The Dumbarton we visit today though is on the west coast of Scotland and it was the birthplace of David Byrne and Wings guitarist Jimmy McCulloch. Apparently Franz Ferdinand once released a remix of their song Take Me Out retitled "David Byrne Was Born In Dumbarton", but I can't find that anywhere to t'interweb.
I couldn't find any other songs that mentioned Dumbarton by name, but I did find this little beauty from Glaswegian indie band (and a band I've actually met and interviewed!), The Supernaturals.
Boghead Park (former home of Dumbarton F.C.) was the oldest football stadium in Scotland when it finally closed down in 2000, having originally been opened in 1879. Here, James McColl of the Supernaturals fondly remembers visiting Boghead as a boy...
When I look back on my time in local radio, it's easy to pinpoint the moment the rot set in, when it all started to go wrong, the top of the slippery slope that led to my eventually redundancy in 2011.
The end began in 1990, just three years into my 23 year radio career. It began with the first takeover.
One radio group taking over another is commonplace. It is an industry that devours itself... almost to the point of self-destruction. There are presently two big groups that own the majority of UK radio stations and it's only a matter of time before there's a complete monopoly.
During my time in radio, our station must have been taken over four or five times, and every time the same thing happened.
First: someone from the new head office would come along and tell us how nothing much would change.
Then: things would start to change.
When they did start to change, they'd promise us amazing things: that life - and our jobs - would be so much better.
Things always got worse.
I came to realise that the defining state of UK radio was entropy. Because local radio stopped being about providing entertainment and being your friend sometime in the late 80s. Instead, it became about making money. Not enough money to sustain a business, pay the staff (and the PRS!), and keep the lights on as it had once been... but enough money to pay shareholders and stakeholders who never set foot in the building and didn't know a turntable from a turnip, and certainly wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between The Jam, Hot Butter and Marmalade.
I have more to say on this, obviously. But for anyone who was wondering how I've managed sixty posts so far in this series and not yet featured possibly the greatest radio song ever written... well, I was saving it for today.
Radio is a sound salvation
Radio is cleaning up the nation
They say you better listen to the voice of reason
But they don't give you any choice 'cause they think that it's treason
So you had better do as you are told
You better listen to the radio
I wanna bite the hand that feeds me
I wanna bite that hand so badly
I want to make them wish they'd never seen me
Some of my friends sit around every evening
And they worry about the times ahead
But everybody else is overwhelmed by indifference
And the promise of an early bed
You either shut up or get cut up; they don't wanna hear about it
It's only inches on the reel-to-reel
And the radio is in the hands of such a lot of fools
It's the Easter holidays at college so I have no classes... which you might expect would mean I'd have more time to work on the blog. Unfortunately, the boss has dumped a ton of extra work on me so I have even less time than usual. Apologies then if I have to keep this brief. Today's band, +44, were, apparently, an offshoot of Blink-182. I've not heard anything by them and don't have time to investigate right now. The Swede set the ball rolling last week with a load of jazz and blues...
McCoy Tyner - '44th Street Suite' (couldn't find that one, but I'm sure it's NICE).
Lynchie, meanwhile, came tooled up with a mean '44, having realised "There are a LOT of blues songs about men killing women or other men with a .44 pistol."
Hey Joe, where you goin' with that money in your hand? Hey Joe, where you goin' with that money in your hand? I'm gonna go down to town to buy a blue steel 44 I'm gonna go down to town to buy a blue steel 44
(In case you're wondering, Jimi Hendrix doesn't appear to specify the calibre of his own gun.)
Lynchie continues, "But one woman did shoot a man with a .44 in the song Frankie & Johnny..."
Well, Frankie lifted up her kimono dress And she drew out a little .44 She shot once, twice, three times she shot him And through that hardwood door Yeah she shot her man (yeah he was her man) Well but he been doin' her wrong yeah
Lots of people recorded that, but here's Sam Cooke because... well, he's Sam Cooke.
Good call, though my first thought was I'd have gone with Nick Cave... except Nick's Stagger Lee carried a Colt 45... so he should have been here last week.
After last week's splurge, Martin decided to rein himself in this week with only two suggestions...
And for the lyrics that could have made it into a maths or multiplication top ten, the (frankly not very good) 15 Times by Gilbert O'Sullivan, which has the lines:
You and me and baby makes
3, 4, 5, 6, 7
8, 9, 10 and 11
12, 13, 14, 15 times 44 is 660!
Despite his whole "not very good" ruse (methinks he protests too much), I fully expect Martin to suggest this song consecutively for weeks 15 - 3 of this feature.
Swiss Adam was up next with a tune I didn't know, but always got time for this gentleman...
...which did appear 44 posts ago, but it's still worth another play.
After all that... and a little surprise that nobody mention Fats Domino - 44... I was left with a clear choice between just two songs, both suggested by The Swede (although C seconded the first one).
It would have been a worthy winner, were it not for this, from a band that Brian introduced me to a year or so ago and I've had a great affection for ever since...
I think I have a clear winner for next week... but I'm always open to having my mind changed. Go for it!
I'd file Dawn Landes under traditional country rather than Americana, but country in the tradition of Dolly or Tammy or Loretta rather the glitzy pop sheen of contemporary Nashville. Even the cover to her latest album (her fifth), 2018's Meet Me At The River, has a vintage feel to it. It looks like the kind of old country album you'd find leafing through the vinyl section in a charity shop rather than popping out of your screen on Spotify.
There's a lot to love on this album (if you care for this kind of music), but I'm most taken at the moment by her collaboration with the great Bobby Bare - now in his eighties, but still going strong. It's a fun duet, and their voices complement each other very well indeed. Plus, I always like songs about not dancing...
