When I'm putting Snapshot together, I try to get a mix of bands that haven't featured often before, which means that some of the usual suspects and old favourites end up on the operating room floor...
Today is Scream Day, "an unconventional yet meaningful observance that encourages individuals to release stress, frustration, and emotional tension through a simple act—screaming."
"In a fast-paced world filled with pressure and responsibilities, this day serves as a reminder that emotional expression is essential for mental well-being."
But who cares what I think. Here are some more tunes!
When it came to compiling a post about Superman songs, there were hundreds to choose from, so a Spillover seemed inevitable. Starting with a couple which would have made this weekend's link far too obvious. From the sublime...
Richard Herring's question of the week, from his excellent book Emergency Questions...
What's the best museum you've ever been to?
Rich's answer to this is the Keswick Pencil Museum, which I have to say takes some beating. He's probably being sarcastic, although maybe not, because I'm sure he appreciates a good pencil like the rest of us. Having been there myself, I can highly recommend it.
The photo at the top of the page was taken in the Weston Park Museum in Sheffield, which was probably the first museum we ever took Sam to... but we still enjoy visiting it today. The woolly rhino is worth the price of admission on its own... or it would be, if admission wasn't free.
A more local museum that we still pop into from time to time, even though it'll only kill half an hour or so is the Tolson Musuem in Ravensknowle Hall, Huddersfield. There are a few old cars, an old trolleybus and... best of all, a horse that has been cut in half to reveal its skeleton. From one side, it's a horse, from the other... brrr!
The South Yorkshire Aircraft Museum has also become a regular summer stop for Sam and I. An excellent collection of old planes and helicopters, some that you can sit in and pretend you're a pilot.
I like a museum that allows you to step back in time and see the world as it was in days gone by. One of the best of these is Ryedale Folk Museum in North Yorkshire; it's like wandering around an old village and you can go into the old shops, farm buildings and cottages and really feel like you've gone back in time.
Finally, there's the National Science and Media Museum in Bradford - formerly known (back when I worked in the city) as the National Museum of Photography, Film and Television. They have lots of ever-changing interactive exhibits, but the best thing is the Hall of Mirrors. They were closed last year for extensive renovation, so I'm looking forward to seeing what's new in the summer holidays.
Having listed some of the best museums Sam and I have visited over the years, I still haven't answer Richard Herring's question. My favourite museum? Well, it'd have to be this one...
Do you know the history of the trench coat? What it represents and who it's for? What I want to know is who would want a coat So close to the floor? I went to the Trench Coat Museum to see 'em A thousand different cuts Like pelts from another dream Stuffed and bursting at the seams Cause I'm fishing for a theme If it's somewhere in between A day's honest graft and constantly fleeing the crime scene...
The biggest name we've lost recently though is Gene Hackman, along with his wife and his dog. As I write, the true story of their tragic end has yet to be revealed, but I don't want to dwell on that. I just want to remember Lex Luthor, Popeye Doyle, Sheriff "Little" Bill Daggett, Captain Frank Ramsey and, best of all, the heroic sacrifice of the Reverend Frank Scott in The Poseidon Adventure.
The recent peloton of bike posts over at Charity Chic blog forced me to dig out one of my few favourite Pink Floyd songs, although I think it's fair to say that it's more of a Syd Barrett solo...
I have to confess I'm not the biggest expert on Syd - I'm sure some of you know far more about him than I do - but I often think it's a shame he was (to quote iffypedia) "ousted" from the Floyd, as to me they became a far less interesting combo without him.
And
it feels like 1974 Syd
Barrett's last session, he can't sing anymore He's
gonna have to be Roger now for the rest of his life
...but he's remembered fondly by many and proved to be a huge influence of many of the next generation of stars, including Bowie, Bolan, Weller, Cope... and Freezer.
He's also to be found in illustrious company here, as Scroobius Pip lays down his Ten Commandments...
Thou
shalt not worship pop idols or follow lost prophets Thou
shalt not take the names of Johnny Cash, Joe Strummer, Johnny Hartman, Desmond
Dekker, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix or Syd Barrett in vain
Leslie Feist obviously has a little Syd obsession going on too, as she reveals here in this excerpt from her notebooks...
Why
did I write down everything that entered my mind? Check
out these lines, like - "I'm
Syd Barrett and I'll swim to England in his clothes, in 20 holes" How
could I say at what point I would gain perspective, let alone know I had it?
Texan indie dude Matthew Logan Vasquez is a new name to me. He's apparently in three bands: Delta Spirit, Middle Brother and Glorietta. And on his day off, he does stuff like this...
My
little sister got my record collection They
tried to tell her it's a bad direction But
somehow I'm alive today With
Syd Barrett fuckin' up my brain
Back in 2011, John Wesley Harding stopped releasing material under the name he'd stolen from Bob Dylan (who in turn stole it, with a misspelling, from Wild West outlaw John Wesley Hardin). Instead, he went back to using his real name, Wesley Stace. Here he is, in nostalgic mood...
In
Hastings, when I was younger Thе
sea could take you under I
never much swam in there But
I skimmed some stones and I breathed the air The
Who, The Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd Syd
Barrett's final show Didn't
take that long to get To
want to know the ghosts Of
Hastings Pier
As is so often the case with this feature, one tune immediately sprang to mind when it came to Syd Barrett: Roddy Woomble's biggest hit. I loved this song from the first moment I heard it, though I've never had a clue what it was all about. Apparently the title comes from some nonsense Roddy shouted at his girlfriend during an impassioned argument, and the whole thing was Idlewild's attempt to write a Pavement song. So the fact that it doesn't make any sense actually makes perfect sense.
You smoke too much when You talk too much, and When I argue, Syd Barrett makes me laugh I laugh at your conversational skills Or lack of
I was in a meeting at work last week when a consultant psychiatrist explained something about how the brain works which I thought I'd share with you. I'm paraphrasing somewhat, but here we go...
Brain tissue is like muscle tissue - you need to use it to keep it working. If you want to build muscles, you work out with weights. But you need to steadily increase the weights you use or your muscle won't grow. It's the same with brain tissue. If you want to increase your attention span, knowledge, brain power, you need to set your brain increasingly harder tasks.
Although he didn't state it implicitly, I inferred that the reverse was also true. If you stop doing physical exercise, the muscle tissue you've built will eventually turn back to fat. Similarly, if you stop using your brain to think, work things out and solve problems, eventually your brain will lose the ability to do so. Bluntly put, you'll get stupider.
Last week, we spoke about the negative effects too much social media can have on our mental health. We discussed how prolonged exposure to social media - in search of more and more feel good dopamine hits - can effectively rewire our brains. Facebook, Twitter (I refuse to call it X), Instagram, Snapchat... they're all guilty of this... but by far the worst offender in my eyes is the evil known as TikTok.
It's an article I'd recommend everyone reads - I even use it with students, ostensibly as a writing to argue exercise, but also to plant the seed in their heads that TikTok is something they should be wary of. That Forbes writer, John Koetsier, explains how he downloaded the app purely to research the article he was writing, and despite that he found himself immediately addicted.
If you've never used TikTok - firstly, well done you. (I refuse to go anywhere near it, myself.) But you may be wondering just how it can be so addictive. The answer, according to Professor Julie Albright (as quoted in Koetsier's article) is that the platform works on the same principle as a slot machine. Sometimes you win (get a little dopamine hit from having viewed a photo or video or meme that you find amusing or emotionally engaging) and sometimes you lose (that next video leaves you cold). But you keep on feeding the machine in the hope of another win... and before you know it, it's three o'clock in the morning and you've just watched your 121st post of the night.
And this is when the rewiring of your brain begins...
“Our brains are changing based on this interaction with digital technologies and one of these is time compression,” Albright says. “Our attention spans are lowering.”
That’s not just happening for kids: it’s happening for all of us. If you don’t believe that, try to watch a movie from the 50s, 60s or even 70s. In most cases, within minutes you’ll be wondering: when will something happen?
Which takes us back to that quote from my colleague the brain doctor at the start of this post. How to exercise our brains to stop them turning into pudding, as I fear mine might have been a few years back.
In the comments to this series a couple of weeks back, Alyson rightly questioned the amount of time I must spend on this blog, saying...
I do wonder if you substituted a couple of days of blogging for a couple of sessions of reading (I know you don't have time for this really enjoyable pastime any more) you would replace the dopamine hit with contentment and achievement.
I'm very much aware that my reading suffered over the last ten years. I used to read a book a week, but when I became a teacher (and soon after a father), I found it harder and harder to find the time, energy and brain space to focus on reading. And I did fall into the trap of scanning facebook instead of settling down with a book, because that seemed like something I could spend just a few minutes on rather than committing to a long read... then after a while, I found it harder and harder to pick up a book. That's something I've fought to rectify since leaving The Bad Place and starting the new job. And this year, I really feel like I've been able to retrain my brain to be able to focus on reading again. But it wasn't easy.
Similarly, this blog. One of the reasons the post-length has grown and my subject matter has become more diverse and complex is that I'm pushing myself to write better. Because sustained writing is like sustained reading: it takes effort. Both are great brain exercise. Every time I write a post that verges on a thousand words, I'm pressing some serious weights. And every time you read one of these posts all the way through - which, let's face it, is no small investment - you're pressing some serious weights too. You might not realise it, but your brain will thank you for it.
Hands up if you had your mum buy Weetabix just so you could get the free gifts?
I found a website that details all the free gifts given away inside a packet of Weetabix, from the 1930s to the present day. I remembered quite a few of them from the 70s and 80s.
They don't have free gifts inside Weetabix anymore. Further evidence, if evidence were truly required, that life was so much better when we were kids.
As discussed last week, I couldn't eat Weetabix with cold milk, so I had hot milk (which made them dissolve into a paste) and a large spoonful of Golden Syrup to make them palatable. Sam eats his with just cold milk, nothing else. He's a much healthier child than I was.
Here are some songs that mention Weetabix, starting, of course, with Mark E. Smith...
Real ale, curry as well - sophisticate! Spanish guitar doesn't get far In computer teaching job His dreamgirl sings adverts for the Weetabix A fancied wit that's imitation of Rumpole of Bailey
The Seahorses were John Squire's band after he fell out with Ian Brown. I see John's working with Liam Gallagher these days. He obviously has a penchant for collaborating with Neanderthals.
Please, may I leave the table? I don't think that I'll be able
To swallow your family values again today
Because a giant squid, he stole my wife and kid
Full story and pix, ten pence off your Weetabix, yeah, yeah
Sometimes I have an obvious idea for the Celebrity Jukebox and think, "this'll be a quick one, there won't be that many other songs". And then I learn my lesson.
Arthur Lee was born in Memphis in 1945. He first recorded with The LAGS when he was 18. He wrote the almost-hit My Diary for Rosa Lee Brooks, featuring a young Jimi Hendrix on guitar. Then he formed The American Four and wrote for Ronnie and the Pomona Casuals, a band who liked to make records about the dance craze known as The Jerk. And then he fell in Love, and everything changed... forever.
Here are some songs that mention Arthur, starting with Robyn Hitchcock...
The wreck of the Arthur Lee Will never return again The captain and all his men Went up and jumped overboard "Jesus is Lord" they cried Believe in love! Believe in Love And I'll believe in you
In 1996, Arthur Lee was sent to prison "for a crime he did not commit". He spent five and a half years before someone else confessed to the crime, the original prosecutor was found guilty of misconduct, and the charges against him were reversed on appeal. While he was inside, two of his former bandmates died, so a proposed Love reunion was never to be.
Arthur lying down dreaming a dream Woke up to realise life wasn't as it seems Four walls a bed and a wonderful view But he's feeling lonely without the rest of his crew The prison's going down
Walter Schreifels was the frontman of a bunch of New York bands starting in the mid-80s, including Rival Schools, Quicksand and Walking Concert. And here he is on his own...
"Tactics were one of the most celebrated acts on Australia's new wave scene," says their bandcamp page. But that also tells me they're from France, so what do I know?
And those were just the ones I could find links to. Plenty more where they came from... but let's pause to consider a few more well known names. Like Shack. Did you know that in the 90s, Shack were Arthur Lee's backing band? Well, you do now.
How can you shine so bright and still you shine for me? Travelling through the night a million miles with me Listening to Wild Mountain Thyme, The Byrds and Arthur Lee
David Bowie was Hunky Dory Aladdin quite insane Give the sound of Arthur Lee with Forever Changes, I'll remember And more again, don't leave me ever Buddy Holly said, "Baby, please be mine" All the time.
Beware of the man who only shows you the best bits Beware of the band who type out their set lists Sometimes instead of Arthur Lee I’d much prefer some Arthur Lowe And with you by my side I would aspire to ascend Such heights where we’d find Tears and laughter cease to matter And we’d be pleasantly surprised By our annual water bill
All of which brings us to the inevitable. Unarguably the greatest tune ever to name-drop the Love frontman, it's also a highlight of one of the greatest albums of the 80s...
Looking like a born again, living like a heretic Listening to Arthur Lee records, making all your friends feel so guilty About their cynicism and the rest of their generation Not even the government are gonna stop you now But are you ready to be heartbroken ? Are you ready to be heartbroken ?
David Crosby was, by all accounts, a grumpy old git. But we have no problem with that here at Top Ten Towers. Indeed, we embrace Grumpy Old Gittiness. The best word I could find to describe him online was "ornery", which seems like a fine word to have engraved on your tombstone. Who cares, when you make music as beautiful as this...?
Today's winner though is a delightful new discovery who will be getting further investigation from me. And that is why I do this feature. Take it away, John Craigie...
I don't know how I'm gonna find ya, babe it's hard for me
You're always 2, 000 miles from wherever I play
And you want some kids, maybe I want em too
Can we get ourselves a old one, maybe 22
Ain't got no college loans, ain't got no other debts too
He could smoke with me, he could drink with you
He could be my drummer, David Crosby does that
He didn't raise his neither, honey, how 'bout that?
From Singing In The Rain to How The West Was Won and The Singing Nun, Debbie Reynolds appeared on stage and screen for almost 70 years. She had her own TV show, her own dance studio, and her own museum of movie memorabilia. Not to mention her own pop career...
Rightly or wrongly though, for my generation at least, she will best be remember as Princess Leia's mum. Debbie died in December 2016, one day after her daughter Carrie passed away. The official cause of death was a stroke, though many believe it was brought on by a broken heart.
How does Debbie do on the jukebox? Let's start by asking Robert Plant...
No, no, no, Miss Debbie Reynolds promised someone out there always to obey...
On the first day of the summer holidays, Sam and one of his school friends were building a den in some bushes next to the local playing field while their two dads chatted in the sunshine. Suddenly the boys ran screaming from the bushes, chased by wasps. Both were stung repeatedly. For the rest of the summer, Sam has gone full Tasmanian Devil at the first sign of a wasp... which has been something of a pain while on holiday, because there are more wasps than ever this year. "Britain" is "under attack from 'drunk' German wasps that 'go nuts' and sting for no reason," says The Daily Star, so it must be true. Always nice for a national newspaper to find a way to stir up racist sentiment even in a story about wasps. Stan Boardman would be proud.
Wherever they came from, there's no doubt that the wasps are in abundance right now, and they're out for blood. I was stung myself last week while visiting a nature reserve. First wasp sting in 45 years: on holiday as a young boy, I picked up a fallen apple from in an orchard and took a bite... only to find a wasp hiding inside...
Wasps often get bad press, though scientists argue they bring important ecological benefits. But frankly, I've grown bloody sick of being surrounded by them whenever I open my sandwiches this summer. Buzz, quite literally, off!
Following on from this weekend's Snapshots, featuring songs named after famous actors, I had something of an overspill... so here are some of the runners up.
Watching the sky for a sign The FBI is on my mind I'm waiting for the day When my lucky stars align In the form of... David Duchovny floating above me In the alien light of the spaceship of love
I want seven screaming virgins on a sacrificial altar Hell and God, screeching doors, zombies, aaaaah! It feels so good to be afraid Vincent Price is back again
Oh, the great sequin cowboy who sings of the plains
Of roundups and rustlers and home on the range
Turn on the TV, shut out the lights
Roy Rogers is riding tonight
And my personal favourite...
I want to be your hero,
Kurt Russell, Eastwood and me
There's no doubt plenty more where they came from, but that's enough actors for today. Drop me a comment if I've missed one of your favourites and I might do a follow up post... but remember, we're leaving the ladies for another day.
On Sunday afternoon I ventured down to Huddersfield Library to see an artist I've never seen play live before: Robyn Hitchcock.
Sunday afternoon rock 'n' roll gigs in local libraries - this is clearly the future for the perpetually knackered and time-poor former gig junkie. A relaxed atmosphere (they brought out wheelie chairs from the computer room for those of us too lazy to stand up), excellent acoustics, and a crowd who were there purely for the music - not the beer and carousing. I reckon there were about 200 of us in total (including half the employees of Kirklees Libraries who'd obvious blagged freebies), so it was a pretty intimate gig, and slightly surreal too... but in that respect, Robyn Hitchcock was the ideal artist for the venue, with his weird, dream-logic lyrics and eccentric 'tween-song banter. I knew less than half the songs he performed, but I enjoyed every one... and could hear every word. Nobody pushing past me to get to the toilet, nobody shouting at their mates in competition with the band, not even that seven foot seven bloke who normally chooses to stand right in front of me at gigs. He must have had a better offer for Sunday afternoon.
Personally, I can't think of a better way to spend that particular day of the week, and I'll be keeping an eye out for more such gigs (apparently, Jack-In-Titanic-bothering-NY-indie-band Bodega will be playing the same venue soon, but I couldn't make it that day). If you want to check out upcoming library gigs in your area, click here.
I told you way back in 52 That I would never go with you
C wondered who did the original of that. RD replied that it was Smiley Lewis... and that if you listen carefully to the instrumental break, Dave gives a shout out to him, along with Huey 'Piano' Smith (who played piano on the original version), Fats Domino (who also covered it) and Chuck Berry (who doesn't appear to have recorded it at all, but maybe he played it live?).
RD then offered the controversial opinion that the cover versions by Ben Folds Five and Bruce Woolley & The Camera Club were both better than Trevor Horn's original. I'm not sure I agree with that - there's something about the original that just sends a shiver down my spine (in a good way) although they're both fine covers. I'd add the version by Presidents of the United States of America to the list of cracking covers.
Other songs I found that referenced 1952 included...
There are, of course, 52 weeks in a year, so I thought I might find loads of references to that. However, the only ones that leapt out at me were these...
However, I have to agree with both Lynchie and Rigid Digit that there was one very clear winner this week. It was the song that introduced me to this particular artist and established him in my mind as both a lyricist and guitar player of great note...
Said James, "In my opinion, there's nothing in this world Beats a '52 Vincent and a Redheaded girl. Now Nortons and Indians and Greavses won't do. Oh, they don't have a Soul like a Vincent '52
If that doesn't break your heart by the end of the song, then you've got granite in your chest...
51 next week... anyone got anything that can challenge The Swede's obvious suggestion?
