Three more records that rotated frequently on the imaginary turntable of my soul during the past twelve months...
21. Mercury Rev - Born Horses
"Spiritually, literally, psycho-geographically: where else does Mercury Rev's ninth album Born Horses spring from? This cascade of gleaming, glistening psych-jazz-folk-baroque-ambient quest that searches its soul but can never truly know the answer? A sound and vision linked to their exalted past whilst quite unlike anything they have created before? The answer is somewhere between the homes of founder members Jonathan Donahue (the hamlet of Mt Tremper) and Grasshopper (the town of Kingston), in their veins and brains of their now-legendary tapping of musical cosmology, and the vital presence of new permanent member Marion Genser (keys), plus long-term ally Jesse Chandler (keys) and guests Jeff Lipstein (drums), Martin Keith (double bass) and Jim Burgess (trumpet)."
Normally, I'd call bullshit on that kind of florid press-release gumphery, but there's actually something in it.
Three things I can tell you for definite about the latest Mercury Rev record.
1) If such a thing is possible, it's even more shimmery than anything else they've recorded in the past 35 years.
2) Jonathan's preferred delivery these days is a low, spoken, stream-of-consciousness blather. He sounds like an older, less camp version of 80s American stand-up comic Emo Phillips. Remember him?
3) It's very nice to listen to when you're stuck in traffic on the M1.
My mood swings and it swings and it swings Sometimes even without asking me Suddenly reminding me of deep down things The way my mother would sing over my father's mood swings How swiftly she could go from humming "Just the way, the way you are" To whistling, "Oh, the people you know" This immense loneliness flapping in her chest Like lady day, she knew why the caged bird sings And now, so do I, it sings and it sings Because each night it hurts just a little less Reminding me more and more and more Of deep down things And the way my own mood swings
20. Frank Turner - Undefeated
Frank Turner's last album, FTHC, was my second favourite record of 2022, beaten only by the might of Half Man Half Biscuit. Undefeated treads much the same ground as its predecessor... at times, a little too closely. It feels too conscious an effort to capture that same lightning in that same bottle, and ends up being, in places, FT-by numbers. Still full of great songs and lyrics that bring a wry smile of recognition... but no risks are taken in the process.
I'm fully aware that this contradicts everything I said yesterday in my reviews of the Eels and Pixies records... but hey, Frank, you placed above both those guys, so you must still be doing something right.
Fifteen-year-old Francis We need to have a word I know because I remember That you cannot stand The Verve But Richard Ashcroft had a point Now I'm old enough to see There's a million different people You will be before you're me
I know I'm not Everything that you had hoped and imagined that I would be But I did my best And I have seen things that you don't even know that you've never seen We need to find some common ground In the ruins that still stand Between you and me both of us want peace Ceasefire
19. Crawlers - The Mess We Seem To Make
The first CD I bought in 2024 was the debut album by Warrington's Crawlers. It seems so long ago now, like it should belong to last year's batch. Fiercely confessional lyrics from lead singer Holly Minto, and a pop-rock sound that's a little more polished than some of their contemporaries. The deluxe CD contains acoustic versions of some of the tracks, and I like those even more than the originals.
I'm writing this because it's the only way I can talk to you now, and I really wanted to tell you that I found out something that puzzled us for years! I know who killed Joey Salvo.
Maybe you'll never read this - I don't know if I believe in any kind of afterlife that allows you to watch over those you've left behind... I mean, I want to, because it'd make you being gone (and one day, me being gone) so much easier to deal with... but it could just be one of the great white lies we tell ourselves to make the futility of existence not as futile as it might otherwise seem. And I mean, even if you are looking down on me, or just checking in occasionally to make sure I'm not messing up completely, the chances of you reading my blog - any blog! - are pretty much zilch. Did you ever even look at the internet? I think maybe you watched the occasional tractor video on youtube if someone found it and started it playing for you. As someone born in 1929, you didn't quite get the appeal of all this new fangled technology... and I'm not sure you were wrong.
Likewise, I'm not sure you ever read anything I wrote... but then again, I never showed you anything. For years, I always thought, "when I get something published, then I'll show it to Mum and Dad," but that never happened, did it? I knew you'd have been proud... but you were proud of me anyway. You never told me what to do or what not to do, you let me find my own way, and I always appreciated that. When I got my A Levels and told you I wanted to pack in education and go work in a radio station for peanuts, you never told me I was wasting my life. Then when I found a way to keep doing that and go back to Uni, I know it pleased you, and I could tell how proud you were the day I graduated. The writing was the same - all those hours I spent up in my room at the old typewriter, word processor, computer... a lot of parents would have been up knocking on the door telling me to get out and get a life. But if I was happy doing what I was doing, that was enough for you. I knew you were always there for me when I needed you, and you'd have done anything for me - when I called you from Bradford at 2am to say my first car had broken down and I couldn't get home from work, you got out of bed, drove 45 minutes in the middle of the night and towed me home. No complaints. That was just what Dads were for. I know I thanked you, but I'm not sure I ever thanked you enough.
None of that is why I'm writing to you today though. No, I'm writing about NYPD Blue. Remember how that was always our favourite TV show? We didn't connect on a lot of popular culture - you never cared for Marvel or Star Wars and certainly not pop music, though you would always watch Die Hard when it showed at Christmas, and that made me happy. NYPD Blue though, that was the one thing we really agreed on. I don't think we ever watched it together, because in my early 20s when the show started, I was either out at work or I watched the little portable TV up in my room. (Plus there were quite a few racy bits in that show, and who wants to watch TV sex scenes with their parents?)
I can remember the odd occasion we'd be watching it live "together" (me upstairs, you down) and I could hear you laughing from the living room at some sarcastic remark Andy Sipowicz made to a skell, or the little sly glances between characters that spoke volumes and made us both crack up. We both loved Dennis Franz who played Andy, a wonderful example of a flawed hero. When the show started, Detective Sipowicz was a cranky, alcoholic bigot. Over the course of the next twelve years, he suffered more adversity than any fictional character deserved - including losing his son, his wife and his best friend - but he also went through a redemptive arc that I believe is unparalleled in popular fiction.
It took us both a while to follow Andy's story through to the end as Channel 4 inexplicably stopped showing NYPD Blue sometime in the late 90s. The final seasons eventually cropped up on More4 when that channel launched in 2005 and I know you stayed up late to watch it every weeknight, while I had to catch up on video when I wasn't at work. We'd still chat about it when I saw you at the weekend - how about when Andy said such and such? The look he gave another character across the crowded squad room. It's weird the things that bond a father and son, but even now when I watch the show on Disney+, it makes me think of you. And when it makes me laugh, I want to share that with you like I did back then.
All of which brings me to Joey Salvo. I'm sure you remember, Dad, at the end of Season 4, there was a pretty big cliffhanger. Andy's partner, Bobby Simone (played by the always excellent Jimmy Smits) had been caught up in a sting operation involving the FBI and Internal Affairs. A gangster called Joey Salvo, who Bobby knew from his past, had a mole in the police department, and the various agencies were using Bobby as a pawn to expose the leak. Bobby ended up suspended and his career was on the line, but still nobody could prove the identity of Salvo's informant. The season ended with Bobby meeting Salvo on a street corner in a last ditch effort to uncover the mole... and then, out of nowhere, shots were fired and Salvo was killed. A few seconds later, a car screeched up and it was Andy, Bobby's partner, asking if he was OK. Did Andy shoot Salvo to get Bobby out of an impossible situation? That was certainly the inference... but would Andy really do that? His character walked a thin line a lot of the time, he was immensely loyal to his partner and had no time for the FBI or the Rat Squad... but would he really resort to murder? It seemed unlikely to both of us, Dad, but we were going to have to wait till the next series to find out...
Except, when Season 5 began the following year, something really odd happened. You saw it first and I remember you coming to me and saying how it'd all started up again without any mention of the cliffhanger. Bobby was back in his job, the FBI and Internal Affairs weren't present, nobody even mentioned Joey Salvo. It didn't make any sense. It was like we'd both missed an episode... and clearly that's exactly what happened, though I still find it hard to believe, because back then we both checked the TV Times religiously to see when our favourite show was back on air. Part of me wonders if Channel 4 ditched the opening episode because they didn't consider all the back-story would make for a good jumping on point for new viewers. I wouldn't put anything past them - they didn't treat NYPD Blue fans with a great deal of respect during the time they were airing the show.
Anyway, Dad, the point of all this is that I finally got to watch the episode we never saw. And I can tell you that Joey Salvo was shot by the head of Internal Affairs - he was the mole! He was caught after trying to shoot Andy and he eventually confessed to everything. Neither you nor I thought Andy was the shooter, but there was always an unresolved question mark... and I wish you were still here so I could tell you what happened or show you the episode we missed. I only hope that somehow via some kind of unknown magic of the universe that science doesn't yet understand, somehow you can read what I've written today and know that I love you and I miss you and that Andy Sipowicz is still our hero.
But just to broaden John's horizons a little, I thought I'd offer this one instead...
Squeeze appear to have stumbled into a Robert Palmer video there. Isn't it glorious? I'm also impressed that the subtitles tell me that "jazzy music plays" before the singing starts. I'm sure that'll make Messrs Tifford and Dilbrook's day.
And if that wasn't enough for you, here's a couple of alternative takes on that song...
One of the reasons I can't watch shows like Strictly or the X-Factor or any kind of talent-based performance TV is that I can't bear all the cheering. It sets my nerves on edge even when I hear it from the other room (which is where I'm usually consigned to when Louise and/or Sam is watching such fluffle). Particularly when I hear a cheering audience on a TV show, it all sounds so false. I picture some guy stood at the side of the stage holding up a "Cheer Now!" sign because the cheering never sounds sincere or spontaneous... it sounds like a performance in its own right.
It's the same thing at gigs. I've got no problem with applause - I'll stand up and clap with the best of them. But I never feel the urge to cheer... and I'd certainly never entertain the bastard son of the cheer: the whoop. But this does make me wonder... am I not enjoying the gig as much as the people who have to vocalise it in such fashion? Are their uncontrollable outbursts a sign that they're engaging with this experience on a much deeper level than I am? Is there something wrong with me?
...although that is up there as one of my all-time favourite theme tunes, from one of my all-time favourite TV shows. It makes me feel warm inside whenever I hear it. But this, while also being very good, has nothing to do with that...
We've heard from doctors and scientists and all manner of self-help experts over the past few weeks on this feature, but as it was half term last week and I was taking it easy (if only!), I figured we might listen to a couple of experts from the world of rock n roll for a change.
Let's start with a recommendation from Charity Chic, on whose advice I tracked down a copy of Steve Forbert's 1992 album, The American In Me. (I think it was CC who pointed me in Steve's direction, but I could be misremembering.) I was only really familiar with Mr. Forbert from his 1979 US hit Romeo's Tune, back when he was still a whipper-snapper, so it was nice to hear some of his later work. Perhaps his biggest claim to fame is that he played the part of Cyndi Lauper's boyfriend in the video to Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. That's him, turning up at the end, holding a bunch of flowers and trying to make himself heard over the racket...
Here's a song of Steve's that certainly struck a chord with me...
You've got a lotta detail in your life, of late you find Hey, now that you got kids, well, things loom larger in your mind You make your best decisions in the time that you're allowed And still get caught at Christmas in that final countdown crowd
It's always problems everywhere, you're juggling everyone You do your best each day but when the sun goes down it's done, it's done And then what slips through the cracks is just gonna go ahead and fall Don't let it keep you up nights when you know my friend You cannot win 'em all, oh no
Exterminator, lawyer, doctor, daycare, dental bill Hey, now that you're essential, have you made yourself a will? You gotta have insurance just to drive your car to work And wind up down in court with some bad actor, neck brace jerk
It's always problems everywhere, you're juggling everyone You do your best each day but when the sun goes down it's done, it's done And then what slips through the cracks is just gonna go ahead and fall Don't let it keep you up nights when you know my friend You cannot win 'em all, oh no
Can't no one stop that airport that they're building over there? Those planes won't hardly clear your trees and noise will fill the air So set your sights on silent nights and greener pastures still So much for your retirement dreams on Oakview Pleasant Hill
It's always problems everywhere, you're juggling everyone You do your best each day but when the sun goes down it's done, it's done And then what slips through the cracks is just gonna go ahead and fall Don't let it keep you up nights when you know my friend You cannot win 'em all, oh no, oh no
Wise words, mate, to quote famous DJ Dave Nice.
Frank Turner's got a new record out this year. After a few middling efforts, his previous album, FTHC, was one of the best he's yet delivered. It went to Number One in the album charts and appears to have given him a renewed sense of what's it all about. Here's some typically Turner-esque advice from the lead single of the new offering...
Some people are just going to hate you,
No matter what you do.
So don't waste your time trying to change their minds –
Just be a better you.
It took me years to learn this
(More than I’d like to admit)
But through my ups and downs I figured one thing out:
Don’t take anyone’s shit
I’m still standing up and there’s nothing you can do.
I’m still standing up.
Some people will search for your weaknesses –
They’ll go to any lengths.
But if you find them first you can take that hurt
And turn it into a strength.
And you’ll wonder why they’re so unkind,
And how they sleep at night,
But that simple fact means you’re better than that –
I think you’re going to be alright.
So which path to choose?
The one less travelled or the one more used?
All the sticks and stones, all the broken bones,
It’s not who you are it’s the things you choose to do.
Finally, my favourite band of the 21st Century are back, although I'm clearly the only person in the world who feels that way. Jeff Tweedy thinks there's a lot to be said for liking bands that nobody else likes (or have even heard of), but I still wish The Indelicates could get more than 79 views on the tube of you for a song as good as this. Also, in terms of defining post-20th Century middle-aged angst, I think "We're living in the wreckage of the bombs that never dropped" is as fine a chorus as you're going to hear this year.
I'm not sure Simon Indelicate has any self help advice to offer us, but it's good to know I'm not alone in feeling like this...
Well, I saw this thing that my nephew posted on Facebook
It said: "Scientists prove your life flashes before your eyes before you die"
I've hardly slept since I saw that on Facebook
I don't think I can stand the disappointment a second time
For as long as I've had a blog, I've filled most of December with a year end countdown of my favourite albums (and on my old blog, I used to do films, books, TV shows and comics too).
Since 2018, I've been doing a list as long as the final number in the year - 18 for 2018, 19 for 2019... last year, it was my Top 22 of 2022, but I think it's fair to say that the top four at least were all better records than anything I've heard this year.
That's not to say it's been a bad year for music. A lot of my favourite artists have put out new discs (or, in Kevin Morby's case, not bothered to put them on a disc at all, just plonked them on the interweb), but none of those records felt like they came from performers at the very top of their game. Unlike the ones I selected by Half Man Half Biscuit, Frank Turner, Craig Finn and American Aquarium this time last year.
I'm also frustrated by the fact that December is never the best time to decide your favourite albums of the past year, since you're still listening to half of them and haven't even heard a bunch more. A good example of this is that I just managed to squeeze the most recent First Aid Kit album into my Top Ten last year after only a few listens. I then continued to listen to it well into the summer, by which time my appreciation had rocketed - it's equally as good as any of the records mentioned above.
Anyway, the way I feel right now is that there's been a lot of great songs this year, but not as many great collections of songs. (This opinion may well have changed by next March.) Many of the old faithfuls delivered, but didn't quite scale previous heights. That doesn't bother me - I'm not one of those people who expects every record to be better than the last one. But I just didn't think I could subject you all to 23 reviews of 23 albums I liked, but didn't quite love. I managed to cobble together a Top Ten, just like in the old days (sometimes I have to remind myself what this blog is called), but the rest of the time between now and the end of the year, I'm just going so share some of my favourite songs. Like this one...
Spanish Love Songs - Lifers
Spanish Love Songs are one of those cool hipster bands that Ben likes and he's gradually been persuading me to do the same. I was particularly impressed with their song The Boy Considers His Hair Cut, which I featured on a Self-Loathing Friday just over a year ago. And their new album, No Joy... well, that's clearly a no-brainer. They remind me a little bit of Ezra Furman doing their best attempt at Springsteen, or (don't tell Ben) The Killers back when they were cool. And then the write lyrics like these...
It's the notion that your body is never gonna change
The baby fat that's hiding in your cheeks won't fade
And you're not sure why, but when you leave the house you circle the block to cry
And these...
So do you think that we'll outrun it?
Get past the pain of simply being?
Every time you want out of your body
Or can't get your head around this dream
You swore you loved it more
When you couldn't guess the end
It's never adding up
But don't write yourself out of the equation
Is 51 a good time to turn Emo?
Meanwhile, as I mentioned First Aid Kit above, I might as well throw this in to close today, a song in which they help out one of their recent tour-mates on backing vocals. Lola Kirke is a singer and actress (quite successful, it appears, though I can't claim to have seen anything she's been in). Born in London, raised in New York, yet she makes sparkly Americana that verges on good old fashioned Country & Western. George Strait, I'm sure, would approve of the song title below. Judging from the video though, Lola is probably spending time in Alcatraz for indecent exposure. Hopefully she'll be back out soon...
Lola Kirke feat. First Aid Kit - All My Exes Live In LA
Everything I know about Dr. Samuel Johnson, I learned from Blackadder. As an English teacher, I can say with some authority that it's really all you need to know. Except that he once wrote that, "when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life". And if that's the case, I know a hell of a lot of people who are fed up with living.
Over the last year, I have encountered a couple of fine songs that reference the first man in dictionary corner... so I was sure I'd be able to find some more with a little digging.
Meanwhile, today's finest discovery are called Tankus The Henge. Yes, they are.
Well there's old Dr. Johnson with a hole in his eye He don't know how to fight, but he knows how to die There's someone outside in the corridor now Pulls open the shutter, and takes a bow The window to the track is rivetted shut Poor old Dr .Johnson he ain't got much luck As the ticket inspector come along for the dead And sees the curves of a girl silhouetted instead
Now, when I extended my search to include Johnson's famous quote about London, all kind of things crawled out of the woodwork. All kinds of Dirty Pretty Things for a start...
How can they be tired of London? The scents in the air on a warm day Generation of hope that sees better days But moving along in the same old ways
The two artists I had in mind when I decided to feature Dr. Johnson here both mention him by name and reference his love of the capital... though they do seem to disagree with that quote somewhat.
Dr. Samuel Johnson You were very nearly right I was tired of London But I would never tire of life
That's not the album version, but a lovely live recording featuring Chris T-T on piano.
The Grim Reaper has been so busy lately, I'm having to do triple time.
GLENDA JACKSON
Women In Love. A Touch of Class. The Morecambe & Wise Christmas Show. Was there anything Glenda Jackson couldn't do? And that was before she became a Labour MP in the Blair government... though she went on to be openly critical of her boss, the war-mongering liar, so that's OK too.
Let's forgive Glenda for the film that gave its title to a song by The Irish Band and listen instead to Scouse band Noctorum...
And here's one of my heroes, the great Warren Zevon, with an early draft of his biggest hit...
I saw Oliver Reed walking with Glenda Jackson
They were doing nothing, ha!
I did find a couple of tracks that mentioned Glenda in the title, by bands called Hooker and Fish From Tahiti. Sadly, I couldn't find them online. So I'm left with this...
Treat Williams came to fame playing Danny Zuko in the 1972
Broadway production of Grease, but I guess he was too old for the role by the
time they got around to casting the movie. Having said that, Travolta was only
three years younger, so who knows. Williams enjoyed a pretty respectable career
in the movies, across all genres, though I pretty much think of him as a
B-movie guy from shlocky fluff like The Phantom and Deep Rising. That is, the kind of movies my brain prefers.
Here’s Swedish rapper Niello…
Och dansa, dansa
psycho Som Treat Williams
på ditt middagsbord
Which translates thus…
And dance, dance
psycho Like Treat
Williams on your dinner table
The ultimate tribute to Treat comes from John Grant…
He could call me
up If he wants to
chat You know I waited
so long Now I'm up to bat He's no Treat
Williams, but neither am I It might be
wishful thinkin', but you got to try
CORMAC McCARTHY
There is an American folk singer called Cormac McCarthy, but he's not the one who left us this month. Still, because he's worth a listen...
I've only read one book by the other Cormac McCarthy, but it was a doozy. That said, I'm not sure I would rush to read The Road again, because as engaging as it was, it was also pretty grim. Here's a song inspired by that Pulitzer Prize-winning novel...
Now for some Math(s) rock. Which sounds to me like when you're listening to one track on your computer but another track is still playing in the background and you don't realise.
And finally... I feel like I've come across The Burning Hell before, yet a quick trawl through the search box reveals no past blog references. Regardless, this is my favourite song of the day, and possibly the week.
The band was as blue as the melted Joni Mitchell cassette
On the dash of the van they had nicknamed regret
Touring round the United Kingdom
Selling compact discs to the people of England
And Wales and Scotland,
Oh it’s hard to be a rock band these days
People like to spend their evenings in different ways
The road is a lot like the Cormac McCarthy book
Less cannibalism but a similar look
There’s nothing more post-apocalyptic
Than a landscape of truck stops and rock critics
To paraphrase Joni on the first track of that melted cassette
When Frank Turner started talking about his need to “restate
his purpose as an artist” on his ninth album, there was a clear danger of him
disappearing up his own arse. Much as I like Frank, there’s always a
danger of him going full-Bono, such is the self-belief that’s driven his career
so far. Fortunately, that self-belief is tempered with a healthy dollop of
insecurity, and when Frank lets that show, he’s a far more appealing prospect.
On FTHC, following a couple of records on which he dabbled in Radio 2 pleasing
pop-rock and feminist folk rock (both well-intentioned, just not quite hitting
the mark), Frank really did go back to basics, delivering his most enjoyable
record to date… even if it does start off a little bit shouty.
This anthem for not serving The Man hearkens back to the very
beginnings of Frank’s career in punk band Million Dead, and it’s an appropriate
opener as so much of this album is about growing older and the changes that
come with it. He’s over 40 now, recently married, and perhaps most telling of
all, has left his home in London for a quieter life in the sticks. All of these
seismic changes are touched upon here, along with his struggles with
addiction, the loss of old friends and more.
I got tired of London, not tired of life
I’m so sorry, my darling, to leave you behind
We had a hell of a run there, I must go down to the sea
While you’re always changing
It wasn’t you, it was me
I’m sorry about the argument at the weekend
I should have listened to what you said in the first place
And I should have been your friend
But I finally tidied up the garage like you asked me
I put some laundry on
Both our clothes this time and not just mine
When they closed down the restaurants, boarded up the bars
We moved out of the city, bought a second hand car
Tried to figure out standing still, for the first time in a long, long time
Cut back on the sleeping pills, and the overkill, and the overtime
I guess that this little life
Is gonna have to do
It’s only a little life
Mostly just me and you
Frank’s turbulent relationship with his father is also a
focus, from his early life when he felt completely abandoned…
Well, here’s a tale I’ve not yet told
I was evicted when I was 8 years old
I was shipped off to a dormitory
Full of kids who made no sense to me
And I cried myself to sleep each night
For 3 straight weeks until I was dead inside
But I’m not asking for your pity
It’s just that fairytales about fathers make me angry
…to the starling changes that led to a late-life
reconciliation between father and son…
My father’s called Miranda these days
She’s a proud transgender woman
And my resentment has started to fade
‘Cause it was never about who she was
Just the way that he behaved
And now my father is Miranda
And we’re okay
In truth, this is one of those records where I could quote
every lyric, because there’s not a dull song and they’ve all had some effect on
me. It could well have been my record of the year, were it not for some old
friends who actually managed to turn the dial up to 11. But that
shouldn’t diminish Frank’s achievement, because he’s truly delivered on the promise
of his fabled rock n roll beliefs in this album, baring his soul to touch hearts and minds, and
make you want to pump your fist in the air in defiance and celebration. Two
tracks in particular seal the deal for me…
It struck me that I haven’t yet marked the passing of the last of the original rock n rollers, Jerry Lee Lewis. Chuck, Buddy, Gene, Eddie, Elvis… all the rest are long gone. Some died very young (I often find myself wondering what Buddy Holly would have done next), but only Jerry Lee got to really grow old disgracefully. A controversial figure, to be sure, but there’s no denying the power of his music.
For songs that mention Jerry Lee by name, we need look no further than Jerry Lee himself. Here are just a few…
Well, I’ve took enough pills for big Memphis town Ol’ Jerry Lee's drank enough whiskey to lift any ship off the ground I’ll be the first to admit Sure do wish these people would quit it You know it’s tough enough To straighten up When these idiots won’t leave you alone Jerry Lee Lewis’s life would make a damned good country song
Jerry Lee is going to spend his vacation in Heaven With loved ones gone on before Jerry Lee It’ll be Jesus, my saviour Forever and ever Please spend your vacation with me
See? He’s not really gone. Just taking an extended vacation.
What about other songwriters? What do they have to say about Jerry Lee?
He digs Jerry Lee Lewis, Dion and The Belmonts, And Johnny and The Hurricanes.
In case you’re keeping score, Johnny Paris died in 2006. Dion DiMucci, on the other hand, is still with us. I guess he might be the last man standing now. (Unless we count Willie Nelson, 6 years older than Dion and still going strong.)
The late Ian Dury also placed Jerry Lee in some very fine company…
From Rosemary Clooney to Jerry Lee Lewis From Debussy to Thelonious Monk It’s the modern art of the human heart The shape of things to funk, funk, funk
And here’s a song that name-drops everyone from Creedence to Otis to Missy Elliott to Korn. Chances are this one will pop up again.
Jerry Lee Lewis had a child bride Only thirteen, but he said he's justified
Indie rocker Ike Reilly writes lyrics more suited to a rap song, but though he’s been described as “rude, crude and lewd”, he also has something to say, and does so in quite a clever way.
Chuck Berry, Cadillac, Ludacris, Cadillac Jerry Lee Lewis with his balls on fire In the back of a Rocket 88 With an out-of-state plate and an underage date Cars and girls and drinks and songs Leave that shit in the middle of the road What about love and what about trust?
And that’s not the only trouble Jerry Lee got into. Remember the time he shot his bass player? (It was an accident, apparently, but he still got sued.)
"Soon I discovered that this rock thing was true Jerry Lee Lewis was the devil Jesus was an architect previous to his career as a prophet All of a sudden, I found myself in love with the world So there was only one thing that I could do Was ding a ding dang my dang a long ling long"
Then again, you could argue that’s what made him interesting! More interesting than a lot of young rock stars these days…
But this is the song I chose to close with today. Because Frank Turner understands the spirit of rock n roll that Jerry embodied. And just like I do, Frank still believes…
And I still believe In the saints Yeah, in Jerry Lee and in Johnny And all the greats
