I like to pick a couple of obscure acts for Snapshots every week, just to stretch your braincells. But this Aussie band might have been pushing the obscurity factor a bit much, even for Ernie.
I had a load more, but you're probably getting sick of them now, so let's finish today with the song that almost tipped Ernie off to this week's answer, and probably helped Parsley The Goat clinch it.
The coffee in my travel mug tasted off. Maybe I hadn’t
rinsed the Fairy Liquid out properly, or maybe it was just that off-tasting
water you get in the kettle sometimes, no real explanation for
it. Whatever the cause, I couldn’t handle the commute without a coffee, so I
decided to stop at the Co-Op petrol station and get a machine Costa. It was
Friday morning, the roads were quiet and Google Maps was telling me the journey
would only take an hour today, not 75 minutes, so an extortionately priced
“Signature Blend” was, if not exactly enticing, then at least better than
washing up water.
As I walked across the forecourt, a grubby-looking White Van
Man sprinted past me, clearly eager to pay for his petrol and be about his day,
ogling young women, driving aggressively close to other motorists, and
screaming obscenities at both. Except… that wasn’t why he was in such a rush.
Oh no. He wanted to get to the coffee machine first. Clearly he’d seen the look
on my face, assessed my need, and decided his was greater. Either that or he
was just an arsehole.
And so, I had to waste my time pretending to scour the Meal
Deal sandwiches, while standing just close enough behind him to be in a sort of
queue if anyone else with a desperate murder-you need for caffeine should try
to butt in. And of course, White Van Man didn’t just want one machine coffee,
he wanted three. My life was slowly ebbing away. And then he was done. At last,
I stepped up to the machine to order my elixir… and that’s when I noticed.
No big cups.
Only the small ones.
I stormed out of the Co-Op in a huff, back to my car, and my
off-tasting travel mug. Which didn’t taste so bad now, to be honest. Actually,
it was all right.
Laurie Shaw is another artist I discovered through compiling
those interminable posts about songs that randomly mention pop culture
ephemera. He’s from the Wirral but currently resides in Cork. He’s incredibly
prolific, having recorded over 100 albums according to bandcamp (7 of which
were released in 2022), and the one with the best title is If You’re So Good,
Then Why Haven’t I Heard Of You? Lately I've been very much enjoying Weird
Weekends, which sounds a lot like pre-fame Pulp. Slightly sordid tales of
yearning adolescent misadventures set to a lo-fi indie soundtrack. He’s even
mastered the Jarvis yelp. Quite wonderful. He's a wonderfully natural storyteller...
We were in your room And we were listening to your mum’s old records You put the White Album on And said this was their magnum opus I didn’t know what you meant But I could see down your vest And then the grooves got out of focus
“There’s a party on on Saturday night, You should come” I said “I’d love to, but the lift in’s a pain For my mum” She said “well, you could stay at mine And it might coincide with my mum Doing nights in the hospital”
If you’ve not caught it yet, Poker Face is very good. It’s
by the guy he does the Knives Out movies and it's basically Columbo for the 21st
Century. Natasha Lyonne brings her typically ramshackle Top Cat chutzpah to the
role of a human lie detector on the run, stumbling across murders wherever she
goes, then bumbling her way to delivering some kind of justice. Highly implausible, but
very entertaining, and Lyonne is a natural successor to the legendary Peter
Falk. Good soundtrack too, including…
My brother lost his wallet in the pub last week. I don’t
talk about my brother much, but here’s all you need to know to understand this
story: he’s a retired builder. Now when I tell you that there was £700 cash in
his wallet when he lost it… well, I just need to refer you back to the previous
sentence.
When he realised his wallet was missing, he returned to the
hostelry in question and asked if anyone had handed it in. They hadn’t, but the
staff were happy to take a look at the CCTV. Sure enough, there was my brother
enjoying his meal, and – whoops! – there goes his wallet onto the floor. Fast
forward to after he’s left the pub and another couple take his table. And… oh,
look, what’s this on the floor? Oh, it’s a wallet. I wonder what’s inside?
Well, we better keep that safe… tell you what, why not put in your handbag just
in case anyone unscrupulous should find it?
The police were informed, but my brother’s partner also
decided to enlist the help of the Local Vigilante Action Syndicate (aka
Facebook), posting a CCTV still of the woman with the wallet and asking if
anyone could identify her.
A few hours later, they received a private message.
“That’s my sister. We haven’t spoken in 20 years since she
shacked up with a former MP who’s also a paedophile, but she still lives next
door to me. Here’s the address…”
Rather than pass this information onto the police (see
paragraph #1), my brother instead chose to drive round to the address in
question… but there was nobody in. So he put a note through the door with his
phone number. I don’t know what the note said exactly, but something along the
lines of “Give me my wallet back and I won’t shop you to the bizzies.” Not that
my brother’s a Scouser, I just miss Jimmy Corkhill. A little while later he
received a phone call and was invited round for tea.
Well, not tea, but he did get his wallet and all its
contents back. When asked why the couple hadn’t handed it in to the bar, they
replied, “Oh, we didn’t like the look of the bar staff.”
Don’t ask me why, but I’ve been listening to Grand Funk
Railroad’s Greatest Hits lately. They’re a good time rock ‘n’ roll band, not
quite up there with Steve Miller’s lot, but ploughing a similar furrow. For
some reason, I always thought they were from Canada, which doesn’t make any
sense since their biggest hit was We’re An American Band, but logic was
never my forte. Here’s my favourite track from the compilation, originally
taken from the album 1974 album All The Girls In The World Beware!! Ah, the
70s…
Malkmus goes jazz. It makes sense on the album, and Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain is arguably the very best Pavement album. There is a rare version with vocals, but I think I prefer the instrumental... and you won't hear me say that very often. Yeah, I know the 5-4 is a time signature, not a subtraction... but it looks enough like a sum to make the grade.
Of course, this track owes a huge debt to my Number #2 this week... but we'll get to that soon enough.
Britpop casualties, though this out-take from their second album (released only on the Japanese version) stands up strong, if you like that Suede-y sound. Marion are touring the 20th anniversary of their debut record this month. It's good to see there's life in the old dogs yet.
Ralph, Pooch, Tubby, Butch and Tiny give it their all in this triumphant disco anthem. Not as good as Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel or Whodunit, but few things are.
80s cod-reggae McCartney: do I apologise now or later? Look, it's got George Martin on keyboards! Look, it's got Ringo on drums! Look, it's got John Hurt in the video! Look it's got...
How is it possible to be so annoyed by one smugly-slappable star yet find so many of his songs addictive? I wish I understood pop music.
I'm not the world's biggest jazz fan, and certainly no expert, but I won't turn away any genre in my search for a good tune. And Take Five is more than a good tune. It's a masterpiece.
Plus, the composer, Paul Desmond, left the royalties to charity on his death. The American Red Cross make around a hundred grand a year off this song (and other, less famous compositions Desmond bequeathed them).
1. Frank Sinatra - They Can't Take That Away From Me
George & Ira Gershwin. Frank Sinatra at his peak. It doesn't much get better than this.
Of course, there are many other fine versions, by the likes of Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Billie Holliday, Natalie Cole, Tony Bennett, Robbie Willia--
