Of course, this got me thinking of my own childhood, of Saturday afternoons watching Big Daddy, Giant Haystacks, Mick McManus, Mark “Rollerball” Rocco and Kendo Nagasaki on TV... easy! Easy! Easy! EASY!!!
I mentioned these to my Mum, who added one perfect detail I'd never heard before. "Me and your dad went to watch the wrestling when we were on our honeymoon in Skegness." So a love of wrestling has been in our family from the early 1950s... through the 80s... and into the present day. A glorious tag team through time.
I didn't really know what to call this week's Top Ten, and I only really settled on "Mythical Creatures" under protest... since clearly everyone knows Bigfoot isn't a myth.
Apologies, all you sceptics, but I'm 100% Fox Mulder: I want to believe. The alternative is a much more boring world.
Anyway, here are ten songs about creatures I'm willing to be convinced are just as real as you or I...
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.
Leeds was the first city I knew. My dad worked in Leeds when I was a kid, back in the days when getting there from Huddersfield was a much shorter journey. As I grew older, Mum used to take me to Leeds Comic Marts every other month, and when I started work, I'd often catch the train from Bradford to Leeds to spend my wage in the city's many record shops. It was later that I discovered Manchester (too big and scary for a little Yorkshire lad) and later still, Sheffield (Leeds without the pretentions). Nowadays I work in Leeds myself, or close enough, but the only reason I have to visit the city centre is the occasional gig. I don't feel as welcome there as I once did... it's all too new and shiny and ever-expanding... but then, I've never been a city boy.
Still, I was encouraged to breath life into this old blog series after listening to the wonderful Cherry Red compilation, Where Were You: Independent Music From Leeds (1978-1989). Not only does that collection feature some of the best bands to ever call Leeds home, including The Wedding Present, The Sisters of Mercy, Cud, The Mekons and The Sinister Cleaners... but it also features quite a few songs about Leeds. Like this one!
Named after an Eddie Cochran song, Pink Peg Slax were a Leeds rockabilly band who scored quite a few sessions with John Peel and Andy Kershaw in the 80s, though they never broke through to the big time. They were also responsible for this little beauty...
Mandi and Debi Laek are two sisters from Leeds whose quirky tales of life in Leeds have drawn comparisons to The Kinks, The Jam, Brian Wilson and Syd Barrett.
Mark Knopfler wrote the following tune about Harry Phillips, a Leeds sculptor who never got the respect he deserved... because he wasn't from a trendy town.
Here's a contemporary American band that 30-something hipsters like Ben are into, despite the fact that they're named after that old sitcom about growing up in the 60s. The song is all about being on tour, mostly in Leeds, but far away from home...
Last night in Leeds
Ad and I found ourselves wandering the city
Looking for pizza
All we found was complacency and somewhere to sleep
I'm still waiting for the map to say home's a week away
Back in the UK, Geordie folkster Richard Dawson is someone I've been listening to quite a bit lately since Michel Faber sang his praises in Listen. Here, Richard talks about missing his daughter after driving her away to University...
But my favourite song about Leeds is still this one, from Californian songwriter John Darnielle. It's a song dedicated to Goth God and "Leeds lad" Andrew Eldritch... although he was actually born in Cambridgeshire. Nevertheless, it always makes me smile...
Even as a six year old, I found little point to It's A Knockout. Surely I was the ideal target audience for a ridiculous game show about people dressed in ridiculously over-sized costumes trying to race and falling in water? But no, even at that age, I found myself thinking, "This is stupid". I'm convinced that the only person who really enjoyed It's A Knockout was Stuart Hall, and the less said about him, the better.
Back in 1996 though, it was still OK to name-drop him in a tune...
Brotherhood is back from their sabbatical
Dramatical and hit, we're here to take it all
Three rounds of verse, it's a knockout, Stuart Hall
The North Sea Scrolls was a 2011 collaboration between Luke Haines, Cathal Coughlan and Andrew Mueller. They only did one album, but if you like twisted 70s nostalgia or things that are mad as a fish driving a lorry, then it's a wonderful, wonderful record.
It's A Knockout was, as I'm sure you all know, based on the French game-show Jeux Sans Frontières. I'd argue that the only decent thing to come out of the whole sorry affair was the tune below, in which Peter Gabriel uses the show's puerile farce as a metaphor for world politics. Games Without Frontiers, with Kate Bush on backing vocals (she's the one who sings 'Jeux sans frontières'), is another classic from Gabriel... from an era when his albums took a bit of work. You come to those albums wanting every track to sound like Solsbury Hill, and when they don't it can be a little disappointing. Persevere though, and after a while a world of riches opens up.
Games Without Frontiers comes from his third eponymous album, one the record company knocked back as "commercial suicide"... until today's song started picking up airplay, when suddenly they became interested. That's when Gabriel told them to bog off and took his master tapes elsewhere. Games Without Frontiers went on to become his highest charting single in the UK (tying with Sledgehammer), so nyah nyah nyah to you ignorant record company bigwigs.
I still haven't quite worked out how perennial English satirist, raconteur and Auteur Luke Haines ended up in collaboration with the guitarist from REM this year, but part of me doesn't actually want to know the truth. I'm sure it won't be half as interesting as the story in my imagination.
I have to be honest though: if you're an REM fan suffering withdrawal symptoms, this probably isn't the record to quench your need. It doesn't sound much like an REM record at all, despite Buck's involvement. It does, however, sound exactly like a Luke Haines record, full of mad lyrics, crazy theories and Haines's unique parallel universe vision of the world.
Yesterday's selection might have been the first time Bob Dylan has featured in my year end countdown... but this is the umpteenth time Luke Haines has troubled these parts. And he has another new album out in March, so I dare say he'll be here again next year.
I got my copy of the new Luke Haines album as lockdown was beginning, but it got buried under a pile of paperwork on my desk and I only just got round to listening to it. At this stage in his career, Haines isn't going to convert many new followers. Those of who who love him (like me and JC) will buy and enjoy his work whatever he does (although I did draw the line that time he trademarked a tone frequency and made a whole concept album out of it).
That said, maybe he will win a few new fans with this record, as... somehow (I'm sure there are articles online explaining how & why: I don't have time to read them) he's managed to rope in former REM guitarist Peter Buck to play alongside him here. Which is nice.
Look, it's a Friday, it's been a very long week, if you don't care for Luke Haines you stopped reading this at the first line... so here's my favourite tune from the album so far. Let's just say this one struck a chord...
Yes, I could have chosen the logo of Twenty One Pilots to illustrate this post, but I don't think they ever recorded a song as good as this. Feel free to disabuse me of that notion should you wish. Jim In Dubai also suggested another 12 group...
Personally though, The Swede concludes, I'd like to suggest Twenty One by The Apartments. What a truly wonderful band they are.
That is very nice, I have to admit it. Doesn't exist in my own record collection (yet), which is the one stipulation to be a winner on this series. But I definitely have to investigate it further.
Where's Lynchie? Putting all his eggs in one basket this week, it seems...
And... of course... this, which was our opening suggestion this week, from Charity Chic, who almost begged... The Adverts - No Time to Be 21, please, Rol.
C seconded that too, and, well... why not?
Life's short, don't make a mess of it To the ends of the earth, you'll look for a sense in it No chances, no plans I'll smash the windows of my box I'll be a madman It's no time to be 21 To be anyone
To be honest, even though I'm not particularly enjoying 47... I don't think I'd fancy being 21 again. Would you?
And so we finally reach the Top 20. On your marks... get set...
French metal band 6:33 welcome us all to #33 in our Hot 100 countdown. I understand their cover of Silver Lady by David Soul is especially worth seeking out.
33 (and a third) is the number of revolutions per minute made by a long-player / vinyl album. Young people will probably need to consult iffypedia about this, unless they're a hipster, in which case they probably know more about it than I do.
Since I think it's fair to say that hipsters do not read this blog, what do all you old non-hipsters recommend?
The Swede kicked us off this week with a veritable plethora. (Well, a "ple4a", anyway.)
C popped up next with an offering that Charity Chic swiftly declared "the winner!" If only he was compiling these posts. (He's welcome to take over now that he's finished the already much-missed Double Letter Saturday feature. Save me the extra work as we get nearer to #1. Hint hint.)
How about when Grace Jones sounds a lot like Dusty Springfield in I've Done It Again from Nightclubbing?
I was there when Jenny Lind first sang First to feel the cold Alaskan white man First to take a trip on LSD First to vote for Roosevelt back in '33
Next up was Rigid Digit with three solid suggestions...
At the age of 33 and a third, the time that Christ spent on earth, I decided to cut all ties with showbiz. As the awards piled up in the bath, well I started to laugh At all those who died in the name of light entertainment.
That came very close to winning this week, for obvious reasons.
Then came Deano, who explained this week's selection thus...
Before he became outlaw country music's
resident eccentric that would do anything for a publicity stunt, his
debut album was actually some really good blues material, including this
song about a fragile prisoner that has just received some bad news.
Finally came Douglas, who decided to try playing the Canadian card again this week.
For
starters, I wish there were recordings available of any of Gordon
Lightfoot's renditions of "The 33rd of August" which he apparently
undertook in studio in 1969 as an attempt to put together a final
contractually obligated album of covers for UA, which sadly was aborted
and the decision was made to deliver with a live album instead. The
recordings are out there somewhere... anyway, for the record I prefer
the original Mickey Newbury version of this song to others out there.
(See above.)
But
for Canadian content, I am left suggesting Stars' song Personal, which
is a very sad short story of a song told back and forth through
his-and-hers personal columns responses which ends with the heartache of
being stood up. It starts thus:
28 and bored, grieving over loss, sorry to be heavy
But heavy is the cost, heavy is the cost...
Now that might not have won this week, but only because it's not yet in my collection and the winner must always exist in my own library. That said, it's a bloody good tune, so thanks for introducing it to me, Douglas... and it will come in very well on the Top Ten Lonely Hearts Column Songs I've been trying to compile for months now. (Note to everybody: I need another three good ones.)
Speaking of songs from my own library, here's what it threw up this week (along with many of the ones above)...
All of which brings us to this week's winner, which was a real toss-up with Luke Haines, but in the end Frank edged it with an equally biting open line that sums up the state of the world at the moment... and offers good advice for anyone who ever thinks of interviewing He Who Has Fallen From Grace again...
"Stop asking musicians what they think" He said softly as he poured himself a second drink And outside, the world slipped over the brink
We all thought we had nothing to lose That we could trust in crossed fingers and horseshoes That everything would work out, no matter what we choose
The first time it was a tragedy The second time is a farce Outside it's 1933 so I'm hitting the bar
Don't go mistaking your house burning down for the dawn!
