Put your Umbrella away and stop staring at your Diamonds (maybe put some clothes on too) because it's time for the answers to this week's Saturday Snapshots.
Some fierce competition yesterday morning between Rigid Digit and George... I think RD just clinched it, but it was pretty close. Good support from the rest of you, although I don't think anyone cracked my fiendish cryptic crossword clue for the Eddie Reader song. Thanks for playing, as always, guys...
It took me ages to remember what Dido had to to with Otis, since it seemed obvious that "resting on the harbour wall" referred to (Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay. Then I remembered: "Dido resting" was an anagram.
Take A Bow if you got them all right... more next week.
(Who knew both Madonna & Rhianna had songs called Take A Bow? Made my job much easier this weekend.)
Almost as soon as I posted Volume 1, my old friend Sally started protesting on Facebook. I'm sure she won't mind if I share her rant with you all now...
"Rol.
Rol. Rol, Rol, Rol, Rol, Rol, Rol, Rol, Rol... Where are all the
tear-streaked, self-hating women you introduced me to? What of Not
Pretty Enough? Footsteps Fall? Bloody Mother-Fucking Asshole? Maybe
that's not strictly self pity, but it sure felt like it to me. If you do
this again it should feature the mascara-streaked, the unnoticed
despite hours of prep, the gin-soaked, the Laydeez"
Well, who am I to refuse such a heartfelt plea? And yes, Sally was right: I was remiss in making Volume 1 all about miserable fellas. (Although I had forgotten just how much I used to share the misery with anyone and everyone way back when Sally and I worked in the same office.) And so, to redress the balance...
The thing about mining a rich seam like self-pity is that way down at Number Nine you'll find songs which would have been Number One on any other Top Ten. There's a brutal simplicity to Lucinda Williams' lyrics here, each line repeated over and over to hammer home the point...
Heavy blankets Heavy blankets Heavy blankets Cover lonely girls
But the kicker comes at the end when Lucinda reveals: she knows of what she writes.
Whenever I listen to the Carpenters, I'm reminded of John Cusack's opening monologue to High Fidelity... what came first: the music or the misery? Makes you wonder about poor, tragic Karen...
I'll say goodbye to love No one ever cared if I should live or die Time and time again the chance for love has passed me by And all I know of love Is how to live without it I just can't seem to find it
So I've made my mind up I must live my life alone And though it's not the easy way I guess I've always known I'd say goodbye to love...
I'll admit, when Sally suggested this one, I wasn't sure it fit the criteria. The titular "hero" is Loudon Wainwright III, and on the surface this is just Martha's semi-tongue-in-cheek attack on her father's longstanding habit of writing extremely autobiographical (if highly amusing) songs about his family... though frankly, Martha got off light compared to Rufus. But when you delve a bit deeper, it is gloriously miserable in its own way, and despite being one of her earliest songs, it might be Martha's finest hour.
And you have no idea
No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home With the fucking phone And the mother of gloom In your bedroom Standing over your head With her hand in your head With her hand in your head
I will not pretend I will not put on a smile I will not say I'm all right for you When all I wanted was to be good To do everything in truth To do everything in truth
Now here's someone who really has a reason to feel self-pity. The sequel to the equally spectacular Love Child, here we find Ross's self-hating heroine moving away from home to escape the shame of being born in poverty to a "slum mum"... only to drown in guilt when that deserted and disowned mother dies lonely and heartbroken while her daughter parades around university pretending to come from a wealthy family.
Got a telegram
Mama passed away while making home made jam
before she died she cried to see me by her side
She always did her best
Ah cooked and cleaned and always in the same old dress
Working hard, down on her knees
Always trying to please
Mama, mama, mama can you hear me?
Mama, mama, mama can you hear me?
I'm living in shame
Mama, I miss you
I know you've done your best
Mama, I miss you
This song utterly destroys me. In a very good way.
I was going to disqualify this on the basis that it's written by two blokes (John Moore and Luke Haines), but then I realised it's not the only song like that in this list. Besides, it's the performance that matters, and Sarah Nixey makes this her own.
There is no creature in the known universe more well-versed in the fine art of self-pity than your average teenager, and our Top Three today demonstrates that perfectly with three slightly-older ladies turning to their teenage selves for devastating inspiration. Here Kasey Chambers turns romantic desperation into an artform, and then wonders...
Why do you see right through me?
That said, she's a novice when compared to the all-time champion of channeling teenage angst into a pop song...
At Seventeen may well have been written about the horrors of being a teenage girl... but sadly, most of the lyrics recall my own teenage woe with clinical precision...
To those of us who knew the pain Of valentines that never came And those whose names were never called When choosing sides for basketball It was long ago and far away The world was younger than today When dreams were all they gave for free To ugly duckling girls like me
1. The Shangri-Las - Past, Present And Future
Melodrama on a supremely epic scale was the Shangri-Las' stock in trade, and they certainly turned it up to 11 on this 1966 ode to joylessness. Set to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, it sticks a dagger into teenage heartbreak unlike any other record you'll ever hear. Sublime.
No surprise to find both Morrissey & Marr were fans...
That's Volume 2 out of the way. I hope you realise this series could run and run. Especially if you keep encouraging me. Misery does love company...
