Here are some more tips from popular musicians about how to change your life for the better... starting with a band who chose Self Improvement as a way of life...
Welcome to the penultimate edition of the Cancel Culture Club. Yes, the steam's running out of this feature, but I like the idea of doing a Top Ten before calling it quits. Plus, I promised Ernie we'd find room for one of his favourites.
Meanwhile, we come to Lola. One of the biggest, most-loved hits by arguably Britain's best band of the 60s. Who in their right mind could possibly consider this classic pop song worthy of cancelling?
Step forward, honorary Cancel Culture Club member Richard Melville Hall, aka Moby, who last month decided that every copy of Lola should be burned in a big bonfire outside J.K. Rowling's mansion.
Here he is speaking the Grauniad, who probably cherished this quote and sent Moby a medal for his Services To Pseudo-Woke...
Lola by the Kinks came up on a Spotify playlist, and I thought the lyrics were gross and transphobic. I like their early music, but I was really taken aback at how unevolved the lyrics are.
OK, with the cat now firmly ensconced amid the pigeons, I wonder what the original CCC Committee members think about this matter? JC, The Vinyl Villain - care to offer your thoughts?
As long as I get to use the cliché ‘Moby’s a Dick’…
And to be honest, if that was the only response Moby's rant had elicited, I'd have been pretty content to leave it at that. But JC wasn't alone in his opprobrium. Here's the aforementioned Secret Agent and Alan Wicker replacement, Ernie from 27 Leggies..
Can we cancel Moby for being a pillock and, according to Natalie Portman, a bit of a creepy perv?
Do I need to add the word "allegedly" to that? Just to be on the safe side?
Blur - Girls & Boys
All very good, of course, but none of this is getting us any closer to considering the issue at hand - is Lola transphobic? SWC from No Badger Required...?
I do as it happens, have a very good story about Lola by the Kinks.....
Well, I do hope you'll share that with us one day, SWC, perhaps on your own blog in between all the other top notch features (currently a reader-generated list of the world's most underappreciated bands, of which my own entry will stick out like a sore thumb).
Here's C of Sun-Dried Sparrows fame to finally address the gender-swapping elephant in the room...
Unlike Moby, I just can't get worked up about 'Lola'. I interpret it as being positive, inclusive and, given the year of its release, really quite brave to tackle its subject at all, especially in such an unprejudiced way. I hear no negative connotations at all - in fact, quite the opposite: trans woman Lola gets pride of place, whilst the song's male narrator is self-deprecating and candid about his own naiveté.
That's how I've always interpreted it, C - and as always, you are able to express that in a far more precise and succinct way than I could have managed. And although songwriter Ray Davies remained silent on Moby's comments, his brother Dave was less reluctant to wade in...
“I am highly insulted that Moby would accuse my brother of being ‘unevolved’ or transphobic in any way.”
Dave goes on to explain how the song had support back in the 70s from San Francisco band The Cockettes, which included transgender members.
“We appreciated them. Why is Moby being so rude about this simple song? We’re not transphobic. Why does he have to have a go at us?”
Furthermore, Dave shared a letter from Dallas-born trans-punk singer Jayne County who admitted to being “thrilled and amazed” by Lola...
“Lola will always be one of those songs that for me ‘broke the ice’ so to speak! A song that breaks down barriers and brings a used to be, hush, hush subject to the forefront and makes it sound perfectly natural to be singing a song about a ‘girl’ named Lola!”
All of which sounds pretty conclusive to me, but it does open up a wider issue, which - once again - I'll let C put into words far better than mine...
What concerns me more instead is if there becomes an increasing trend of jumping on the 'woke' bandwagon without actually thinking something through and fully examining why, and Moby's outcry about these lyrics strikes me as a perfect example of that - a knee jerk response. There's only one jerk here as far as I can see, though, and it's not Ray Davies.
When I was initially putting together a list of songs for the Cancel Culture Club to tackle, I never considered Lola... until I asked Professor Google and found a number of people online who held the same opinion as Moby... and it wasn't just Lola that raised their hackles. No, there's also a lot of grumbling about this little beauty...
Holly came from Miami, F.L.A.
Hitch-hiked her way across the U.S.A.
Plucked her eyebrows on the way
Shaved her legs and then he was a she
She says, "Hey babe, take a walk on the wild side"
And because I figured that tune might well come up today, I mentioned it to the rest of the committee. Here's Walter from A Few Good Times In My Life with his thoughts on both tunes...
In both The Kinks’ song and “Walk on the Wild Side”, the lyrics are taken out of their original context. I can’t detect any homophobia or disrespect toward gender identity in either of them. What they have in common is that, in their lyrics, they tackled topics that were still considered taboo more than 60 years ago.
I don’t think anyone should have the right to judge a historical phenomenon in hindsight. If such texts are no longer used today, that’s fine. But they shouldn’t be criticized in hindsight or from a narrow perspective. In that sense, “cancelling” them is not appropriate.
Thank you, Walter. I think one thing we've agreed upon (with a couple of exceptions), through the duration of this feature, is that "cancelling" isn't appropriate in most circumstances. Maybe that's why we need to Cancel the Cancel Culture Club. Otherwise, we're just encouraging the likes of over-sensitive bandwagon-jumpers like Moby.
Our final response today comes from Swiss Adam, the man in charge of the Bagging Area...
Moby is, not for the first time, wrong.
I've always heard Lola as being totally sympathetic to Lola and to trans people. In fact Ray concludes by saying 'it's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world / Except for Lola'. In the song, Lola is the least messed up and most sorted person. Lola knows exactly who she is.
Walk On The Wild Side is a work of genius, a song by Lou Reed at his post-Velvets best and who was living at the time he wrote it (and for the rest of the decade) with Rachel, a trans woman. Lou is celebrating Holly, Candy, Little Joe, the Sugar Plum Fairy and Jackie and all the other mixed up, shook up people who lived in his downtown New York world. His use of the word coloured is dated but we're going to have to let that go, I think.
Yeah, but at that time, "coloured" was considered the less-offensive terminology, wasn't it? Which links very nicely to what Walter says above.
I'm saving Adam's final line to close this post with... but first, a confession.
I had hoped to get an expert, first-hand opinion on today's issue, so I sent an email to an old friend who has become a leading figure in the transgender community. I felt a little cheeky in doing so, but I also felt like I'd regret it if I didn't ask her opinion on the matter.
Sadly, my email received no reply. There could be any number of reasons for this, but now I'm wracked with guilt in case I've caused offence. This is someone who often speaks about her own journey, and who is considered a champion of the transgender community... but there's a difference between being approached for comment by the press, and getting a personal email from an old colleague. Because I didn't want to follow that email up and worsen any potential offence I might have caused, I'd like to apologise here for it, just in case. My intent was honourable, in my mind at least.
But this did make me think... just because Jayne County and other members of the LGBTQ+ community have leapt to Lola's defence, we can't take it as read that every trans person feels the same. As the Cancel Culture Club has proved, our responses to art can vary, and there's no such thing as a "wrong" opinion, if you can justify it. I find Forrest Gump a deeply offensive film, for example, while other people think it's just a bit of light entertainment with a cheery moral. Am I wrong or are they? Or are we both just responding to a text in our own ways? I guess what I'm saying is, if a trans person does find Lola objectionable, who am I to say they're wrong? They've got more right to their opinion than I have to cast aspersions on Gump.
Against Me! - Transgender Dysphoria Blues
Still, I do think it comes down to intent versus interpretation. Going back to Moby's initial objection - is Lola... or Walk On The Wild Side, for that matter... actually transphobic? It may be possible to interpret either song in that way, but that surely wasn't the intent of either songwriter. One might infer an offensive meaning, but it doesn't appear either songwriter meant to imply that interpretation.
Or, as Swiss Adam puts it...
If Lou Reed and Ray Davies are on the wrong side of this debate, then I'm not sure where the debate has gone.
Kylie Minogue featured in Saturday's quiz with the obvious selection of Kylie's Got A Crush On Us by BMX Bandits. I've probably confessed before to the fact that I bought Kylie's debut single back in 1988 even though I knew it wasn't very good. I was 16, Neighbours was on the TV every night when I got home from school, and Kylie was cool... even despite the insipid Stock Aitken Waterman production. I still think she's cool now - and should be praised for her longevity (Christmas Number One last year!).
Anyway, BMX Bandits wasn't my only choice for songs honouring Ms. Minogue. I could also have gone with this...
Another female pop diva whose records I obsessed over as a teen was Whitney. I'd still rate her second album as a pure pop classic. Then again, I've always been pretty insecure about voicing such things...
Janet Jackson, meanwhile, may be tainted by her brother's reputation... and that "shocking" incident at the Superbowl which got her cancelled for a time, while Justin Timberlake's reputation only soared. Sexist hypocrisy?
But it's back to the pop stars of our youth to close... and here's another lady who's it always been OK to admit to liking. My cool points remain intact.
It’s forty years to the day since the Challenger Space
Shuttle exploded 73 seconds into its flight, killing all seven crew members.
Among that crew was Sharon Christa McAuliffe, the first
teacher to fly into space. She was shortlisted from more than 11,000
applicants… also on that shortlist was singer-songwriter John Denver, who got
as far as the NASA induction programme. When Denver saw what happened on January
28, 1986, he was inspired to write this tribute…
Well, I guess that you probably know by now I was one who wanted to fly I wanted to ride on that arrow of fire right up into heaven And I wanted to go for every man Every child, every mother of children
I wanted to carry the dreams of all people right up to the
stars They were flying for me They were flying for everyone They were trying to see a brighter day for each and everyone They gave us their light They gave us their spirit and all they could be They were flying for me They were flying for me
Although he survived the Challenger disaster, John Denver
died 11 years later when his own home-built light aircraft crashed into Monterey
Bay, California.
Denver isn’t the only songwriter to have been affected by
what happened to Challenger. Frank Turner was only four years old in 1986, but
seeing the accident on TV had a profound effect on him. Many years later, he
would imagine hearing Christa McAuliffe’s final broadcast (there is speculation
that the crew didn’t die when the explosion happened on board the spaceship,
only when it crashed into the sea) over the ham radio he’d played around with
as a kid. A “silent key” is the term used by amateur radio enthusiasts to refer
to deceased radio operators.
This is one of my favourite Frank Turner tunes. The more I
listen to it, the more it breaks my heart.
On the 28th of January 1986 Christa McAuliffe gazed in horror as the O-rings failed And she died, and she died, and she died For the next agonising two minutes and forty-five long
seconds She called out the truth on a broken radio: "I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive" It came as some surprise to realise that as she lost
everything The world was revealed in a transmission so real that she
understood everything: You're still alive, you're still alive
Three more records that rotated frequently on the imaginary turntable of my soul during the past twelve months...
21. Mercury Rev - Born Horses
"Spiritually, literally, psycho-geographically: where else does Mercury Rev's ninth album Born Horses spring from? This cascade of gleaming, glistening psych-jazz-folk-baroque-ambient quest that searches its soul but can never truly know the answer? A sound and vision linked to their exalted past whilst quite unlike anything they have created before? The answer is somewhere between the homes of founder members Jonathan Donahue (the hamlet of Mt Tremper) and Grasshopper (the town of Kingston), in their veins and brains of their now-legendary tapping of musical cosmology, and the vital presence of new permanent member Marion Genser (keys), plus long-term ally Jesse Chandler (keys) and guests Jeff Lipstein (drums), Martin Keith (double bass) and Jim Burgess (trumpet)."
Normally, I'd call bullshit on that kind of florid press-release gumphery, but there's actually something in it.
Three things I can tell you for definite about the latest Mercury Rev record.
1) If such a thing is possible, it's even more shimmery than anything else they've recorded in the past 35 years.
2) Jonathan's preferred delivery these days is a low, spoken, stream-of-consciousness blather. He sounds like an older, less camp version of 80s American stand-up comic Emo Phillips. Remember him?
3) It's very nice to listen to when you're stuck in traffic on the M1.
My mood swings and it swings and it swings Sometimes even without asking me Suddenly reminding me of deep down things The way my mother would sing over my father's mood swings How swiftly she could go from humming "Just the way, the way you are" To whistling, "Oh, the people you know" This immense loneliness flapping in her chest Like lady day, she knew why the caged bird sings And now, so do I, it sings and it sings Because each night it hurts just a little less Reminding me more and more and more Of deep down things And the way my own mood swings
20. Frank Turner - Undefeated
Frank Turner's last album, FTHC, was my second favourite record of 2022, beaten only by the might of Half Man Half Biscuit. Undefeated treads much the same ground as its predecessor... at times, a little too closely. It feels too conscious an effort to capture that same lightning in that same bottle, and ends up being, in places, FT-by numbers. Still full of great songs and lyrics that bring a wry smile of recognition... but no risks are taken in the process.
I'm fully aware that this contradicts everything I said yesterday in my reviews of the Eels and Pixies records... but hey, Frank, you placed above both those guys, so you must still be doing something right.
Fifteen-year-old Francis We need to have a word I know because I remember That you cannot stand The Verve But Richard Ashcroft had a point Now I'm old enough to see There's a million different people You will be before you're me
I know I'm not Everything that you had hoped and imagined that I would be But I did my best And I have seen things that you don't even know that you've never seen We need to find some common ground In the ruins that still stand Between you and me both of us want peace Ceasefire
19. Crawlers - The Mess We Seem To Make
The first CD I bought in 2024 was the debut album by Warrington's Crawlers. It seems so long ago now, like it should belong to last year's batch. Fiercely confessional lyrics from lead singer Holly Minto, and a pop-rock sound that's a little more polished than some of their contemporaries. The deluxe CD contains acoustic versions of some of the tracks, and I like those even more than the originals.
I'm writing this because it's the only way I can talk to you now, and I really wanted to tell you that I found out something that puzzled us for years! I know who killed Joey Salvo.
Maybe you'll never read this - I don't know if I believe in any kind of afterlife that allows you to watch over those you've left behind... I mean, I want to, because it'd make you being gone (and one day, me being gone) so much easier to deal with... but it could just be one of the great white lies we tell ourselves to make the futility of existence not as futile as it might otherwise seem. And I mean, even if you are looking down on me, or just checking in occasionally to make sure I'm not messing up completely, the chances of you reading my blog - any blog! - are pretty much zilch. Did you ever even look at the internet? I think maybe you watched the occasional tractor video on youtube if someone found it and started it playing for you. As someone born in 1929, you didn't quite get the appeal of all this new fangled technology... and I'm not sure you were wrong.
Likewise, I'm not sure you ever read anything I wrote... but then again, I never showed you anything. For years, I always thought, "when I get something published, then I'll show it to Mum and Dad," but that never happened, did it? I knew you'd have been proud... but you were proud of me anyway. You never told me what to do or what not to do, you let me find my own way, and I always appreciated that. When I got my A Levels and told you I wanted to pack in education and go work in a radio station for peanuts, you never told me I was wasting my life. Then when I found a way to keep doing that and go back to Uni, I know it pleased you, and I could tell how proud you were the day I graduated. The writing was the same - all those hours I spent up in my room at the old typewriter, word processor, computer... a lot of parents would have been up knocking on the door telling me to get out and get a life. But if I was happy doing what I was doing, that was enough for you. I knew you were always there for me when I needed you, and you'd have done anything for me - when I called you from Bradford at 2am to say my first car had broken down and I couldn't get home from work, you got out of bed, drove 45 minutes in the middle of the night and towed me home. No complaints. That was just what Dads were for. I know I thanked you, but I'm not sure I ever thanked you enough.
None of that is why I'm writing to you today though. No, I'm writing about NYPD Blue. Remember how that was always our favourite TV show? We didn't connect on a lot of popular culture - you never cared for Marvel or Star Wars and certainly not pop music, though you would always watch Die Hard when it showed at Christmas, and that made me happy. NYPD Blue though, that was the one thing we really agreed on. I don't think we ever watched it together, because in my early 20s when the show started, I was either out at work or I watched the little portable TV up in my room. (Plus there were quite a few racy bits in that show, and who wants to watch TV sex scenes with their parents?)
I can remember the odd occasion we'd be watching it live "together" (me upstairs, you down) and I could hear you laughing from the living room at some sarcastic remark Andy Sipowicz made to a skell, or the little sly glances between characters that spoke volumes and made us both crack up. We both loved Dennis Franz who played Andy, a wonderful example of a flawed hero. When the show started, Detective Sipowicz was a cranky, alcoholic bigot. Over the course of the next twelve years, he suffered more adversity than any fictional character deserved - including losing his son, his wife and his best friend - but he also went through a redemptive arc that I believe is unparalleled in popular fiction.
It took us both a while to follow Andy's story through to the end as Channel 4 inexplicably stopped showing NYPD Blue sometime in the late 90s. The final seasons eventually cropped up on More4 when that channel launched in 2005 and I know you stayed up late to watch it every weeknight, while I had to catch up on video when I wasn't at work. We'd still chat about it when I saw you at the weekend - how about when Andy said such and such? The look he gave another character across the crowded squad room. It's weird the things that bond a father and son, but even now when I watch the show on Disney+, it makes me think of you. And when it makes me laugh, I want to share that with you like I did back then.
All of which brings me to Joey Salvo. I'm sure you remember, Dad, at the end of Season 4, there was a pretty big cliffhanger. Andy's partner, Bobby Simone (played by the always excellent Jimmy Smits) had been caught up in a sting operation involving the FBI and Internal Affairs. A gangster called Joey Salvo, who Bobby knew from his past, had a mole in the police department, and the various agencies were using Bobby as a pawn to expose the leak. Bobby ended up suspended and his career was on the line, but still nobody could prove the identity of Salvo's informant. The season ended with Bobby meeting Salvo on a street corner in a last ditch effort to uncover the mole... and then, out of nowhere, shots were fired and Salvo was killed. A few seconds later, a car screeched up and it was Andy, Bobby's partner, asking if he was OK. Did Andy shoot Salvo to get Bobby out of an impossible situation? That was certainly the inference... but would Andy really do that? His character walked a thin line a lot of the time, he was immensely loyal to his partner and had no time for the FBI or the Rat Squad... but would he really resort to murder? It seemed unlikely to both of us, Dad, but we were going to have to wait till the next series to find out...
Except, when Season 5 began the following year, something really odd happened. You saw it first and I remember you coming to me and saying how it'd all started up again without any mention of the cliffhanger. Bobby was back in his job, the FBI and Internal Affairs weren't present, nobody even mentioned Joey Salvo. It didn't make any sense. It was like we'd both missed an episode... and clearly that's exactly what happened, though I still find it hard to believe, because back then we both checked the TV Times religiously to see when our favourite show was back on air. Part of me wonders if Channel 4 ditched the opening episode because they didn't consider all the back-story would make for a good jumping on point for new viewers. I wouldn't put anything past them - they didn't treat NYPD Blue fans with a great deal of respect during the time they were airing the show.
Anyway, Dad, the point of all this is that I finally got to watch the episode we never saw. And I can tell you that Joey Salvo was shot by the head of Internal Affairs - he was the mole! He was caught after trying to shoot Andy and he eventually confessed to everything. Neither you nor I thought Andy was the shooter, but there was always an unresolved question mark... and I wish you were still here so I could tell you what happened or show you the episode we missed. I only hope that somehow via some kind of unknown magic of the universe that science doesn't yet understand, somehow you can read what I've written today and know that I love you and I miss you and that Andy Sipowicz is still our hero.
But just to broaden John's horizons a little, I thought I'd offer this one instead...
Squeeze appear to have stumbled into a Robert Palmer video there. Isn't it glorious? I'm also impressed that the subtitles tell me that "jazzy music plays" before the singing starts. I'm sure that'll make Messrs Tifford and Dilbrook's day.
And if that wasn't enough for you, here's a couple of alternative takes on that song...
One of the reasons I can't watch shows like Strictly or the X-Factor or any kind of talent-based performance TV is that I can't bear all the cheering. It sets my nerves on edge even when I hear it from the other room (which is where I'm usually consigned to when Louise and/or Sam is watching such fluffle). Particularly when I hear a cheering audience on a TV show, it all sounds so false. I picture some guy stood at the side of the stage holding up a "Cheer Now!" sign because the cheering never sounds sincere or spontaneous... it sounds like a performance in its own right.
It's the same thing at gigs. I've got no problem with applause - I'll stand up and clap with the best of them. But I never feel the urge to cheer... and I'd certainly never entertain the bastard son of the cheer: the whoop. But this does make me wonder... am I not enjoying the gig as much as the people who have to vocalise it in such fashion? Are their uncontrollable outbursts a sign that they're engaging with this experience on a much deeper level than I am? Is there something wrong with me?
...although that is up there as one of my all-time favourite theme tunes, from one of my all-time favourite TV shows. It makes me feel warm inside whenever I hear it. But this, while also being very good, has nothing to do with that...
We've heard from doctors and scientists and all manner of self-help experts over the past few weeks on this feature, but as it was half term last week and I was taking it easy (if only!), I figured we might listen to a couple of experts from the world of rock n roll for a change.
Let's start with a recommendation from Charity Chic, on whose advice I tracked down a copy of Steve Forbert's 1992 album, The American In Me. (I think it was CC who pointed me in Steve's direction, but I could be misremembering.) I was only really familiar with Mr. Forbert from his 1979 US hit Romeo's Tune, back when he was still a whipper-snapper, so it was nice to hear some of his later work. Perhaps his biggest claim to fame is that he played the part of Cyndi Lauper's boyfriend in the video to Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. That's him, turning up at the end, holding a bunch of flowers and trying to make himself heard over the racket...
Here's a song of Steve's that certainly struck a chord with me...
You've got a lotta detail in your life, of late you find Hey, now that you got kids, well, things loom larger in your mind You make your best decisions in the time that you're allowed And still get caught at Christmas in that final countdown crowd
It's always problems everywhere, you're juggling everyone You do your best each day but when the sun goes down it's done, it's done And then what slips through the cracks is just gonna go ahead and fall Don't let it keep you up nights when you know my friend You cannot win 'em all, oh no
Exterminator, lawyer, doctor, daycare, dental bill Hey, now that you're essential, have you made yourself a will? You gotta have insurance just to drive your car to work And wind up down in court with some bad actor, neck brace jerk
It's always problems everywhere, you're juggling everyone You do your best each day but when the sun goes down it's done, it's done And then what slips through the cracks is just gonna go ahead and fall Don't let it keep you up nights when you know my friend You cannot win 'em all, oh no
Can't no one stop that airport that they're building over there? Those planes won't hardly clear your trees and noise will fill the air So set your sights on silent nights and greener pastures still So much for your retirement dreams on Oakview Pleasant Hill
It's always problems everywhere, you're juggling everyone You do your best each day but when the sun goes down it's done, it's done And then what slips through the cracks is just gonna go ahead and fall Don't let it keep you up nights when you know my friend You cannot win 'em all, oh no, oh no
Wise words, mate, to quote famous DJ Dave Nice.
Frank Turner's got a new record out this year. After a few middling efforts, his previous album, FTHC, was one of the best he's yet delivered. It went to Number One in the album charts and appears to have given him a renewed sense of what's it all about. Here's some typically Turner-esque advice from the lead single of the new offering...
Some people are just going to hate you,
No matter what you do.
So don't waste your time trying to change their minds –
Just be a better you.
It took me years to learn this
(More than I’d like to admit)
But through my ups and downs I figured one thing out:
Don’t take anyone’s shit
I’m still standing up and there’s nothing you can do.
I’m still standing up.
Some people will search for your weaknesses –
They’ll go to any lengths.
But if you find them first you can take that hurt
And turn it into a strength.
And you’ll wonder why they’re so unkind,
And how they sleep at night,
But that simple fact means you’re better than that –
I think you’re going to be alright.
So which path to choose?
The one less travelled or the one more used?
All the sticks and stones, all the broken bones,
It’s not who you are it’s the things you choose to do.
Finally, my favourite band of the 21st Century are back, although I'm clearly the only person in the world who feels that way. Jeff Tweedy thinks there's a lot to be said for liking bands that nobody else likes (or have even heard of), but I still wish The Indelicates could get more than 79 views on the tube of you for a song as good as this. Also, in terms of defining post-20th Century middle-aged angst, I think "We're living in the wreckage of the bombs that never dropped" is as fine a chorus as you're going to hear this year.
I'm not sure Simon Indelicate has any self help advice to offer us, but it's good to know I'm not alone in feeling like this...
Well, I saw this thing that my nephew posted on Facebook
It said: "Scientists prove your life flashes before your eyes before you die"
I've hardly slept since I saw that on Facebook
I don't think I can stand the disappointment a second time
For as long as I've had a blog, I've filled most of December with a year end countdown of my favourite albums (and on my old blog, I used to do films, books, TV shows and comics too).
Since 2018, I've been doing a list as long as the final number in the year - 18 for 2018, 19 for 2019... last year, it was my Top 22 of 2022, but I think it's fair to say that the top four at least were all better records than anything I've heard this year.
That's not to say it's been a bad year for music. A lot of my favourite artists have put out new discs (or, in Kevin Morby's case, not bothered to put them on a disc at all, just plonked them on the interweb), but none of those records felt like they came from performers at the very top of their game. Unlike the ones I selected by Half Man Half Biscuit, Frank Turner, Craig Finn and American Aquarium this time last year.
I'm also frustrated by the fact that December is never the best time to decide your favourite albums of the past year, since you're still listening to half of them and haven't even heard a bunch more. A good example of this is that I just managed to squeeze the most recent First Aid Kit album into my Top Ten last year after only a few listens. I then continued to listen to it well into the summer, by which time my appreciation had rocketed - it's equally as good as any of the records mentioned above.
Anyway, the way I feel right now is that there's been a lot of great songs this year, but not as many great collections of songs. (This opinion may well have changed by next March.) Many of the old faithfuls delivered, but didn't quite scale previous heights. That doesn't bother me - I'm not one of those people who expects every record to be better than the last one. But I just didn't think I could subject you all to 23 reviews of 23 albums I liked, but didn't quite love. I managed to cobble together a Top Ten, just like in the old days (sometimes I have to remind myself what this blog is called), but the rest of the time between now and the end of the year, I'm just going so share some of my favourite songs. Like this one...
Spanish Love Songs - Lifers
Spanish Love Songs are one of those cool hipster bands that Ben likes and he's gradually been persuading me to do the same. I was particularly impressed with their song The Boy Considers His Hair Cut, which I featured on a Self-Loathing Friday just over a year ago. And their new album, No Joy... well, that's clearly a no-brainer. They remind me a little bit of Ezra Furman doing their best attempt at Springsteen, or (don't tell Ben) The Killers back when they were cool. And then the write lyrics like these...
It's the notion that your body is never gonna change
The baby fat that's hiding in your cheeks won't fade
And you're not sure why, but when you leave the house you circle the block to cry
And these...
So do you think that we'll outrun it?
Get past the pain of simply being?
Every time you want out of your body
Or can't get your head around this dream
You swore you loved it more
When you couldn't guess the end
It's never adding up
But don't write yourself out of the equation
Is 51 a good time to turn Emo?
Meanwhile, as I mentioned First Aid Kit above, I might as well throw this in to close today, a song in which they help out one of their recent tour-mates on backing vocals. Lola Kirke is a singer and actress (quite successful, it appears, though I can't claim to have seen anything she's been in). Born in London, raised in New York, yet she makes sparkly Americana that verges on good old fashioned Country & Western. George Strait, I'm sure, would approve of the song title below. Judging from the video though, Lola is probably spending time in Alcatraz for indecent exposure. Hopefully she'll be back out soon...
Lola Kirke feat. First Aid Kit - All My Exes Live In LA
Everything I know about Dr. Samuel Johnson, I learned from Blackadder. As an English teacher, I can say with some authority that it's really all you need to know. Except that he once wrote that, "when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life". And if that's the case, I know a hell of a lot of people who are fed up with living.
Over the last year, I have encountered a couple of fine songs that reference the first man in dictionary corner... so I was sure I'd be able to find some more with a little digging.
Meanwhile, today's finest discovery are called Tankus The Henge. Yes, they are.
Well there's old Dr. Johnson with a hole in his eye He don't know how to fight, but he knows how to die There's someone outside in the corridor now Pulls open the shutter, and takes a bow The window to the track is rivetted shut Poor old Dr .Johnson he ain't got much luck As the ticket inspector come along for the dead And sees the curves of a girl silhouetted instead
Now, when I extended my search to include Johnson's famous quote about London, all kind of things crawled out of the woodwork. All kinds of Dirty Pretty Things for a start...
How can they be tired of London? The scents in the air on a warm day Generation of hope that sees better days But moving along in the same old ways
The two artists I had in mind when I decided to feature Dr. Johnson here both mention him by name and reference his love of the capital... though they do seem to disagree with that quote somewhat.
Dr. Samuel Johnson You were very nearly right I was tired of London But I would never tire of life
That's not the album version, but a lovely live recording featuring Chris T-T on piano.
