As Half Man Half Biscuit reminded us on Friday, yesterday was Record Store Day. And so, to celebrate, rather than taking out a second mortgage (the first one's bad enough), I dug out 15 songs about record companies. They're rarely complementary...
15. Soft focus.
I know, I know, these guys only featured here a couple of weeks back, but I couldn't not include this...
Richard Herring's question of the week, from his excellent book Emergency Questions...
What's the best museum you've ever been to?
Rich's answer to this is the Keswick Pencil Museum, which I have to say takes some beating. He's probably being sarcastic, although maybe not, because I'm sure he appreciates a good pencil like the rest of us. Having been there myself, I can highly recommend it.
The photo at the top of the page was taken in the Weston Park Museum in Sheffield, which was probably the first museum we ever took Sam to... but we still enjoy visiting it today. The woolly rhino is worth the price of admission on its own... or it would be, if admission wasn't free.
A more local museum that we still pop into from time to time, even though it'll only kill half an hour or so is the Tolson Musuem in Ravensknowle Hall, Huddersfield. There are a few old cars, an old trolleybus and... best of all, a horse that has been cut in half to reveal its skeleton. From one side, it's a horse, from the other... brrr!
The South Yorkshire Aircraft Museum has also become a regular summer stop for Sam and I. An excellent collection of old planes and helicopters, some that you can sit in and pretend you're a pilot.
I like a museum that allows you to step back in time and see the world as it was in days gone by. One of the best of these is Ryedale Folk Museum in North Yorkshire; it's like wandering around an old village and you can go into the old shops, farm buildings and cottages and really feel like you've gone back in time.
Finally, there's the National Science and Media Museum in Bradford - formerly known (back when I worked in the city) as the National Museum of Photography, Film and Television. They have lots of ever-changing interactive exhibits, but the best thing is the Hall of Mirrors. They were closed last year for extensive renovation, so I'm looking forward to seeing what's new in the summer holidays.
Having listed some of the best museums Sam and I have visited over the years, I still haven't answer Richard Herring's question. My favourite museum? Well, it'd have to be this one...
Do you know the history of the trench coat? What it represents and who it's for? What I want to know is who would want a coat So close to the floor? I went to the Trench Coat Museum to see 'em A thousand different cuts Like pelts from another dream Stuffed and bursting at the seams Cause I'm fishing for a theme If it's somewhere in between A day's honest graft and constantly fleeing the crime scene...
It was rather a wet Half Term, so Sam and I went to the cinema twice. The first film, John Krasinski's If, I would recommend to anyone. It's one of the best kids films I've seen in a long time, up there with the inestimable Paddington 2 as a fun family movie with real heart. And I say that as someone with a very low tolerance for schmaltz.
And then we saw Garfield, which was a bag of shite.
I like Garfield. But this movie was only a Garfield film for the first 20 minutes, then it became a Chris Pratt / Samuel L. Jackson buddy movie... only not even as interesting as that might sound. Garfield was there on the screen, but there was very little Garfield. If that makes sense.
Anyway, about halfway through the movie, I noticed a mum a few rows in front of us with two young daughters. I'd seen them arrive (late) and then watched the mum leave the girls to go fetch popcorn. The older girl (who I reckon was still a few years younger than Sam) was clearly even less enamoured with the movie than I was. So Mum gave her a mobile phone and she sat watching Tiktok videos, hypnotised, her instant-gratification-dopamine-fix sated till the credits rolled.
I clearly remember the first time I walked into a classroom as a trainee teacher. It was an adult Functional Skills English workshop, and all the students were quietly getting on with a variety of tasks in groups. It wasn't at all what I'd expected, and when the teacher I'd come to shadow said to me, "just go round the groups and see if anyone needs any help", I was suddenly terrified.
Just... walk up to complete strangers who didn't know me from Adam - many of whom were older than me, and of a variety of different ethnicities - introduce myself and offer them help? I'd prepared myself for standing at the front of a class and delivering a lesson to a group of teenagers. I had lots of experience in performance and presentation and making myself heard or noticed... but a quiet, casual chat with a gentle offer of assistance to grown-ups... that was well outside my comfort zone.
Those of you who have been following this series from the start will know that we've identified the main culprit of our stress, anxiety and other mental health concerns... the amygdala or monkey brain. To recap...
Whenever the amygdala senses any kind of threat – from a bus about to run us over in the street to somebody gossiping about us behind our back in the office – it sets off our spider-sense, various hormonal and neurological warning signals that in turn cause us to feel the symptoms of stress. These will vary depending on the individual and the situation, but they include all the old favourites – physical stuff such as increased heart rate, changes to breathing, hot or cold sweat, and mental reactions such as fear, anger and shame. Stress hormones basically prepare us to fight the threat or flee from the danger: fight or flight. But they often override our normal, logical human brain, and let our monkey brain take over.
The problem comes in the modern world, where the monkey brain finds it increasingly difficult to work out what's an actual threat to life... and what's merely a difficult problem to be overcome. So it looks to us for understanding... and we don't help ourselves by playing it safe.
In theory, any new experience contains danger. Meeting new people, starting a new job, going out on a first date, trying a new hobby or club... life would be so much easier if we just stuck with the stuff we know and are comfortable with. Anything new - well, we don't know how to deal with it or what problems we might encounter along the way. And that's scary.
Writing this particular blog series is a bit like that. Every time I sit down to do it, I'm forcing myself out of my comfort zone. I'm not really an expert on this subject, I'm just fumbling my way through. It would be so much easier when I open up my computer to just cobble together another edition of Saturday Snapshots or Namesakes. I know how to do those now. They might take time and research and a bit of head-scratching, but they're familiar and comforting and safe.
Or, I might put off writing the blog altogether and go watch some TV. Read a book (if only!). Watch some more music videos on youtube from bands I've never heard of.
New experience? !!Amygdala sends out warning signals!!
Result: I feel anxious.
Strategy? Play it safe.
Safety strategies are the things we all do to minimise risk or avoid tackling anything new. They include distracting ourselves with other (safe) activities or avoiding any situations that make us feel remotely uncomfortable.
However... whenever we do this, we tell the monkey that it was right - its perception of threat was bang on the money. As a result, it'll double its efforts to warn us about getting into that situation again.
If I stop writing this blog series because it's difficult and it makes me a little anxious, then next time I try, it'll be even harder.
If I avoid going out to a gig because there will be a lot of strange people there, and it'll be a late night, and I might not get home till after midnight... if I decide to stay at home instead and watch TV... then chances are, next time the opportunity arises, I probably won't even bother to buy tickets.
These are pretty mild examples, but I'm sure you can extrapolate them to cover more serious anxiety-causing situations in your own life. Playing it safe, avoiding problems or distracting ourselves from things that are worrying just confirms to our monkey brain that these things are threats to be avoided. It'll scream even louder next time.
Taken to an absolute extreme, this is where OCD comes from: you can't leave the house until you've completed these safety rituals. It's where alcohol and drug dependency starts: you feel less anxious when you have a drink. The monkey brain experts believe that even positive behaviour like exercise, meditation and structured relaxation techniques can be used as an escape strategy to help us avoid facing up to the things we fear... because when we do these things, we only confirm that the monkey was right to be afraid.
Back in the 90s, a former colleague of mine used to swear by a self-help book with that exact title... and I used to mock it as namby-pamby mumbo-jumbo. Yet from a brain science point of view, it seems like this is the best advice you can get. If we refuse to let our anxiety get the better of us - if we embrace the situation the monkey is screaming at us to avoid - and we do this repeatedly... then, we break down the cycle of anxiety and we teach the monkey that it's something we don't have to be afraid of.
Those early teaching experiences were really quite terrifying. I'd already pushed myself way out of my comfort zone by going back to university in my late 30s and retraining at something so different from anything I'd ever done before. I'd prepared myself for all kinds of problems and scenarios and figured out ways I might deal with them... but a workshop of adult learners, something that should have been far less scary than standing in front of a class of 17 year olds... that was almost my downfall. I came out of that first shadowing session and seriously asked myself if I'd made the right decision. Maybe teaching wasn't the right choice for me. Except it was too late to drop out now... and what else could I do?
The following week, I went back to the same class and was put in the same situation again. And it wasn't immediately easier. It took me a good few weeks before I worked out how to handle myself there, but eventually I did... and my anxiety subsided. Because I'd taught my monkey brain that it was OK. It wasn't something to be afraid of.
In her book, Don't Feed The Monkey Mind, Dr. Jennifer Shannon explains...
The monkey mind is like a small child or a pet watching you for guidance. I emphasize the word "watch". You cannot tell this part of your brain anything. The monkey can't be reasoned with, comforted, or distracted from its mission. The only way we can get what we want in live is to override its warnings with our behaviour.
Stop playing it safe, in other words. Playing it safe only reinforces our fears.
It's 10 years since I last did a Top Ten Weather Forecast Songs, and although I did re-use a couple of the tracks from that old list this weekend, I also skipped some of the more obvious selections, including The Weather Girls, ELO, and... of course... this...
Every week I try to include a mix of well-known artists alongside artists that have never featured here before... otherwise, you guys get them all immediately, and where's the fun in that? Hence why I always call it "A Top Ten..." rather than "My Top Ten...", since chances are, I might include a track or artist I don't really care for. Although even the ones I might not choose to listen to in my own time uusally spark a brief nostalgic smile. Even the worst bits of the pop past look better from a distance.
Anyway, with thanks to C for suggesting it, here are ten songs about weather forecasting...
The National Centre for Popular Music, Sheffield's own pop museum, opened in late 1999... and closed a little over a year later. Maybe we're not as obsessed with pop music in this country as we think we are... or maybe the ticket prices were a bit too high.
The very fancy building, complete with rotating "drums" on the roof... is now the Student's Union for Sheffield Hallam University. And the drums don't rotate any more. Who says pop is dead?
Anyway, here are ten songs that surely should be museum pieces...
Stranded there I dreamed a dream Where I hold the key to the key museum, where Opportunity knocks but I fail to progress ‘Cos I’m wasted with passions I don’t have the courage to express
In which Mark imagines his fame to be great enough to deserve a museum of his own. And what will you put in your museum, Mark?
That's me on guitar, Steve Howe-style I'm in the seventh grade, listening to The Yes Album I love you, Steve Howe, you inspired me Like how hopefully I'll inspire others I got a Gibson ES-175 Sunburst just like yours, down to the very year Actually that's not true, it's a '66, I wish it was a '64 One day, I hope it will be hanging in the Mark Kozelek Museum And maybe that crystal that I took from Jim Morrisson's chandelier Maybe postcards sent to my father from around the globe I just gotta find a spot near my home Or my other homes far away from home Maybe Sweden, cause I believe I lived there in another life Maybe further up northern California Because my happiest memories were fishing up the coast Maybe my birthplace, Massillon, Ohio, because that's where it all began I don't know, but my guess is right here in San Francisco If my legacy can afford it
I wanted rock 'n roll, I got a science museum So we stayed up, and we argued all night If we can't change the world Let's at least get the charts right The record buying public shouldn't be voting
Art Brut vs. Satan... but Eddie's spirited defence of pop music probably belongs in a museum too these days.
Sinatra singing Gershwin, on the other hand, will never lose its charm.
1. Tiny Ruins - Me At The Museum, You At The Winter Gardens
You could almost believe this song had been written about Sheffield's ill-fated pop music museum, since the city's Winter Gardens are just a short walk away. Unfortunately, they weren't opened until three years after the museum closed down. Which would put a strain on any crosstown relationship.
Also, Tiny Ruins are from New Zealand, so they're probably singing about a completely different museum / winter gardens combo.
The opening track to the new Okkervil River album does exactly what it says on the tin. It's a song about famous people who've had tracheotomies. No, wait, it's a hell of a lot better than that sounds!
No, Aretha never had a tracheotomy. However...
Mary Wells, she was known as Motown's Queen
But laryngeal cancer left her unable to sing
They tried radiation, multiple surgeries
But she didn't have insurance and lost almost everything
Poor thing
But Diana Ross helped with her bills
Aretha Franklin tried her very best to help out Mary Wells
The SLFs claim to have been betrayed by Rough Trade lies...
We quit our jobs and got all set to fly Your promises had us riding high But it's a dirty rough tough trade we find "Yeah we agreed, but you hadn't signed Sorry, son, gonna have to throw you Our lawyers say we don't even know you" Music is money, kids are no-account fools You trade in us, we get betrayed by you
Meanwhile, Graham Parker remains "the best kept secret in the West" because of his own lacklustre record company...
The geriatric staff think we're freaks They couldn't sell kebabs to the Greeks, the geeks! Inaction speaks, and I've got Mercury poisoning - it's fatal and it don't get better!
From back in the days when record companies handed out free money just for a signature on the dotted line... and some fools tried to take advantage of that.
Nigel Blackwell gently pokes fun at the most indie of record companies and its roster of bizarrely named bands.
I dream of occasional fanzine mentions I’ve been to one too many David Lynch Conventions I play postal chess with a man who doesn’t know me I’ve got a better frown than Tony Iommi And I’ve got a 4AD3DCD A 4AD3DCD A 4AD3DCD And I’m on a foundation course
A warning to all prospective rock stars about the dangers of going downtown and selling your soul to the company man when all they want to do is "sell plastic ware".
The outrageously rebellious image of the Sex Pistols seems now like yobbish posturing steered to success by the machiavellian mind of Malcolm McClaren. How seriously could anyone take the world's most famous punk once he started selling dairy products? At the time though, it was utterly (butterly) believable and the final track on Never Mind The Bollocks... was a giant one-fingered salute to their former record company that helped make Richard Branson more The Man than anyone at EMI.
We write what we live and we live what we write, is that wrong? If you think it is Mr Music Executive why don't you write your own songs? And don't listen to mine, they might run you crazy They might make you dwell on your feelings a moment too long We're making you rich and you're already lazy So just lay on your ass and get richer or write your own songs.
They said we'd be artistically free When we signed that bit of paper They meant let's make a lotta money And worry about it later
A smarter and more credible record company protest song than the Sex Pistols could ever have managed. The Clash were true punks, even when they went reggae.
I wish I'd been aware of this song back when I was writing my Rebel DJ versus Evil Corporate Entertainment Company comic, The Jock. I could have put lyrics like this to excellent use...
This is Joe Public speaking I'm controlled in the body, controlled in the mind
A promising rock 'n' roll career implodes, perhaps because "Their A&R man said 'I don't hear a single"... or perhaps because the temptations of rock star excess prove too much. A young Johnny Depp plays Eddie Rebel in the video, the "rebel without a clue" whose luck turns bad when he turns his back on his manager, Faye Dunaway. Stick around for a cameo from a pre-Friends Matt LeBlanc in the song's closing moments...
1. The Smiths - Paint A Vulgar Picture
You don't get a more caustic assessment of the "sickening greed" of the "sycophantic slags" who work for The Man... although there's a certain irony now hearing Morrissey deride the culture of "Re-issue! Repackage! Repackage! Re-evaluate the songs...", not to mention "Best of! Most of! Slip them into different sleeves!" Still, he's yet to give away a tacky badge. It was a very different business back then though, wasn't it?
See also Frankly, Mr. Shankly which was Moz taking poisonous aim at Geoff Travis, head of Rough Trade, a man who (apparently) wrote some truly awful poetry...
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