What the world needs now is another tribute to one of the most important musicians of the 20th Century. From his peerless work with lyricist Hal David to later collaborations with Carole Bayer Sager, Neil Diamond and Elvis Costello, Burt Bacharach created an unparalleled songbook of timeless classics. What can I say that hasn't already been said by far more erudite folk than me?
How about sitting back and listening to a few tributes from the Celebrity Jukebox? And who better to start with than... The Quo?!?
Hardly going to beat that, am I?
Maybe not, but I was pleased to find that a number of my favourite artists happily name dropped Burt B. in their lyrics. For example...
I would like to keep this vision Of you intact, When we'd hang around and listen To Bacharach And you loved the world you lived in And it loved you back
It's closing time And the drunks sing some stray lines of Bacharach It's too late now to even out the score You drain the glass and raise your hand for more So I'll take cover while you just take the floor
If you ever need a stranger To sing at your wedding A last minute choice then I am your man I know every song, you name it By Bacharach or David Every stupid love song that's ever touched your heart Every power ballad that's ever climbed the charts
Now that's the kind of room I'd like to fill with Burt Bacharach music The look of love Is in your eyes
Remember when Burt was married to Angie Dickenson Can't you see her Angie's in an evening gown Drinking scotch on the rocks Those rocks are clinking as she walks across the room "The Look of Love" rises from Burt's piano Oh, what a muse!
But oh you could fool me into staying Talking in the corner, hating all the music playing I like the Rockmes and Bacharach And I'd happily burn a playlist with an explanation Track for track
Meet me in the backwoods, we're going after dark We're digging a hole in the ground, there's no need to worry at all You ask too many questions like, "who's it for?" etcetera C'mon, you must know you're already gone Just think back to Bacharach & chocolate-covered strawberries Since you seem to think it's our only good memory You say you've been done around here No need to repeat, you've made it perfectly clear That you're already gone
All of which leads us back to where we started, songs that mention Burt in the title. Can anyone compete with the Quo? You decide...
Today's best discovery comes from "Withington's Burt Bacharach", Chris Keaney and his Electric Lovehandles. Let's just say that bandcamp purchases ensued. This is proving an expensive feature for me...
Happy New Year from Top Ten Towers. After all the excitement of my 2015 countdown, we now return you to your regular programming: random Top Tens plucked from my record collection. Although the first tune this week kinda breaks that rule.
2016 is a leap year, which means there's one extra day. But although February will now have 29 days, there will be no 8 day weeks... no matter what the Beatles would have you believe. All of which is an extremely tenuous way of introducing this lot...
I was genuinely surprised to discover that there is NO Sting in my record collection. And, as this blog will often demonstrate, I have some UTTER TAT in my record collection. But no Sting. Yeah, I've got The Police, and a few random collaborations, but not one solo Sting tune. I'm not quite sure why. I mean, yes, I do consider him a bit of a tosser, but it's not as though I actively dislike him in the way I actively dislike Bono or the Gallaghers. (And I own music by all three of those idiots.) My favourite Sting song is his version of Spread A Little Happiness from the soundtrack to Brimstone & Treacle, but sadly (some kind of rights issue?), this has never featured on any Sting compilations... otherwise I might have been tempted to buy it.
Anyway, Sting's Seven Days is perfectly adequate Radio 2 filler, and it would have been churlish not to have given it at least a mention once I remembered it.
Frank Black might help re-establish my indie credentials a little. This doesn't sound anything like the Pixies, but it's unmistakably Black Francis. Strange, that.
When Camper Van Beethoven called it a day, David Lowery decided to play it a little more straight with his next band, Cracker. But the old lyrical oddities still crept in...
Bug's got a job in the Catskills
Met some Fraulein along the way
Took her home, but then she had an episode
Though it did disturb him, he was strangely compelled
Hours isn't a classic Bowie album, but this track wouldn't have been out of place on Ziggy Stardust. The guitar certainly has a Mick Ronson flavour. And even though the title doesn't mention days, the chorus does...
I've got seven days to live my life Or seven ways to die...
Feeder were always a band I kind of half-liked (always loved the singles) but I never bought any of their albums. My newfound love of charity-shopping (inspired, in part, by Charity Chic's excellent blog) has increased my Feeder collection greatly. All for a quid a pop! And they say CDs are dead...
Anyway, this one was obviously made for the US market. It's not a spiky as many of their earlier tracks, but the chunky, Blink 182-esque guitars are fun.
Freddie had a typically flamboyant way of playing the piano, perfectly demonstrated on the intro to this John Deacon-written album track from the 1978 album Jazz. I've got a lot of time for John Deacon, he seems the only surviving Queen member to have kept his self-respect intact, refusing to get involved in any of the band's ridiculous post-Freddie shenanigans.
Taken from the soundtrack of the justly forgotten 1986 "comedy" Club Paradise starring Robin Williams, Peter O'Toole (who was nominated for a Razzie Award for Worst Supporting Actor) and Jimmy Cliff himself. Not sure how they roped Elvis in, but the song still works well. I reckon Elvis's voice was at its absolute best around the mid-late 80s and it blends well with Jimmy's here. I first heard this as a bonus track on the special edition one of my favourite Costello albums, Blood & Chocolate.
A cover of the old Northern Soul song by Chuck Wood from 1967... and Chuck's is a pretty damned good version... but I just love me the Dexys. This is from their first ever album, which will soon be 36 years old.
Such facts make me feel ancient and very, very tired. A good way to start the new year.
1. Animals That Swim - Seven Days
Animals That Swim were a curiously beguiling little band formed in the late 80s, though this is from their third (and final... to date) album from 2001. They remind me a lot of the quirky, literate, real life indie written by Stuart Murdoch (Belle & Sebastian) or Shirley Lee (Spearmint). This song tells of a life counted off in ten year birthdays, beginning with my favourite kind of lyrical detail...
On my tenth birthday I danced naked on the lawn Making rain fall from a red watering can. On my twentieth birthday Slumped in the corner Wearing Rhiannon's make up and pearls Clamouring 'Give me attention, please!'
And thus it continues till the narrator abruptly expires on his seventieth, followed by a pithy observation about certain special birthdays...
It seems every time It gets easier and easier to die.
What a cheerful start to 2016! I'll see you all in 7 days. Or 6. Or 8. Depending.
There are, of course, thousands of pop songs about love of money. They deserve, at least, a Top Ten of their own. There are also about a hundred different versions of this song, originally written and recorded by the mighty Barrett Strong back in 1959. But I love this version more than any other because it's truly unique... and because the video is like 1979 in a bottle.
Poor old Roddy, he didn't quite get it all. Although going from the video, he must have been about 12 when he recorded this, so he did pretty well for such a young 'un.
