Another conversation starter from Richard Herring's book Emergency Questions...
Which conspiracy theory do you think might actually be true?
Rich thinks Paul McCartney really was replaced by a lookalike in the late 60s. You may well agree with him, but I'd argue that the replacement was far more interesting in that case.
These days, conspiracy theories get rather a bad rep. I blame the internet and all the right-wing loonies who have ruined the good old conspiracy theory for everyone. I used to love a good conspiracy theory... nowadays, I'm more likely to keep that to myself in case people think I'm a Trump supporter.
But if I had to choose a conspiracy theory that I still feels needs further investigation... despite all the (redacted) files that have been released in the intervening years, I would go for the JFK assassination every time.
Look, I know the Oliver Stone movie was a bit dubious in places, but there were still far more questions than answers. Do I really believe Lee Harvey Oswald was a lone gunman? What about the shots from the grassy knoll? Why did Jack Ruby kill him before he could be properly interrogated?
Come on... the guy was a Patsy! Even the Manic Street Preachers think so...
What about you? Were the moon landings faked by Stanley Kubrick? What about the Roswell Incident? Was there something in David Icke's Lizard People rantings? Is the Illuminati controlling our every move? Go on, we're all friends here...
In my past two Self Help For Cynics posts, I've
looked at how the brain uses stories to build neural pathways. This can be a
positive thing in that it helps us learn knowledge, skills and how to survive…
but it can also be negative if the stories we use to learn end up reinforcing
bad habits, unpleasant ideas or defeatist emotions. Last time, I explained how a nasty
teenage experience had created neural pathways in my head that made me hate New
Order. However, just the act of writing about that experience has honestly
lessened the animosity I feel towards a band that’s never done me any harm.
There are two explanations for this. Firstly, understanding why we think the
way we do is the first step towards changing the way we think. (That’s the main
reason I’m writing this series.) Secondly, you can overwrite bad neural
pathways with good ones by replacing negative experiences (stories) with
positive ones. Here’s another example from my terrible teens…
Chumbawamba - Homophobia Was I a homophobic teenager? I grew up in the 1970s and 80s. Positive representations of gay people
in the media were limited to Larry Grayson and Mr. Humphries from Are You Being
Served? Camp, limp-wristed caricatures. In the pop world, we had the Village
People and then Boy George. Many less stereotypically gay stars like
Elton John and George Michael kept their secrets for a long time. Even
Freddie Mercury – one of my teenage pop heroes – refused to confirm his
sexuality, right up to the point he told us he was dying of AIDS. Tom Robinson
might have proclaimed himself glad to be gay in 1978, but I certainly didn’t
hear about it.
Far worse than the clichéd media portrayal of homosexuality was the strong
undercurrent of homophobia fostered by straight male society. “Backs against
the wall, lads”, “shirtlifters”, “poofters”… these were phrases I heard on a
weekly basis from my peers, my elders… even on TV. Add to this that the only
openly gay person in my school was a bitchy viper of a boy (probably a defence
mechanism, and I can hardly blame him for that)… well, you can see how my
storytelling brain was busy building negative neural pathways throughout my early
adolescence.
Pushed around and kicked around, always a lonely boy
You were the one that they'd talk about around town as they put you down
Things did start to change in the mid 80s, with more openly gay
celebrities, and alternative music and comedy which celebrated LGBT culture. It
was at this point when I finally started to question the prejudice I’d been a
part of in my early years of high school. But it wasn’t till I started working
in radio, at 16, that the stories in my brain were completely rewritten. At the
radio station I worked at, there were a lot of openly gay men. And as I got
to know them, I liked them. Often more than I liked some of my more hetero,
alpha male type colleagues. Some became lifelong friends and so my storytelling
brain was forced to write new, stronger neural pathways that cancelled out my
old prejudicial ones.
Spearmint - Your New Gay Friend All this just reinforces the value of positive representation in the
media, in my mind at least. The anti-woke brigade rail against the fact that
every TV show these days has to feature a variety of sexualities, skin colours,
genders and differently-abled individuals. But only through frequent exposure
to people who are not the same as ourselves will our brains stop fearing these
unknown beings who are actually just like us, for good and bad. This all seems
a bit obvious to me, to the point where I’m not sure I needed to write it…
certainly not for the open-minded folk who read this blog. I’m preaching to the
converted.
Those that are harder to convert – the ones who turn off their TVs
whenever they see a gay kiss, for example – maybe they’re beyond help. And
there are certainly plenty of storytelling options available to them
(particularly online) which feed and reinforce their own negative neural
pathways. We’re a long way from a utopia.
As to the Audi drivers… I keep hoping one day I’ll have a positive
experience that allows me to rewrite the neural pathway prejudice I feel
towards them. They can’t all be bad…?
Oh no! I tried to find a picture of Bill Maynard holding a camera, to remind you all of the TV show Oh No, It's Selwyn Froggitt... but sadly, I failed. So here's Chris Hemsworth instead. Same difference?
Being an old X-Files junkie (I even have Fox Mulder's "I Want To Believe" poster on the wall in my office), I've always had a fascination with the "secret" air force base in the Nevada desert where strange things happen involving crashed alien spaceships, experimental aircraft using salvaged alien technology and autopsies of alien corpses. [Redacted by the U.S. government.)
Let's start this week with a couple of tunes that escaped from Area 51. Curiously, both are instrumentals. Perhaps their lyrics were redacted too?
Back in the real world, and onto your suggestions, the most obvious of which this week was suggested - not by The Swede - but by Martin...
Highway 51 Blues, by Bob Dylan which, in its guitar motif at least, seems to owe a debt to the Everly Brothers.
Not a Dylan original that, it was written by Curtis Jones. Personally, I always get it mixed up with Highway 61 Revisited... too many numbered highways in the Dylan canon.
Martin also offered the following, helpfully including links to make my life easier...
The atypical I Move On by Cowboy Junkies contains the line "51 years, a child upon the Earth, trying to find the answers without digging in the dirt..."
12:51 by The Strokes sounds exactly how you'd expect (no bad thing).
...and one more...
Koka Kola by The Clash starts with the line "In the gleaming corridors of the 51st floor..."
Lynchie, meanwhile, claims to have been eagerly awaiting number 51 in this countdown so that he could suggest this...
They got a vintage Victrola 1951 Full of my favorite records that I grew up on They got ole Hank and Lefty and there's B24 Set 'em up Joe and play "Walking The Floor" Set 'em up Joe and play "Walking The Floor"
I'll definitely save that for when I do my second volume of jukebox songs.
But it seemed clear we had to deal with Little Britain this week, or the 51st State of the United States as we've often cruelly been dubbed due to the "special relationship" which isn't really that special anymore. A number of songwriters have commented on this, including...
And, of course, these guys, this week's unanimous winners thanks to block-voting, hanging chads and Russian facebook interference from Charity Chic, C (obviously!), Lynchie and others...
Next week: we're halfway there! Numero cinquanta! Your suggestions are welcome as always. No need to be coy, Roy...
This one was inspired by The Swede who posted one of these tunes a few weeks back. I liked it so much, I thought I'd dig out nine more and toss them in the washing machine...
Joe wonders where his Mondays went, while trying to find someone else to do his chores...
I want a French maid, someone to wash my jeans Each quarter I've made is lost in washing machines I'm gonna change the world, I could be President If I could just work out where all my Mondays went
An answer song written as the male response to Leader of the Pack. I remember hearing Brian Matthews play this years ago. It's quirky and kitsch, but can't hold a candle to the original.
(Special mention to Bowling For Soup, the only band to ever read one of my blog posts and tweet a reply about it. Pity they never wrote a bowling song.)
More Glaswegian heartbreak from Tracyanne and the gang...
Anyway, I got myself some bowling shoes An' they are all that I can see With all my might I scored a strike My friend you wouldn't believe My teenage years were wasted all on me
Musically, this wouldn't be out of place on The Big Lebowski soundtrack.
Lyrically: it is devastating.
Put that camera away Take no pictures of the ruins of our life That died without a fight and oh We're doing everything just right Except for touching and for holding and consoling Let's go bowling
Originally recorded by The Clovers in 1957, Elvis brought a desperate energy to it that lifts it above much of the soundtrack fodder he was recording at the time. I love the anoraky detail you can find on iffypedia about old Elvis songs: "Presley recorded it between 4 and 7 AM in the early morning of May 26, 1966 at the May 25—28 studio sessions for RCA at the RCA Studio B in Nashville, Tennessee". Did this guy ever sleep?
Janie, Janie, Janie, Janie, Jane Jane Down in the alley, just you and me We're going bowlin' till half past three Just rockin' and reelin', we'll get that feelin' Down in the alley, oh baby gee
1. Camper Van Beethoven - Take The Skinheads Bowling
Of course, there could only be one Number One on this chart. The Manics do a pretty faithful cover too. From the album Telephone Free Landslide Victory. Mark E. Smith would be proud.
Maybe it's a metaphor for racism, maybe it's just nonsense. Either way, it scores 300.
It's only 1 minute 17 seconds long, but sometimes that's all Tom needs.
Well, I pulled on trouble's
braids
And I hid in the briars out by the quickmud
Stayin' away from the main roads
Passin' out wolf tickets,
downwind from the bloodhounds
David Shah's original band, Luxembourg, should have been massive. So should his next band, The Melting Ice Caps. He's an undiscovered indie genius as far as I'm concerned - the bastard son of Jarvis Cocker and David Gedge. Or something like that.
I want your close-cropped hair I want your pale blue eyes
And I want your soft hands
And your handsome thighs I want your gormless grin
Your regional accent
And I want your cracked lips
And I want your snake hips
And I want it right now
Bangs are basically what we in the UK would call a floppy fringe.
Bangs
To drape across your forehead
To swing concordant angles as you incline your head
And although I like you anyway, check out your haircut
A proscenium to stage a face that needs no makeup
I was going to say that this must surely be the only pop song in the world to feature the word 'proscenium'... then I found at least five more. Go figure...
A not particularly complementary tribute to the much-maligned mullet - according to Gruff Rhys, you've sunk to the lowest of the low if you stoop to asking advice off a woman with Ice Hockey Hair. Or Bono.
For other famous mullets in rock songs, see Army in which Ben Folds grows a moustache and a mullet and gets a job at Chic-Filet when his band split up then reform without him. And then there's Mullet Head by the Beastie Boys: 'nuff said. And finally, of course, there's the peerless National Shite Day by Half Man Half Biscuit, in which we get...
There's a man with a mullet going mad with a mallet in Millets...
The story behind Dreadlock Holiday casts this oddball 70s Number One in an interesting light. The song's based on the experiences of 10CC's Eric Stewart and The Moody Blues' Justin Hayward when on holiday in Barbados (although the lyrics change that to Jamaica). In an attempt to talk themselves out of a) getting robbed and b) a dodgy drugs transaction, they explain to the locals harrassing them how much they like cricket and reggae. They don't just like it: they love it!
CVB's David Lowery claims he has no idea why this song was a hit, and that the lyrics are utter nonsense with no hidden meaning. Which is pretty frustrating, because I was certain I knew what it was all about. Drat. Still, it's from an album called Telephone Free Landslide Victory, which should have tipped me off.
TTSB was famously featured in Michael Moore's movie Bowling For Columbine and has also been well-covered by the likes of the Manics and Teenage Fanclub. 1. Morrissey - Suedehead
Why do you come here? And why do you hang around?
Morrissey's debut solo single, and still one of his best. Much was made at the time that it charted higher than any Smiths single, and while Morrissey solo won't ever match his former band, it's interesting to note that he's had far more success as a solo artist, and a career that's lasted almost five times as long.
The video is gloriously dated though, beginning with Moz reclining in a bubble bath in his swanky Chelsea apartment (complete with There Is A Light... bathmat and the complete works of Byron) before a local urchin arrives to invite him to Fairmont, Indiana to visit the place where James Dean died. Once there, Moz stalks the snowy streets dressed like Chris Lowe from the Pet Shop Boys, graffitis his name in the local school, drives a tractor (see above) and plays the bongo for a herd of cows before camping out for the night on Dean's gravestone. If you've never seen it before, look up "hilarious bollocks" in the dictionary. All of which has nothing to do with the song OR the suedehead subculture, but it's still a winner.
Apologies for the dearth of Top Tens over the last couple of weeks. May is the busiest month in teaching - the GCSE English exam is just over a week away as I type this and so things have been pretty hectic for me (not that my students seem unduly concerned by its imminence).
Anyway, it's a Bank Holiday Weekend here in the UK, and across the country folk are dusting down their caravans and heading off to seek the sun. Here's ten songs they might play on the way.
(*A curious psych-folk band with a very dubious taste in album titles: Cunning Stunts, For Girls Who Grow Plump In The Night and If I Could Do It All Over Again, I'd Do It All Over You. Ah, the 70s. Different times.)
I'm glad Blur finally got their act together and brought out a new album this year. I've only listened to it a few times, but I already know it's better than their last, Graham Coxon-less, effort, 2003's Think Tank. Caravan comes from that record, and like most of the rest of the album, it sorely misses Coxo's guitar.
Normally, if you went on holiday and ended up parking your caravan next to Ozzy & co., you'd very quickly move somewhere quieter. However, you might stick around if all they played was this trippy psychedelic number. Not at all what you expect from the BS Boys...
A haunting, mesmeric ode to our dying world from the Australian wunderkind's debut album, Sometimes I Sit And Think, And Sometimes I Just Sit. (Great title.)
A lost indie gem from the last band to sign to Factory records before they went bust in the early 90s. The EP this came from is available to download free from the band's website.
If Jesus drove a motor home, And he come to your town, Would you try to talk to him? Would you follow him around? Honking horns at the drive thru. Double-parking at the mall. Midnight at the Waffle House... Jesus eating eggs with ya'll.
Can't go wrong with a bit of Clint Boon's majestic organ.
1. The Housemartins - Caravan of Love
Christmas 1986, and fourteen year old Rol stands on the edge of the dancefloor at the school disco wondering if anyone will ever slow dance with him to the Housemartins' a capella cover of the Isley Jasper Isley song Caravan of Love.
No one ever did.
So... which one will you get stuck behind on the motorway?
Another band I miss terribly. The chunky guitar riffs and sweet harmonies in Cheerleading recall Mercury & May at their tightest. Silver Sun should have been massive.
And representing England / Ireland in the International Ouija Board Olympics... Stephen from Stretford. With a little help from Joan Sims and Kathy Burke.
