I know I need a small vacation, but it don't look like rain. So here's one final batch of records I enjoyed this year, but not quite enough to get them into my Top 24 of 2024 (which starts on Wednesday). Interspersed with random lyrics from my head that nobody's bothered about identifying, but it keeps me happy. Without further ado, let's move before they raise the parking rate!
As mentioned just a couple of weeks back, I've been very much enjoying the work of Hannah and her Dad, in the band Hann. Up until very recently, it's all been singular releases through the camp of bands... then, at the last minute, Hann finally released their debut album. Too late for my Year End countdown, I'm afraid... though we really did try to make it.
Forever In A Glance is available digitally, or digitally with an accompanying lyric booklet. No CDs, because Hannah's from the post-CD generation, clearly. Which is a shame (Why do you use me? Try to confuse me?) because I'd have bought one.
More young ladies, although perhaps not that young since they've been making records as far back as 2004. The Veronicas come from Australia, and the track below got lodged in my head for a good part of the year with its anti-celebrity-glamour hook. You probably think this song is about you.
The rest of the album wasn't bad either.
Slightly older (but a gentleman should never mention a lady's age) Eddi Reader returned to her Fairground Attraction roots this year and together with her original partner in crime, Mark Nevin, they threw their Lego in the lake, releasing their second full LP (only 36 years after the first one). And the great thing is, they haven't changed a bit... though clearly the world around them has. (Oh, has the world changed or have I changed?)
And finally, a Super Furry Animal. Because we can never have too many of them. Cry wolf, baby! Sadly, Gruff is estranged from his old pals these days. He must be a Bad Friend...
Listen up, Gruff - You've got to tolerate all those people that you hate!
24 albums from 2024 will now be shuffled into a loose order of preference in time to bore the pants of you all entertain you over the festive period. I'm about to lose control and I think I like it!
Welcome back to my appreciation of song titles that leap off the record sleeve and demand to be listened to. The songs themselves might not always live up to the hype, but they're usually worthy of at least a little consideration.
Diana Ross is clearly one very tough cookie - and not someone I'd get in a boxing ring with, since she has a history of taking few prisoners. Whatever personality flaws she may or may not possess, there's no denying the power of her musical legacy. The Supremes, for me at least, were supreme... and her solo years are full of gems too, with a little sifting. Title-wise, this is probably my favourite song she's performed on. It makes you wonder why a certain Manchester Miserablist never thought to cover it...
Another seemingly indestructible woman from the world of pop is Skin from Skunk Anansie. She always looks like the type to knock you down as soon as look at you... though she also possesses a welcome self-awareness, as demonstrated below...
Especially when, if we're talking about song titles, you go down in history as having written one of the absolute greats...
Resilience and determination are also on display from our next lady. Barbara Brown hailed from Memphis in the early 60s, signing a deal with Stax that really was a family affair - sisters Roberta, Betty and Maurice (?) were on backing vocals, while brothers Walter and Richard contributed to the songwriting.
Still in the southern States, but a few decades later, we find a lady called Keri Leigh, presumably helping clean the floor so that Barbara can crawl on it. I couldn't find much about Keri on the web of lies, but this track came from a collection I've been dipping into lately called The Last Soul Company: Malaco - A 30 Year Restrospective.
Back up to date - almost, because this is from Dry Cleaning's debut EP of 2019, though it's recently been remastered and made all sparkly. I hope you enjoy the wonderful stream-of-consciousness wordplay and deadpan vocals of Florence Cleopatra Shaw as much as I do.
Imaginary hot romance with Daniel Day Lewis Welcome to the county of Hampshire Jam after school
Here's another southern diva, a lady who's mostly known around these parts for warning you not to mess with her toot toot. Scratch below the surface, and Ms. LaSalle (real name: Ora Denise Allen) had an enviable career as a smooth soul chanteuse, songwriter, producer and record company boss. Here's a great little number from her back catalogue, and a title that raises all kinds of questions...
And finally, we have the return of a band who haven't made music together in 35 years. Back in the late 80s, they released one classic album, then started working on a second... which never really happened. A jumbled collection of b-sides and out-takes appeared in its place, and that was all she wrote. Lead singer Eddi Reader went off to a solo career, while guitarist Mark Nevin co-wrote Morrissey's most underappreciated album, Kill Uncle, and a bunch of other stuff he kept to himself. They finally appear to have patched up their differences though, and the result sounds as though they've never been away. Great title too...
I hate dealing with car repairs and mechanics. I always feel
like they’re going to be patronising, supercilious and out to rip me off every
chance they get. Unfortunately, due to the amount of mileage I do these days,
my dealings with car repair “specialists” have increased… and any such
encounter I can drive away from without a hole in my pocket or a bigger hole in
my ego gives me cause for cheer. Actual turn up the radio, thump the steering
wheel, whoop for joy jubilation. Survived another one! Got out with my wallet
and my dignity (mostly) intact!
There were bad times when my tank was running dry And my machine couldn't shift into its gears And on cold days it would stall So I almost junked it all
In her book Don’t Feed The Monkey Mind, Jennifer Shannon
identifies three “assumptions” which our stressed out amygdala loves to
accentuate. Last week I talked about Fear of Uncertainty… this week: Perfectionism.
I don’t think of myself as a perfectionist. I'm too lazy. Of Dr. Shannon’s three
assumptions, this was the one I'd almost ruled out from the start. Until I read
the chapter and realised that perfectionism goes hand in hand with something else
which I am extremely familiar with: fear of failure. The expert explains…
While others find motivation from challenge, a higher
purpose, a promised prize, or simply the joy of doing the thing itself, if you
are a perfectionist, your motivation is fear of failing. Your mantra is: don’t screw it up! Only when you’ve
completed the social interaction or task without making any mistakes will you
be able to relax.
This explains the whoop of joy I let out on escaping the maw
of the mechanic, unscathed.
This also explains why I never asked a girl out in my teens,
and only really stumbled into relationships in my 20s when the green light was
showing and the welcome mat was thrown at my feet.
As I’ve grown older, I have learned to take more risks, step
outside my comfort zone, force myself to flirt with danger if the prize was really
worth having. That’s how I managed to get out of my old job… but I had to be
backed into a corner by the firing squad to do it.
And this is the place where failure goes If your dreams won't die This is where all your hopes survive If they're not a lie This is where all the might-have-beens Triumph and forgive This is where all the star-crossed loves Have the chance to live
Perfectionists hedge their bets, only doing things they know
they’ll be good at. If you do get saddled with something you aren’t good at,
you may just put it off until the last minute, where you’ll have an excuse –
not enough time – to be less than perfect.
The argument goes that really successful people achieve
their goals because they’re unafraid of failure. They fall off the horse... then they get back on and try again. Eventually they get where they want to be. I’ve often argued
that the reason I didn’t make it as a professional writer is that I didn’t push myself enough. Every rejection letter was a kick in the teeth. Many of
my contemporaries who did succeed in that field lost all their teeth but just
kept growing new ones. I don’t believe they were better writers than me. They
were just better at recovering from a kicking, or as Jennifer Shannon puts it…
…relatively few high achievers expect perfectionism from
themselves.
Just everyday problems Find a way of bringin' you down But if you want it bad enough Find a way of turning it around You find a way of turning it around
There's one thing that'll beat failing That's trying If anybody tells you different They gotta be lying
A former colleague (notably more successful than me
in most aspects of her life, but also a major screw-up in certain areas) used
to swear by a popular self-help book of the late 80s / early 90s called Feel
The Fear & Do It Anyway. She adopted the book’s title as her mantra and it
appeared to serve her well. Cynical moi used to pour scorn on the very notion,
but the more I read about the way our brain works against us, the more I’m
coming to accept the wisdom in that mantra.
Oh baby, here comes the fear again, oh-oh The end is near again, oh-oh A monkey's built a house on your back You can't get anyone to come in the sack And here comes another panic attack, oh Here we go again
When we allow for some risk, we give ourselves more choices
and we prepare ourselves for when things go wrong. If we deny ourselves the
privilege of being wrong or failing, we’ll be unable to take the risks that are
necessary for meeting our personal goals. This is why, in addition to anxiety,
perfectionism is associated with depression, procrastination, addiction and low
self-esteem.
Failure hurts though. It’s not just a metaphorical kicking,
it can feel as painful, as brutal, as any physical assault. I remember when I
was applying for my current job. There was a moment when an obstacle was placed
in my way which seemed insurmountable. All the hope I’d placed in this one
opportunity, this lifeline escape from the mental misery of The Bad Place… and
now it looked like it was all a pipe dream. I actually collapsed on the floor
like I’d been punched in the stomach. I remember sitting there in abject
despair… feeling actual physical pain.
Somehow though, I managed to pick myself up and try to find
a solution. I still don’t know where I found that impetus. It doesn’t come
naturally. Maybe for some people, you only get it when you hit rock bottom.
Steady on, now ladies of a certain age... if you're Looking Through The Eyes of Love this morning, now's not the time to become a Daydreamer. We have serious business here - namely, the answers to yesterday morning's Saturday Snapshots.
Very quick recap today as I feel proper done in on Saturday night, so no time for the usual shout-outs, I'm afraid, other than to say 'Welcome back, Lynchie' and apologise to Chris if this was a hard one. Every week somebody different says it's a hard one, so that must be variety, eclecticism or maybe I'm just running out of 'easy ones'.
If I Didn't Care, I'd wouldn't reveal the answers right now...
10. Inheriting the chocolate factory made him a millionaire... now all he needs is the perfect woman!
That's another of those song that claims to be the first rock 'n' roll record ever (there are hundreds of them). Brian seconded The Swede's suggestion... and Alyson thirded it. But I swore no more peer pressure this week.
The Swede also directed us back to the aforementioned Bonnie Prince Billy' cover... "or preferably the first version I ever heard of the song by The Trammps - discotastic!" I'll throw in this country version by Roberta Lee & Hardrock Gunter from my own collection. I'm sure there are many more. (You may prefer Rigid Digit's suggestion of Ivor Biggun's version... or maybe not.)
This week's winner was chosen as a rebuttal to all those many, many posts I write about growing older, sharing my Mid-Life Crisis with you all. It might also cheer up those of you who are a good few years older than me... or perhaps not, if you listen too closely.
Nils Lofgren - 60 Is The New 18
There's an obvious winner for next week in my head... and a less obvious runner-up. I'll be interested to see what you can come up with for 59 though...
So much for your journey of self-discovery
You had to cut it short, forgot your credit card
The decree nisi came through this morning
And I just called to say I’m gonna feed our children non-organic food
I’m gonna feed our children non-organic food
I’m gonna feed our children non-organic food
And with the money saved take ‘em to the zoo
OK, not actually about a fairground - just the argumentative acrimony of a marriage gone bad. What it lacks in candyfloss and waltzers, it makes up for in its closing line...
Not long now before lollipop men are called Darren
Hey all you suckers
I heard a fat woman say
Come on in for fifty cents
You can stay in here all day
So I took a chance
I went inside
Wasn't much there to see
So I asked her for my money back
And she just smiled at me...
This ends up being the worst fifty cents John ever spent...
My mama said don't go There's nothing for you there I stroll across the road I'm heading for the fair The music, endless sound Of candy floss and love...
Elvis Costello strands Roy alone at the top of a ferris wheel, forcing him to watch as his girl does the dirty on him below. Comedy and tragedy: The Big O at his best.
Not about a fairground as such, unless you count the New York World's Fair of 1939... however, too amazing a song to leave off the list. If you've never heard Aimee's debut album, Whatever... treat yourself.
I make no apologies for having featured this here before... I'll probably feature it here again. It is a tune of sublime beauty
And me I just got tired of hangin' in them dusty arcades
Bangin' them pleasure machines
Chasin' the factory girls underneath the boardwalk where
They all promise to unsnap their jeans
And you know that tilt-a-whirl down on the south beach drag
I got on it last night and my shirt got caught
And he kept me spinnin', I didn't think I'd ever get off
1. The Smiths - Rusholme Ruffians
One of their finest, with Johnny borrowing liberally from (Marie's The Name Of) His Latest Flame.
The last night of the fair By the big wheel generator A boy is stabbed And his money is grabbed And the air hangs heavy like a dulling whine
Morrissey, naturally, walks home alone... but his faith in love is still devout.
Ten fairground attractions... but which do you consider perfect?
