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.
Oh, would some
Power the gift give us To see ourselves
as others see us! It would from many
a blunder free us, And foolish
notion: What airs in dress
and gait would leave us, And even devotion!
So ends one of Robert Burns' most famous poems (well, the English translation of it anyway, which I'm sure will horrify some of you), in which Burns writes about seeing a louse crawling on a woman’s bonnet in church. At first
he’s disgusted by the sight, though by the end of the poem he turns more
philosophical. If we could see ourselves through other people’s eyes, he argues,
we would lose all our pretensions and realise that no one person is better than
anybody else…
Nice idea, Rabbie, but many of us spend far too much time
worrying about how other people see us. Welcome to FOPO – Fear of Other People’s
Opinions. Here’s a for instance…
Someone I know – we’ll call him Tiberius – finds it hard to
make small talk with colleagues or discuss his life outside work. He can handle
more formal discussions about work-related matters in a relaxed fashion, making
jokes when appropriate, and generally feels like his opinion and experience is
valued in those circumstances. But when everyone starts chatting about what
they did last night, what they’re doing at the weekend, what they’re watching
on TV or what music they like… he clams up. If someone raises a topic he has an
opinion on – say they mention a TV show he’s actually watched or a band he has
some knowledge of – he’s not afraid to chip in. What he won’t do is set the agenda.
He won’t mention a show nobody else has been talking about, and he certainly
won’t tell them he’s been out to see Craig Finn or Lucinda Williams over the
weekend. (In case you’re wondering, Tiberius goes to a lot of the same gigs I
do. We don’t go together because, to be honest, I find him rather tedious company.)
Why won’t Tiberius tell his colleagues about the great time
he had watching Craig or Lucinda? Why would he rather pretend he’s done nothing
at the weekend? Why won’t he ask them if anybody’s watching the final series of
Curb or if they saw Fargo Season 5 – the best one yet? Well, only Tiberius
would be able to answer those questions for sure. But here are a couple of
suggestions…
1. Tiberius doesn’t feel that his own life would be of interest
to anybody else. (There’s a huge irony here in that Tiberius spends a great
deal of his time chronicling said life on a blog that very few people read – I’m
not linking to it, to spare you the agony. But he does that, he claims, purely
for his own mental health, and it’s a bonus if other people read it, though he
really can’t understand why they would.)
2. Tiberius does not wish to be judged by his own interests
or opinions. If he tells people he watches Curb, they might think he’s a sociopathic
misanthropist like Larry David. And mentioning any kind of musical interest
outside the mainstream is a certain way of finding yourself stereotyped or
pigeon-holed, labelled and tagged. You like country music, Tiberius? Yee-haw!
You like ROCK? Do… I… need… to… talk… more… slowly… so… you… understand? You
like Taylor Swift too? Sad old man desperately trying to cling onto his youth
by appearing hip? Bruce Springsteen? I never liked Born In The USA… too
jingoistic for me. No, expressing any kind of musical preference just opens one up to stereotyping, prejudice and general all-purpose ignorance… and the last
thing Tiberius wants is to get into an argument defending his tastes… because
that would just make him look touchy.
Why does Tiberius care what other people think? To answer
that question, I turned to our old friend Mr. Google, who directed me towards psychologist
Michael Gervais at The Harvard Business Review. Gervais has written a couple of
articles that jumped out at me, one called How
to Stop Worrying About What Other People Think of You and one called Stop
Basing Your Self-Worth on Other People’s Opinions. The first of those is a
bit too Inspirational for me – it concludes by suggesting we tackle self-esteem
issues by cultivating our own “personal philosophy” or mission statement… but
then, this is The Harvard Business Review, and Gervais’s clients do include “world
record holders, Olympians, internationally acclaimed artists and musicians,
MVPs from every major sport, and Fortune 100 CEOs”… so what do you expect? (Clearly he's overcome any of his own self-esteem issues a long time ago.)
Still, best
not to consult Dr. Gervais if you're a mediocre loser like Tiberius. His article did
however reiterate something we’ve discussed here before – how the monkey brain
fears being ostracized by the “tribe”.
Unfortunately, FOPO is part of
the human condition since we’re operating with an ancient brain. A craving for
social approval made our ancestors cautious and savvy; thousands of years ago,
if the responsibility for the failed hunt fell on your shoulders, your place in
the tribe could be threatened. The desire to fit in and the paralyzing fear of
being disliked undermine our ability to pursue the lives we want to create.
The second article was more enlightening, particularly when
it discussed the core principles of self-worth, and how everybody judges
themselves by a different yardstick. For some, academic prowess trumps everything
else. For others, it’s physical appearance. It could be financial stability or sporting
ability or just being a nice, caring person… we all have an internal barometer
of success, and they’re all attuned to a slightly different wavelength. Which,
when you think about it, makes seeing ourselves through other people’s eyes a
bit of a non-starter. Someone with an athletically-attuned mindset might look
at Tiberius and think, you’re getting a bit flabby, mate, isn’t it time you hit
the gym? But if that doesn’t match Tiberius’s own metric… he'd rather people thought he was a good writer and a genuine human being... so what’s the point in
even trying to make a comparison?
Other people's lives Seem more interesting 'cause they ain't mine
Gervais gets to the crux of the matter when he discusses “externalising
your self-worth”, in other words, trying to conform to other people’s metrics.
Externalizing our self-worth,
when it works, can yield short-term benefits. We get emotionally and chemically
rewarded when we succeed. Our hypothalamus produces dopamine, often referred to
as the feel-good neurotransmitter. Our self-esteem gets lifted, leaving us
feeling safe, secure, and superior.
But dependency on external validation
and social approval has a dark alter ego that reveals itself over time because
outsourcing our self-worth undermines the basic human needs of competence,
autonomy, and relatedness.
Woah. There’s quite a lot to unpack there. I fear we may
have to return to Tiberius next week…
For somewhere between ten and fifteen years of my life, I watched Coronation Street religiously. It was just you did. To be fair, it was only on twice a week back then, rather than every night and twice on Sundays, or whatever it is nowadays. I saw the lorry crash into the Rover's Return and the fire a few years later that nearly burnt the pub to the ground. I saw Brian Tilsley stabbed outside a nightclub and Alan Bradley hit by a tram while chasing after Rita in Blackpool. I saw Deirdre Barlow have her affair with Mike Baldwin and Ken's terrifying reaction (William Roache almost had to act that day!). And then I discovered Brookside and Corrie seemed twee in comparison. That's the thing with soap operas - one minute you're addicted, the next you're onto the next drug. It's funny though - I just mentioned the big tragedies that happened on the Street while I was watching it... but it seems they happen on a weekly basis these days, rather than once every few years. At least that's the impression I get from the front cover of the TV Times.
Coronation Street's been on TV for 63 years now, and particularly in the 60s, 70s and 80s, everybody watched it. So if you were a pop star growing up in those days, it's no wonder you might have dropped a reference into one of your songs.
We'll start today with a new discovery. Michael Knight. How could I not love a band named after the hero of Knight Rider, as played by The Hoff? Furthermore, this is from an album called I'm Not Entirely Sure How I Ended Up Like This. Which seems apt. It's not the easiest listen, but there's something about it I liked enough to buy their entire discography from Bandcamp, so I'll let you know about the rest of their output...
I suppose I’ll soon tire of her charm Unless first she grows tired of me Our love will shine eternally Though I guess there’re her gossip mags And her beloved TV It’s time for Coronation Street
Next up, the always-worth-a-listen Clifford T. Ward, who also likes to name-drop himself, with the T. included...
She likes her television 'Crossroads', 'Coronation Street' And Robin Day's bow tie She likes the quiz shows Where people win a lot of money And that makes sense to her She likes to listen to the radio Music, Clifford T., She says he's nice He's flattered
No wonder the aliens never come to visit. They probably think we'll push them down the stairs and then hide their body in a disused building site round the back of the Rover's.
Richard Thompson sees TV as the new religion...
Jerusalem on the Jukebox, they talk in tongues on Coronation Street Heaven help the Pharisee whose halo has slipped down to his feet A thousand satellite comedians have died for your sins Jerusalem on the jukebox, little angels, beat your wings
...while Stephen Randall is doing his best to get on Product Placement Friday...
Wake me up with cup of Tetley A slice of Hovis Eggs, bacon and beans But the rain is falling down It's falling down, it's falling down On Coronation Street
The army occupy Ireland, but the boot will never fit. Was it Coronation Street? Or was it Londonderry? Oh it doesn't fucking matter, Paul Daniels'll keep us merry.
Not fans then, boys? Not like the Toy Dolls anyway, who seem obsessed with Corrie...
Sitting watching Coronation Street You decide to put your feet up, just about comfy in your seat And she says, I'm feeling hungry If she sends you out for a bag of fish'n'chips You'll know it is time to say
That's just one example. We'll look at another next week.
Laurie Shaw is one of those musicians I discovered through doing features such as this. He reminds me of Jarvis at times. He has (according to Bandcamp) released over 100 albums. The ones I've heard are all worth a listen, but I doubt I'll ever have time to hear them all.
I was ill with jealousy All through Coronation Street But then I was fine After a bit, I was alright
Redhouse Gasoline are from Finland. Yet they appear to know quite a bit about British culture...
When Cynthia’s eyes met Reg’s He felt just like he’d known her for ages His chat-up line was really short and sweet Said she was glamorous enough to be on Coronation Street She never did her GCEs Her mum got sick she had to work at the factory All she ever wanted was for someone to hold her At the pictures late one night Reg slipped his arm round her shoulder
All of which leads us to Billy, still banging on about the British press...
If this does not reflect your view, you should understand That those who own the papers also own this land And they'd rather you believed In Coronation Street capers In the war of circulation, it sells newspapers Could it be an infringement Of the freedom of the press To print pictures of women in states of undress?
Those are the best songs I could find that mentioned Coronation Street by name. However, there are many more which mention some of the street's iconic residents. Next week, we'll take a listen to some of those. I've got quite a few stacked up, but if you know of any songs that namedrops a legend from the street, do let me know.
There are, of course, hundreds of songs about magic and magic tricks, so I tried to specifically stick to songs that mention magicians in the title or specifically tell stories about magicians. So no Queen, Pilot, Lovin' Spoonful, ELO, Perry Como... or the Steve Miller Band. Not this time, anyway.
Special mentions to The Magicians and 4 or 5 Magicians (whose excellent Tom Waits Blues is worth tracking down if you can find it anywhere).
There is a grey area, a twilight zone, if you like, between the psychedelic wonder of Jefferson Airplane and the 80s radio conquering might of Starship. This is that strange hinterland, the coccoon phase, the metamorphosis. Tread carefully...
Should probably save this one from my Top Ten Hypnosis Songs... ah, sod it, I'll just run it again then too. If you haven't fallen under its spell in the first ten seconds, there's no hope for you.
It must be tough being a new band from Sheffield: you're instantly shouldered with the burden of being the next Arctic Monkeys, Pulp or Human League. Particularly if Steve LaMacq gets on your case.
The Crookes were cursed to fail in just such a way a few years back... and we've heard very little of them since. Shame, because this one was lovely.
If like me, you're tired of getting older, quicker, every day... CTW's song places the blame for our unhappiness squarely at the feet of that old robbing bastard with the hourglass.
The former Drive-By Trucker is enjoying unprecedented solo success at the moment - he won Artist, Song and Album of the Year at the American Music Awards recently for his latest album, Something More Than Free. Deservedly so, it's one of the best records I've heard in the past 12 months.
This is from his debut solo record, Sirens of the Ditch, and the magic was definitely there back then too...
And I am an orphan man but ain't we all? And I can make myself disappear I am an orphan man but ain't we all? And I could be somewhere worse than here...
I mentioned my love of Scroobius Pip over at A History of Dubious Taste recently and was pleased to hear that Jez agreed with me that (although, musically, Dan le Sac's beats weren't really our thing) Pip is a wordsmith par excellence.
The Magician's Assistant is the perfect example of that. It's a letter to an ex-girlfriend who may or may not have taken her own life, and it stops you in its tracks... if you can get past the whirling, blipping racket in the background. Which I can, easily. But I'd still rather have a guitar, piano and some real drums.
Barton Carroll is a new discovery... who's been hiding in my record collection for a good few years now. Maybe it's just me who does this, but I trip over so much music that interests me, from time to time I buy a record and don't get round to listening to it... for years. This is from his 2010 album Together You & I, which I must have bought soon after its release but only became hooked on a couple of months back.
Carroll's a bit of an enigma: he doesn't even have a wikipedia entry, so lazy bloggers like me can't summarise his discography with one easy click. It took me ages to work out whether he was American or British (he sounds like a Yank, but some of his songs employ a very English vernacular: at times he reminds me of Richard Thompson, but other times he sounds nothing like that). I can't even find out the identity of the female singer who duets with him here. I did discover that he's now giving this album away for free on his website, and I highly recommend you take the time to download... AND LISTEN... to it!
(Him) And I’ll buy you a dress and a big diamond ring (Her) And the vows that I conjure up won’t mean a thing But if you can lower that curtain and get me to sing (Him and Her) I’ll take the magic, black or white I couldn’t care less if it’s bona fide Since you and I know love’s a lie Let’s get on with the illusion
1. Prefab Sprout - The Old Magician
As time goes by, my appreciation for the last Prefab Sprout album, Crimson / Red, grows ever stronger. I love the early Sprout records, but this 2013 MASTERPIECE (let's not use that word lightly, fellow bloggers) is surely one of the most consistently excellent collections of songs released in the 21st Century. It confirms Paddy McAloon's place as a lyrical GENIUS (two-hyperboles-for-the-price-of-one, this week only).
The Old Magician works on two levels: as the story of an aging conjuror coming to terms with the fact that his best tricks are behind him... and as a metaphor for growng old itself. It's witty and heartbreaking at the same time, and it contains some of the best lines Paddy has ever written. I can't decide which is my favourite, but it's probably a toss up between the two highlighted below...
Lord have mercy and be kind
When our faculties unwind
Overlook the hat and gloves
The tired act that no-one loves There was a time we produced doves The old magician takes the stage
With sleight of hand he’ll disengage
As dignified as you’ll allow
He’ll take his last, his final bow He’s lost all his illusions now
I grew up listening to Terry
Wogan. He was a warm and friendly voice on the radio; he often made me
laugh, sometimes till I cried; and like all the best DJs, he introduced
me to some great records. Here's ten that will always remind me of old
Tel...
The only pop song I know that mentions Terry by name, and that's what drew my attention to Franz Ferdinand in the first place. It's about a band starting out and dreaming of a better future - including an interview on Wogan.
So I'm on BBC2 now, telling Terry Wogan how I made it
What I made is unclear now, but his deference is and his laughter is
My words and smile are so easy now
Yes, It's easy now
Yes, It's easy now
It's a curious, dreamlike interlude in the song which doesn't quite fit with the rest, but that's what makes it great. It certainly helped lift Franz Ferdinand a step above other turn-of-the-century guitar bands like the Libertines, though I'm not sure they ever did anything so self-consciously odd again.
I resisted including The Floral Dance or any of Terry's own musical recordings (although he did have a damned fine voice and if you can track down his duet with Cerys Matthews on Que Sera Sera, recorded for Children In Need a few years back, you'll be amazed), but I couldn't resist this. For many years, Ray Moore presented the show before Terry on Radio 2. Moore was a quiet, very well spoken gentleman representative of the old school BBC, with a wickedly subversive sense of humour (much like Tel himself). Somehow, Moore's jokey charity record based on a rhyme from his Liverpudlian childhood reached #24 in the charts in 1986. Sadly, he died of cancer in 1989, but not before being reunited with his old radio sparring partner one last time...
When I posted my initial reaction to Terry's death with the video for my #2 song, saying how it always reminded me of Terry, my old pal Sally responded immediately that she agreed... and then mentioned Billie Jo Spears. A few weeks back, I picked up a Billie Jo CD in the local charity shop and was surprised by how many of them I remembered... from a long, long time ago. My misspent youth: listening to Terry Wogan on the wireless.
Any excuse to play some Glen (and Jimmy Webb). I thought about crowbarring the Greatest Record Ever Recorded in here again, but it's Rhinestone Cowboy, not Wichita Lineman, that reminds me more of Terry.
I guess I can trace my love of country music to Sir Terence. While rock and indie and alt-everything else came later, Radio 2 was the station I listened to as a small child, and Terry introduced me to many of my favourite country singers.
Apparently, the album this comes from was Terry's all-time favourite 33 1/3. I didn't know that till compiling this post, but I did know the song... thanks to Tel.
Clifford T. Ward slips into the Nick Drake category - a heartbreaking singer-songwriter too shy and retiring to play the fame game. One listen to this song will tell you he could have been massive... if he'd had the confidence.
Written by Randy Newman, who only does film scores these days, this was the theme to the second Babe film, Pig In The City. Getting Peter Gabriel to record it along with Paddy Moloney of the Chieftains and the Black Dyke Mills brass band lifted it beyond the schmaltz of its roots, turning it into something really quite moving. When Terry appeared on Desert Island Discs, he chose this as the favourite of all his selections.
The record that was at Number One in March 1972, the month I was born. A couple of weeks later, Terry Wogan took over the Radio 2 breakfast show and became the most recognisable radio voice of my childhood. And he played this song a lot...
Another favourite of Tel's, for obvious reasons as it's about a morning radio jock who's feeling his age. There's a radio edit of the song that ends a little happier than the album version, but I'm sure Terry used to play the original, sadder version. (I might be wrong: my memory makes its own rules.) Hearing this song on Terry's show when I was a kid introduced me to the late great Harry Chapin and I've been a fan ever since.
1. Hoyt Axton - Della & The Dealer
I've been wanting to feature this song here for a while. It's a longtime favourite of mine and I know for certain it was Terry who introduced me to it. I've never heard anyone else play it on the radio, and I'm not sure I'd have heard of Hoyt Axton (beyond his most famous role as Zach Galligan's dad in Gremlins) otherwise. It was the first song that came to mind when I heard about Terry's death, so it makes Number One today...
If that cat could talk, what tales he'd tell,
About Della and the Dealer and the dog as well.
But the cat was cool,
And he never said a mumblin' word...
Good night, Terry. Dallas wouldn't have been the same without you...
We live in a time-poor time. None of us have enough time (to quote Michael Hutchence) for all that we want to do. I certainly don't have enough time at the moment... and I imagine I'll have even less once I become a father later this year. So let's stop and consider... how very precious our time is.
It may only be an instrumental and therefore have nothing more in common with the theme of this Top Ten than its title... but it's still a stone cold classic.
It seems odd to be holding up a song written 20+ years ago by George Flippin' Michael as an apt statement on the world today... but in light of recent political shenanigans, damn this is timely!
But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with
There's not enough hours in the day To say all that I want to say There's not enough days in the week And weeks go by quicker than drunks knock back liquor
1. The Beautiful South - A Little Time
One of Paul Heaton's most bittersweet duets, beautifully performed by Dave Hemingway and Brianna Corrigan... the video is priceless.
Funny how quick the milk turns sour, isn't it? Isn't it?
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