Louise and I binge-watched the first series of Yellowjackets over the past week. It involves a girls' football team (or "soccer" team, as this is the US) that crash-lands in a remote area of the Canadian mountains in the mid-90s and remain stranded there for almost two years. The show also catches up with four of the survivors in the present day, with a stand out performance from Melanie Lynskey, and a savage double act of Juliette Lewis and Christina Ricci that regularly had me laughing. Out loud. Although I shouldn't need to add those last two words, since laughter is generally out and loud. It's rare we internalise laughter and if it's quiet then it's not really laughter, is it? It's a snigger, at best. But I digress...
Yellowjackets mixes horror, suspense and black comedy to great effect. It's Lost with cannibalism, and more of a sense of humour. The soundtrack is pretty cool too, featuring a lot of carefully selected 90s hits, including welcome returns for Belly, Liz Phair and The Offspring. (I was also surprised how many of the more poppier tunes I felt an affectionate twinge of nostalgia for... step forward, Montell Jordan.) It's not all 90s all the time either: occasionally the soundtrack ventures further back, with Kim Wilde's Cambodia getting a rare spin, alongside... well, this...
Although I have a small amount of time for early Ultravox, I'd long since dismissed their biggest hit as over-played radio twaddle. However, it cropped up prominently in two separate episodes of Yellowjackets, and hearing it again after all this time sent a fair few shivers down my spine. Suddenly, the gated reverb sounds menacing, Midge Ure's desperate vocals truly tragic, and the elliptical lyrics bordering on meaningful. Proof positive that a new context can make you reconsider any song... Midge's moustache, on the other hand, still looks like something the cat could lick off with a spot of well-placed cream... and I somehow doubt the ladies from Yellowjackets would stop there.
Before you start Goblin up your Sunday dinner, there's the small matter of the answers to Saturday Snapshots to contend with. Here's a Lighthouse to shine on the... erm... darkness of your... erm...
Sorry, just not feeling the puns today. Great picture of Mr. WD though.
Welcome to a new Friday feature in which I drive round the British Isles and find a song for every place I stop. It's a little bit like Alyson's American Road Trip series without all the fascinating research and anecdote. Also, where Alyson looks at America state by state, I'll be visiting towns and villages, often off the beaten track, and probably won't stop at any big cities. (That way, if Alyson ever wants to do an equivalent county by county trip around the UK, I won't have stolen her thunder.)
Anyway, I thought I'd begin in my own home town of Huddersfield. Its most famous musical connection is that the Sex Pistols played their last UK gigs here back in the punk era before that all fell apart for them. Famous Huddersfieldians include Sir Patrick Stewart and Jodie Whittaker (so both a Star Trek captain AND a Dr. Who come from my home town), plus James Mason and Harold Wilson. Apparently Roger Moore lived round her for a while (giving us a Bond too!) - and Bryan Adams' mum originated from the town, before deciding to seek a better life in Canada. Musically, the best we have to offer are Billy Currie from Ultravox and Visage, Roy Castle, Evile, and my favourite poet, Simon Armitage, who led short-lived, much-missed local band The Scaremongers.
Songs that mention Huddersfield are very thin on the ground though. It's not a name that trips off the tongue or easily rhymes with anything, and most songwriters are a bit lazy that way. The only two references I could find are this...
I wanna be free as a Gibraltar child Drunk at fourteen on pints of mild Ignoring preachers, in padded tiles (Steel-toed caps that sink into the shins)
Instead I'll pass through Huddersfield To muster out the change and courage I can yield I'm young again, waiting out the backfield (We're not spending any of your time)
And this...
A "comedy" b-side written about the band's manager, Rod Smallwood, who left Huddersfield to live in L.A. No idea why. It appears he wasn't very happy there.
Life in a city living in L.A.
Is a long way from Huddersfield town
The back of the Rainbow's a long way from heaven
But that's where he get's his pork pie
Limos and ladies they're driving him queasy
Rugby and cricket's unknown
Baseball and football they're making him lazy
Your fan club says "Rodney come home"
As Iron Maiden songs go, this is pretty easy on the ears, but be warned: Rodney raps in the middle.
Yes, this song is in my record collection, and I've probably listened to it more than most other Iron Maiden songs I own. But its comedic appeal probably doesn't extend much beyond Castle Hill (as pictured above)…
Please let me know if you're aware of any other songs that mention Huddersfield.
Next Friday, I'll be driving 242 miles down the M1 to a small Buckinghamshire town to check out its Lost Property office.
