Cliff Richard to a cross towards the end... and there's another version where they do the same to John Lydon, for balance.
Poor old Rick Astley. Back in the late 80s, I hated him in his role as SAW poster-boy, but I've developed a weird respect for him over the years. Even Nick Lowe feels bad about writing these lines in All Men Are Liars now...
Well do you remember Rick Astley?
He had a big fat hit it was ghastly
He said I’m never gonna give you up or let you down
Here's Leonard turning the gun on himself... in reaction to his own critics.
"This song is for my critics and for my judges and for those who give marks to us everywhere, who evaluate our performance whether it is in the courtroom or the cloakroom or the bedroom. This is for the judges."
Paul Heaton's trick is to get someone with a much sweeter voice to sing his most poisonous lines, hence Jacqui Abbott's the one who gives voice to this hugely topical song (even more so today than when it was written 5 years ago) about the perils of Little Britain's fake-nostalgic jingoism which ends up making a figurehead of Mr. Collins, esquire.
Simon & Julia don't actually want the notorious Libertine to drop dead. This is more a comment on media vultures and a public over-obsessed with celebrity death. Apparently.
1. Chris T-T - Dreaming Of Injured Pop Stars
A similar sentiment powers Chris T-T's somewhat dated (pop-reference wise) yet still ESSENTIAL Number One (sorry, CC). Always raises a smile in this house anyway...
The bit about the Stereophonics is my favourite. Poor old Kelly Jones.
Got any pop star hit lists of your own? Share with the group.
38 Special are a Southern rock band formed by Donnie Van Zant, the younger brother of Lynyrd Skynyrd singer Ronnie.
As Martin identified in last week's comments, loads of songs make mention of the Smith & Wesson .38 Special, and though he chose not to mention them "in the spirit of gun control", that didn't stop the rest of you! I was metaphorically blown away by the following fully-loaded suggestions from...
All roads lead back to Nick Lowe. Going with "Me and My .38" by Carlene Carter off of 'Blue Nun' from 1981. This one was co-written and produced by then husband Lowe. She's backed by Lowe's band at the time... Paul Carrack, Martin Belmont, James Eller and Bobby Irwin. Love this album. Tough broad. When she leaves the key under the mat, you better show up or you'll have a double date with her and her .38.
I wish I could find that somewhere online, Brian, because it sounds like a cracker. Sadly, the internet let me down. However, I'll see your Nick Lowe suggestion and raise you this...
I'm not putting that into google translate, but I bet it's mucky.
Back to Martin then, who clearly thinks he's identified a smart way of winning this game: just choose songs by my favourite artists. (Although Lynchie's still smarting that this tactic didn't work for him last week.)
(Yeah, I know that last one would get quickly disqualified if one of you suggested it, but it's still a belter if you like Jeff Lynne shamelessly ripping off the Beatles.)
But, I'm sure it comes with great relief that Douglas saved you all from having to listen to Jon Bon Jovi's boob-inspired lyrics this week by suggesting this cracking story song from his oft-requested Canadian heroes, The Tragically Hip. I have a weakness for story songs, particularly when they involve breaking out of prison.
As I've been listening to a lot of old Go-Betweens records lately, I was tempted to check out the latest solo offering from surviving founder member Robert Forster. Pretty damned good it is too.
Here's a couple of fine tunes from it, firstly this upbeat offering which reminds me of Talking Heads... although perhaps that's just Robert's performance in the video.
Then, slower and more atmospheric, but with that very distinct Go-Betweens guitar sound... hell, fellow Aussie Nick Cave would be proud of this one as well, I reckon...
Thank you for Stayin' Alive long enough to come back and check out the answers to yesterday's Saturday Snapshots. Here's hoping You Win Again, without any Tragedy.
Lynchie just took the prize this week, with Rigid Digit failing to nail a draw by not working out the Happy Mondays song. If in doubt, go for the obvious one! Chris and Charity Chic shared out the rest of the points, although CC needed a little prompting.
Enough of my Jive Talkin'...
10. Lost kangaroo perplexes one-handed table tennis rulers.
Wishing to dodge the shame of spotting this one, Rigid Digit revealed he'd seen them on an old TOTP repeat the night before. Alyson, ashamed to have not spotted them, replied, "I thought to myself, the only band I can think of with a long curly-haired female singer is T’Pau but it’s not a picture of Carol Decker. I was wrong!"
It did take me a while to find a photo of T'Pau where Carol Decker was not immediately recognisable. Then again, not everybody had quite the same teenage interest in that lady that I did.
4. Queasy, dizzy, teary... how much does the honeymaker charge to get across the river?
C wondered, "Is no. 4 the lovely Bee Bridgetoll with 'Pre-menstrual'? Sorry... but it should be, I'm sure it'd be great."
It would be great, though if that were an actual song, I'd have been more likely to go with a clue about stabbing your other half with a bread-knife because they'd slightly burnt the toast. Not that I'm talking from personal experience or anything.
With an extra clue about this lady also working in a Community Centre, Charity Chic was able to solve this one.
What's the bee's fee? To take you across the bridge?
Looking to pay another visit to Northern Ireland on this feature, I figured Shane MacGowan would be a good person to ask.
Sure enough, he directed me to Antrim Town in County Antrim, a town that doesn't appear to have any famous musical sons and daughters... unless you known differently... although Liam Neeson does hail from just a few miles up the road in Ballymena.
When he last stepped up that street
Shining steel in hand
Behind him marched in gray array
A stalwart earnest band
For Antrim town, for Antrim town
He lept into the fray
Now young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the bridge of Tuam today...
Sounds a bit like the plot of a Liam Neeson movie, that.
I've no idea why Jenny Lewis chose to be photographed from the next down on her latest album cover, other than that the image is a direct follow-up to her last album cover which looked like this...
With another artist, you may wonder whether they were making a subtle comment about men who talk to / focus on a lady's boobs rather than her face. With Jenny, it's anybody's guess. She's very hard to predict / understand / pigeonhole... and maybe that's why she's become one of my favourite artists over the past few years.
On The Line continues a fine traditional of literate, sunny LA pop/rock records, with Lewis's uniquely detailed storytelling lyrics and her gorgeous vocals working together to mesmeric effect. Here's a fine example from the opening track, Heads Gonna Roll...
Took a little trip up north In a borrowed convertible red Porsche With a narcoleptic poet from Duluth And we disagreed about everything From Elliott Smith to Grenadine He fell asleep and I put up the roof
And he took me to a graveyard I thought he'd kill me there And he kissed me on the corner While the nuns of Harlem stared
The title track is my favourite at the moment - it's the Ronettes meets Karen Carpenter, built around a lyric that vintage Elvis Costello would have been proud to pen...
Before you let her under your sweater
Tonight Listen to my heart beating On the line
Surely a contender for track of the year?
(If anyone's wondering about the title of this post, it's a reference to this... which I'm really hoping will make an appearance in Charity Chic's Double Initials TT post this Saturday... but it probably won't.)
As I mentioned last week, things are particularly fraught here as we prepare to move house. Again. I'd hoped to stay in our current home a little longer as it's the best home I've ever paid a mortgage on, but circumstances conspired to make us realise that if we could move now, we might save some money in the long-term. (The move is inevitable at some point in the next 4-5 years in order to get Sam into the High School we want him to go to... not the one I went to!)
Our house sold very quickly, which has meant there's been a mad rush over the past few weeks to find a suitable new home. We've had some pretty outrageous experiences viewing properties over the years (scarily, this will be the FOURTH house Louise and I have bought together over the last 11 years), and often that's been down to the estate agents selling them.. or the owners still residing in them.
There have been houses with dripping dungeons in the basement, houses with dead squirrels in the garden, one hi-tech Jetson's House with a bright orange shower room and the computer system from War Games in its garage... and our personal favourite, the house that was owned by Keef Richards' hippy brother, who told us: "You can't go upstairs, man - Rosie's in the bath!"
Here's ten songs that remind me of looking for a new house... and the estate agents lies that try to sell you homes you don't want.
Just in case you didn't get the message first time. Most of our moves have involved this kind of thing, one way or another. "L'enfer c'est les autres."
I was woken up at four a.m. by your screams and anguished cries Your mother was singing in the bathroom, she will never be my child Oh baby talks in her sleep so loud We're living four flights up but I swear right now it feels like underground!
Love to meet the estate agent that sold Lloyd this one!
1. The Four Tops - 7 Rooms of Gloom
I see a house, a house of stone A lonely house, 'cos now you're gone Seven rooms, that's all it is, seven rooms of gloom I live with emptiness, without your tenderness
"But, on the plus side, there is an en-suite..."
Any songs in your collection the estate agents must have lied about?
Followed soon after by Lynchie, who went all weird on us...
Primer mi carucha (Chevy '39) Going to El Monte Legion Stadium Pick up on my weesa (she is so divine) Helps me stealing hub caps Wasted all the time
The
above are the opening lyrics to "Dog Breath, in the Year of the Plague"
by The Mothers Of Invention. The vocals are stupendous, especially
Nelcy Walker's soprano voice backed by Ray Collins & Roy Estrada.
This track led me to purchase "Cruising with Ruben & the Jets" - an
earlier Mothers' album which has some of the best doo-wop songs ever
recorded.
Lynchie's second suggestion was a bit more down-to-earth... and surely a shoe-in for this week's winner as it comes from one of my favourite albums...
A friend of mine became a father last night When we spoke in his voice I could hear the light Of the skies and the rivers the timberwolf in the pines And that great jukebox out on Route 39
Then again, much as I love The Boss, it's only two weeks since he last claimed the top spot in this countdown. Would I really give it to him again?
Our Canadian correspondent, Douglas McLaren, was pretty sure I would...
Darn. Got beaten to the Boss, which I am guessing is the "shoe-in". Oh
well. Though Valentine's Day is (in my opinion) the better song,
Springsteen's "Stand On It" is a rollickin' great-balls-of-fire b-side
belter that also refers to Route 39.
Nope. Not this week, Douglas. What else have you got for me?
A few other offerings as outside chances. For starters, there is last
week's poster boys, UB40, with "Hold Your Position, Mk3". Not the
biggest UB40 fan, but that one sits in the record collection. Lyrics
mention "39 Acker Tree, Frontline"...not sure if that is an address or
what?
Hardly a desirable residence, by the sounds of it.
I feel I should mention Canada's Own Gordon Lightfoot again
this week, as his offering for "40" went down fighting. The song "Drink
Yer Glasses Empty". A typically Lightfoot song, semi-autobiographical I
suppose given that he was in fact born in 1938, but timeless
considering the world today:
Better drink yer glasses empty now It's time to rise and shine There's one less cause in the world To be leaving for It was back in 39 When I was one year old Sitting by the backyard fence And the world had turned so cold...
Another
one that actually sits in the collection since I picked up a vinyl copy
at a charity shop, but I am not actually all that fond of myself
(outside chance perhaps?) is World Party, "The Ballad of The Little
Man". The Latin Teacher in me appreciates the Classical allusion in the
lyrics, though:
He's an animal but he thinks he's God Gets him mixed up with him And we're all at the mercy Of this little man within He was doing fine in 39 Thank God he did not win He kept playing on his fiddle As he watched old Rome cave in...
Well, we crossed the state line about 6: 39 And we saw the sign that said, "Twine Ball exit, fifty miles" Oh, the kids were so happy they started singing "99 Bottles Of Beer On The Wall" for the twenty-seventh time that day...
It
reminds me of my summer vacations as a kid. Every last one of them.
And at least by mentioning in now it pre-empts its obvious chances of
being a take-all winner in 12 weeks time when number 27 comes up.
Yeah, that's the winne... oh, no, sorry, it isn't. Nice try though.
Who else do we have? Ah, George...
Of course Spanish Bombs will not be featuring.........
Well, it will be featuring, George. It just won't be winning. Nothing against Mr. Strummer and co. I'm just not cool enough to worship them in quite the same way many other venerable bloggers do.
Spanish songs in Andalucia The shooting sites in the days of '39 Oh, please, leave the vendanna open Fredrico Lorca is dead and gone Bullet holes in the cemetery walls The black cars of the Guardia Civil Spanish bombs on the Costa Rica I'm flying in a DC 10 tonight
Next up was Rigid Digit, with three fine suggestions...
A beautiful ballad where Kelly shows that love songs don’t just have to be about the young ones…
That is pretty special. Thanks, Deano.
And you all for playing, as ever. Before we get onto this week's winner (as immidiately identified by Martin, and seconded by Deano), here's a few more offerings from my hard-drive...
Sippin' Shirley Thompson doesn't care She's 39 and feelin' fine and not much up to goin' anywhere Her husband is a bible salesman and at 39 his hair fell out She said there's not a hair between him and the heaven that he talks about
All good songs, but the songs from our teenage years often leave the biggest impression, don't they? And that's certainly the case with this tune from Queen's A Night At The Opera album, a favourite of mine was I was 15 (even though it was released 12 years earlier). I never had much of an idea what the song was about, I just thought it was a pretty tune and Brian does a good job on vocals. Iffypedia reveals the lyrics go back to Brian's days as an astrophysicist...
The song tells the tale of a group of space explorers who embark on what
is, from their perspective, a year-long voyage. Upon their return,
however, they realise that a hundred years have passed, because of the time dilation effect in Einstein's special theory of relativity, and the loved ones they left behind are now all dead or aged.
Pure country today - or Ameripolitan if you want to get genre specific - from an artist I first came across about 20 years ago when he released an album of Truck Driving country songs that caught my attention.
A former trucker himself, Dale Watson carved a niche for himself in the big-rig country sub-genre but he's steered away from that in recent years to embrace a broader, Johnny Cash-influenced sound. At 56, with over 30 albums under his belt, there appears to be no slowing him down... despite all those dumb vices he just can't shake.
It's Sunday morning, and though you may all be wishing to Enter Sandman for another couple of hours' kip, it's important you get up and check your answers to Saturday Snapshots. Nothing Else Matters!
Another close-fought battle yesterday morning with Lynchie & Ramone tying on two and a half points each, but Charity Chic pipping them both to the post with an impressive three - largely down to his expert knowledge of women with balls. Congratulations and thanks to all for playing.
10. Discrimination is beneath the construction crew.
Oh, no, sorry, it's not, is it? But Mama, We're All Crazee Now about Saturday Snapshots, the quiz in which you all fight amongst yourselves to be first to identify artists and titles from the silly clues below.
Here's ten more to have a go at... Coz I Love You.
10. Discrimination is beneath the construction crew.
9. Queen of chefs grows a pair.
8. Abnormal abilities are impossible.
7. Captain Kirk meets a Doctor Who for S&M.
6. Ridiculous me tells unbelievable stories.
5. In the afternoon, rappers and angels love a rut.
4. Mirror. Cognac. Snap!
3. Kennel Club holds a hot lead... which would be my preference.
2. A racist nanny prepares for a hike.
1. Shoeless dating incredulity.
Look Wot You Dun (in terms of scores on the doors) tomorrow morning. Until then.. Gudbuy T' Jane.
(The English teacher in me would like to apologise for Mr. Holder's spelling. He'll be staying behind again after class this week.)
