I've been re-reading The Shining by Stephen King recently. Two reasons for this. One, the last couple of modern novels I've read have left me underwhelmed and frustrated. Two, Louise keeps saying, "you have all these old books on the shelves that you never read," and I needed a little more evidence to back up my claims that, "I'll read them again someday". Otherwise: charity shop.
Anyway, I like reading books set in the world of my childhood. A pre-internet, pre-covid, pre-modern day bullshit world... simpler times. The Shining was first published in 1977, when I was 5, a world where a telephone in your home was apparently something of a luxury...
Wendy had insisted on a phone in spite of their unraveling finances. She had argued that with a small child - especially a boy like Danny, who sometimes suffered from fainting spells - they couldn't afford not to have one. So Jack had forked over the thirty-dollar installation fee, bad enough, and a ninety-dollar security deposit, which really hurt. And so far the phone had been mute, except for two wrong numbers.
I'm not sure when my parents got their first telephone installed, but it was there on the wall between the kitchen and the living room throughout my childhood. I remember standing there, when I could reach it, and rotary dialling the numbers... then waiting for a friend's mum to answer. "Hi Mrs. Brook. Is Liam in? Can he come to the phone?"
Of course, the alternative was the good old-fashioned phone box, recently celebrated in John's August Photo Challenge.
Now he dialed the operator and she told him that for a dollar eighty-five he could be put in touch with Al two thousand miles away for three minutes. Time is relative, baby, he thought, and stuck in eight quarters. Faintly he could hear the electronic boops and beeps of his connection sniffling its way eastward.
We take so much for granted these days. A lot of people don't even bother with a home phone anymore, and to be honest, the only time I take a call on ours is when Louise has taken Sam out and she's calling to tell me to put the tea on.
I remember explaining to a bunch of phone-addicted students a few years back that we never even had mobiles when I was a kid. A look of genuine panic crept over their faces.
"But what if you were at school and your mum needed to speak to you urgently?"
"Well, I guess she'd call the school office and someone would come down to pass a message on," I replied... but I couldn't think of any occasion when such a thing had been necessary. Nothing was so urgent that it couldn't wait a few hours back then.
"Or what about if you were meeting up with some mates in town?"
"Well, you'd arrange a time and a place and..."
"But what if they were late?"
"Then you'd wait. And if they still didn't show up, I guess you'd go home and call them later."
Here are some more songs about the telephones of our youth...
It's been a while since I ran any guest posts here, and the only reason for that is that nobody has offered any. Fair enough, most of you have your own blogs to worry about. Fortunately, George has got sick of reading my interminable ramblings day after day, or perhaps taken mercy on me after yesterday's bumper post, and offered not one, but two guest posts to give me what Huey Lewis would call a Couple Days Off. So Guest Post Thursday is back!
Here's George...
I was listening to one of the three cds in the Sick, Sorry and Sober set recently and I heard this:
Today I passed you in the street,
And my heart fell at your feet,
I can’t help it if I’m still in love with you
And I thought that it was genius: a simple lyric, a simple tune, that Hawaiian-sounding guitar, that reedy, plaintive and painful voice, combining to make an unforgettable song. I can understand why some 70s and 80s country music puts people off, but I will never understand how people could not like and admire this song.
And if you can get hold of that 3 cd set I would urge you to do so.
A while later, whilst sitting around not doing much, just singing those lines, I thought of this, another simple intro, builds up a bit, that “ooo” the drum roll, then Levi Stubbs’ voice...
I’m spoiling you, two utterly brilliant songs, it’s got to be downhill now. There’s a lot of song titles that start “I can’t”, and an amazing number of them are great. And then there’s that abomination by crap prog turned crap pop group with that drummer-singer. So, to cleanse your ears after just polluting them with the thought of that song, here’s some hard-rock blues.
Anita is on heat as I write this, has been for a couple of days, so much bleating round these parts, and it’s difficult to get her in the goat shed. Parsley goes in no problem, a bit of bread, corn, he’s there, but at times like these, not Anita. FORTY minutes it took on Tuesday. She’s bleating for Francisco’s young male goat:
So a Top Ten “I Can’t” songs. Yes, some obvious ones not there, some deliberately excluded on grounds of taste, but not Barry Manilow, oh no, but because the song is Can’t Smile WIthout You, and not I Can’t Smile Without You.
Thanks of course to Rol for allowing this to be posted. Feel free to leave your inane comment.
And I’ve just been informed that I can write a part 2. I bet you can’t wait!
Because tradition dictates I close my posts with a video (I feel naked without them), I found another version of George's top song which is equally worthy of your ears. And I'm glad George didn't diss Barry. Less bothered about him dissing the drummer-singer.
Rah = yay. Apparently, Rah is also a derogatory term for the upper classes. Why anyone would want to be derogatory about the upper classes is beyond me. The Rah Band - Clouds Across The Moon
Lynchie has no shame. (It's the only song of theirs that I know too... but I love it unashamedly.)
Another video that screams for your attention.
1. Delta, famous for 15 minute soup and a Queen simile.
Delta = D.
Andy Warhol did pictures of Campbell's soup and told us we'd all be famous for fifteen minutes.
Queen sang Bohemian Rhapsody
Similes, as I keep telling my students, mostly involve like or as.
Somehow, I've never seen the video this before. Can't understand why they never showed it on Top of the Pops. (Clue: it's NSFW.)
Another George victory.
Can't wait for next week's. #9 already has me chuckling...
Let's celebrate the bank holiday weekend with a good argument, as so many couples do.
Here are ten of the best arguing couples on record... although I had plenty more to choose from, so don't be surprised to hear a Volume 2 one day soon...
Way, way back in the year 2000... before many of today's 16 year olds were even born... German musical actress Ute Lemper teamed up with the likes of Scott Walker, Nick Cave, Elvis Costello and the Divine Mr. Hannon for a "pop" album. This was one of the acrimonious highlights...
Neil:
I was there for you.
You were there for me...
And him,
And half of the western world it seems...
Ute:
No, baby, that's not fair,
There were two or three...
Okay.
...At most
But I don't like to boast.
I
first heard this duet as recorded by one of my favourite bands of the
noughties: The Indelicates. In fact, I'd be featuring their version here
if it was on youtube: they really do make it their own. Hunt it down if
you can.
In its youtube absence though, the original
recording by Loretta and Conway is pretty damned cool too. Because looks
ain't everything and money ain't everything...
Dexys' (minus the Midnight Runners of their youth) 2012 album One Day I'm Going To Soar is one of the greatest comeback records in the history of pop... and these two songs are undoubtedly the highlight. It all begins with a passionate fling between Kevin Rowland and new recruit Madeleine Hyland which goes awry when Kev admits he doesn't know how to love her. (Men!) After a bitter row, she chucks him out... which leads directly into the explanations and recriminations of the following track. Too-ray-aye this ain't...
John and Iris take turns listing their faults... but in spite of all that, they're still very much in love. Which is always nice to hear.
John:
She don't like her eggs all runny
She thinks crossin' her legs is funny
She looks down her nose at money
She gets it on like the Easter Bunny
She's my baby, I'm her honey
I'm never gonna let her go
Iris:
He ain't got laid in a month of Sundays
I caught him once and he was sniffin' my undies
He ain't too sharp but he gets things done
Drinks his beer like it's oxygen
He's my baby
And I'm his honey
Never gonna let him go
Space are unfairly remembered as another bunch of Britpop also-rans, but listen to this again and it's a thing of unique beauty that sets them on an entirely different platform from the likes of Cast, Menswear and those two idiot brothers. It's weird, yes, but never too self-consciously quirky. The lyrical detail saves it, along with the genius move of employing Cerys for guest vocals: who else could have sung, "I have never thrown my knickers at you!" with such conviction (not to mention perfectly setting up Tommy Scott's comeback, "And I don't come from Wales")?
Best thing about it? This was actually their biggest chart hit... although we probably remember them more for Me & You Vs. The World or Female of the Species. Seriously, give this one another listen and remember: this song was on radio station A-lists all across the country. That's something which would never happen today...
Paul Heaton has probably written more bickering couple songs than anyone else I can think of (see also You Keep It All In, Your Father & I, Even A Palm Tree, etc. etc.).
The beauty of A Little Time though is that on first hearing it sounds more like a traditional love duet. Heaton wisely chose not to sing this one himself, instead giving the male part to the much less sarky-sounding Dave Hemingway, while original Beautiful South femme fatale Brianna Corrigan could well be singing the Diana Ross part of Endless Love. Until you listen to the lyrics. Or watch the video...
Tom and Crystal love to have a good whinge about the state the other one leaves the house in... makes you think they deserve each other. Things do get a little personal at times though. Highlight for me is when Tom asks Crystal...
Tell me - how long have you been combing your hair with a wrench?
Another forgotten classic from the Britpop era in which Lush's Miki Berenyi trades barbs with Jarvis, celebrating the demise of their "relationship". Methinks they doth protest too much...
Jarvis:
'Cause I've met this girl and she's so good to me
She's really beautiful, fantastic company
Oh, when I'm with her I realise what love can be
'Cause she's fifty times the person you will ever be
Miki:
Good luck, mister, do you think I care?
Since you've been gone the offers have been everywhere
I've got a million guys just lining up for me
I've turned a corner, boy, my life is ecstasy...
Marsa was uncredited on Friedman's biggest hit, yet she plays an essential part. It's Dean's lyrics that make this most like a real couple's argument though. The song's filled with non-sequiturs, rhetorical questions, clumsy inference, misunderstanding, sarcasm and the two of them finishing each other's sentences. You may consider it cheesy 70s MOR (sax break and all), but it's much deeper and smarter than that.
Plus, unlike a lot of the arguments on this list, this one has a happy ending...
1. Otis Redding & Carla Thomas - Tramp
Nobody bickers like Otis & Carla... there's not a wasted line in this classic. Best bicker? Without question...
Carla: Look here. You ain't got no money. Otis: I got everything.
Carla: You can't buy me all those minks and sables and all that stuff I want.
Otis: I can buy you minks, rats, frogs, squirrels, rabbits, ...anything you want, Woman.
Tramp wasn't written as a duet. The original version by Lowell Fulsom is just one guy bragging about what a lover-lover man he is. The beat's been sampled by everybody from Joe Tex to Ice Cube to Prince (on 7). The song's been covered by everyone from Salt 'n' Pepa to ZZ Top to the Steve Miller Band. But no other version comes close to Carla and Otis...
What are the chances of you agreeing with any of those? Bloody zero! You'll just disagree to be awkward. I know you.
I used to work with a guy called Danny. I once heard him (non-ironically) tell a client, "yeah, yeah, it's cool, it's happening, it's us". Plus he called EVERYONE 'mate'. He couldn't finish a sentence without sticking that word on the end. As a result, I have a deep, irrational distrust of anyone called Danny... so I apologise if that's you. I'm sure you'd never say, "it's cool, it's happening, it's us". Would you?
Anyway, here's ten songs about Danny. No Daniels, they'll get their own turn some other day, Elton.
Mark E. Smith and co. cover a 1958 Gene Vincent song as the B / AA side of the Fall's 1986 single Couldn't Get Ahed. Missing out letters was cool back then.
Originally recorded by Lal & Mike Waterson in 1972 (with Richard Thompson and Martin Carthy on guitars), but I'm more taken by Billy's cover because... well, it's Billy. No idea who this Danny Rose is - but it's not Woody Allen's or any of the footballers.
The second track on Rufus's debut album (18 years old, folks) is the first of three Danny Boys to make the Top Ten (all different songs). This one's a typically dramatic and beautiful ode to a former beau who let Rufus down (not advisable unless you want to be immortalised in song).
We walk the streets Gently starin' wonderin' what to do The sun in sheets Pourin' down those streets to eyes green and blue And a ship with eight sails could come 'round the bend Or a herd of bulls charging stop lights red I'd be blind
The original Danny Boy: the Irish anthem, set to the tune of Londonderry Air, and a firm favourite of my dad, has been recorded by everybody from Elvis to Johnny Cash (twice), Patti LaBelle to Thin Lizzy. But I'll be damned if I've ever heard a better version than Jackie Wilson's 1965 cover. He takes that tune to new places.
Danny Popplewell will forever be Bradford's greatest musical export in my ears, and considering how long a career Stuart Murdoch has maintained in a very similar vein, I always feel it's tragic that Ooberman were not a much, much bigger band.
This is a pretty obscure b-side from their single Tears From A Willow... but it's still great.
OK, this one takes a bit of explaining. This song was written by Ben Weisman & Fred Wise who wrote a number of songs for Elvis movies, of which this was one, although it wasn't released at the time. A little later, the chorus (and title) were rewritten from Danny to Lonely Blue Boy, and re-recorded by Conway Twitty who had a US Top Ten hit with it in 1960. I could have linked to the Elvis version - y'know, the one that's actually called Danny - but I prefer the one by Mr. Twitty. I first came across it on the soundtrack to Punch Drunk Love, that rarest of beasts: a good Adam Sandler film. (No, really.)
That's twice Elvis has lost out today - don't worry, you're still the king.
At first, this doesn't sound like a regular Ramones song at all - it doesn't begin with a "One-choo-three-four!" for a start. Phil Spector's influence is all over this one though, and it does build (in typical Spector fashion) to sound just like a Ramones song: indeed, Joey apparently thought this was one of the best songs Spector produced for the band.
The Danny in question is Ramones' manager Danny Field, the man who also signed Iggy and the MC5 and also worked with Jonathan Richman. Without him, they say punk might not have happened.
From Paddy McAloon's glorious 2014 comeback album, Crimson/Red. I loved this song from the moment I first heard it, but it took Miller (yes, him again) to point out that it was a in fact a tribute to one of the greatest songwriters to ever walk the face of the earth: Wichita Lineman's own Jimmy Webb.
In words he paints a vivid scene, of places you may not have been Yet listening, you're moved to swear, I know that house, I've climbed the stair I've shared those overwhelming feelings, I've suffered loss - I've known such joy Emotions we all know, are burnished til they glow, in the songs of Danny Galway
1. Anne Murray - Danny's Song
Have you been watching the Mick Jagger / Martin Scorcese TV show Vinyl? You know, the one about the record industry in the 70s with Jagger's son James doing his best to distance himself from his new Wicked Stepfather (like Jerry Hall hasn't got enough money) by working alongside daddy dearest? The show's not been particularly well-reviewed but I'm really loving it (once you get past the typical Scorcese excessive glorification of sleaze) and the soundtrack is excellent, mixing classic rock 'n' roll, soul, blues, punk and cheesy 70s pop to great effect.
A recent episode closed with Anne Murray's classic rendition of Danny's Song (written by Footloose maestro Kenny Loggins, trivia lovers) and it was a weird case of synchronicity since I've been playing this track a lot lately ever since I heard it played on the radio as a tribute to Wogan (it was one of his favourites I didn't get round to writing about in My Top Ten Terry Wogan Songs).
Altogether now...
"Even though we ain't got money I'm so in love with you honey..."
OK, I'm stretching the criteria to include this one, but it's a lost classic from a songwriter who deserves to be remembered as more than just Thom Yorke's younger brother.
Or, you may have reasons to prefer Rod's version. Nothing wrong with that. I, of course, have a very special place in my heart for Bruce's song of the same name... philosophy from roadkill.
So why are you sat at home?
You're not designed to be alone
You just got used to saying "no"
So get up and get down and get outside
Cos it's a lovely sunny day
But you hide yourself away
You've only got yourself to blame
Get up and get down and get outside
1. Ian Dury & The Blockheads - Reasons To Be Cheerful (Part 3)
If you're struggling to find reasons to be cheerful... any of these should suffice:
Something nice to study Phoning up a buddy Being in my nuddy Saying hokey-dokey Singalonga Smokey Coming out of chokey
Be reasonable - don't just tell me your favourite. Tell me your reasons...
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