The name's Snapshots... Saturday Snapshots. Diamonds Are Forever, but Snapshots are only for Saturdays. Guess the songs and their singers from the ten clues below, please. How many do you Dr. No?
I still get quite a lot of views on blogger for Saturday Snapshots - certainly beyond the 10 or so regular contributors. If you read and play along every week but you've never left a comment (maybe because Lynchie gets all the answers before you get a chance), how about leaving a comment today just so I know you're out there? Doesn't have to be a guess, just say hello if you're playing along.
10. Jimmy Nail loses a dollar to Elvis's bear on the lawn. And it all goes dark.
9. A minor, candy coloured clown.
8. Elf with midlife gender change? That's preposterous!
7. Lost? Trust the window screen.
6. Octogenarians die laughing.
5. The week starts early in central Venice.
4. Occasionally breaking the Hammer rule, Benny's kung fu rating.
3. No, it's Britain. For the time being, anyway. I'd avoid web & eat nymphet.
2. Dick & Spencer - 2 blokes in a Lambo.
1. Les quits top pop band after catching his reflection in the Gents.
You Only Live Twice, so make sure you're up nice and early tomorrow morning to catch the answers.
I find it very difficult to explain why I like The National as they don't fall into any of the easy to define categories that characterise most of my musical interests these days. They don't write story songs; their lyrics are obscure, at times frustratingly so, but occasionally spring surprising images or ideas on the listener that stick in your head like hooks. But there's nothing I particularly relate to or laugh at or even sing along to in Matt Berninger's lyrics, and normally songwriters like that (of whom there are a growing number these days) get short shrift from me.
Musically they're not an obvious choice for me either. They're not country or indie or singer-songwritery soft rock... which, you know, Mid-Life Musical Crisis should be the name of this blog these days. I'm not really sure how to define the band, but there is something quite contemporary in the production which would hold little appeal if it came from other artists.
One thing I can pinpoint is that I do like Berninger's voice, even when I don't know what the hell he's on about. Although, here comes another potential fly in the ointment: that voice gets rather sidelined on The National's latest album as Berninger welcomes on board a raft of female guest vocalists, including Sharon Van Etten and Kate Stables from This Is The Kit.
All that said, I've been listening to I Am Easy To Find for a good few months now, on and off, and I've yet to grow tired of it. It kind of washes over me, and I've come to realise that lyrically, Berninger belongs to the same school as Bowie... or Michael Stipe. That's most obvious on my favourite track (one which is crammed full of those frustrating lyrical hooks... and curiously even namechecks R.E.M.). The album version isn't available on youtube for some reason, but this is a pretty decent live take...
So it's been a tough few months. Moving house really took it out of me this time, and when I started back at work in late August, the bosses threw a load of stressful crap at me, forced a change on my working hours (which I've had for 8 years), and half my colleagues either quit for other jobs or went off on the sick.
Then, during a routine appointment to sign up at a new GP's, they found blood in my urine. Teeny tiny traces - 8 blood cells! - but apparently that's enough to fast-track you for a barrage of pretty serious tests. And I received one of the above leaflets in the post, something that nobody ever wants to receive.
Over the course of the last fortnight then, I've had a prostate & testicle exam (probably overdue), an ultrasound of my kidneys and urinary tract, and... best of all... an endoscopy.
"I thought an endoscopy was where they shoved a tube down your throat," a mate of mine said.
It wasn't down my throat.
"Up your bum?"
Nor up my bum.
"Well, where else are they gonna... oh."
Apparently the NHS will now happily stick a camera up any hole on your body, so why go for a big, boring hole like your mouth or bum when they can stick a camera up the smallest hole in male anatomy? The highlight is when the camera pushes through the sphincter that separates your pee pipe from your bladder (the thing that stops you weeing yourself). After that, they pump water up the tube to fill your bladder because it photographs better when it's full. All this while the doctor is telling you it'd be far less uncomfortable if you just relaxed.
"I bet you'd rather be at work right now," said the nurse.
If only she knew...
Sitting around in the recovery room, they gave out a questionnaire, the main question being "How likely would you be to recommend this department to family and friends?"
"You're doing a brilliant job," said one of the other guys in the room, "but... recommend this? I think I might have to say no."
The NHS is an amazing thing, and why anyone in their right mind would want to see it dismantled or sold off to the Americans, I cannot comprehend... unless there's a sizeable chunk of money in it for the ne'er-do-wells who want to see it happen, perchance?
Eight bloods cells led to a swift referral, in which time I've been checked for prostate cancer (no sign), testicular cancer (no sign) and bladder cancer (no sign). And my kidneys looked OK too.
"Blood in the urine is pretty common and the majority of times it goes undiagnosed," said the consultant. But they still wanted to get me checked out. And every appointment I've had was not just on time, but ahead of time. What a marvellous organisation.
So, fingers crossed, nothing to report. A few sleepless nights and a little perspective on the bigger picture. I'll see if I can get back to semi-regular blogging soon.
Greetings, Mad Men & Women... here are this week's answers...
10. Two lumps for baby prince(s).
Two sugar lumps.
Apparently one of the Princes in the Royal Family is called Archie. I only just discovered this, and I couldn't help thinking of Breaking News by Half Man Half Biscuit...
"A woman who described herself as “A little bit Bridget, a little bit Ally, a little bit Sex And The City” and chose to call her baby boy Fred as a childishly rebellious attempt at a clever reaction to those who might have expected her to call him Julian or Rupert. Bit of advice: call him Rupert, it fits, and besides it’s a good name. Don’t be calling him Fred or Archie, with all its cheeky but lovable working-class-scamp connotations, unless you really do have plans for him to spend his life in William Hill’s waiting for them to weigh in at Newton Abbot."
Yes, I know The Archies really looked like this...
...but pictured above are the male and female vocalists who actually sang on that track: Ron Dante & Toni Wine. The track was written by Dante and (previous Saturday Snapshotter) Andy Kim. There were a bunch of fake bands created by the record company who went around touring as The Archies back in the 60s, but they weren't the real thing. Believe me, a lot of unnecessary research went into sorting out this clue.
Sam's teacher told us at parent's evening that they're not allowed to call them "sums" anymore. They have to call them "calculations". I can't help but blame Michael Gove. Then again, I blame him for most things.
It's a constant Wonder to me that you all keep coming here every week to play this silly game... but here's another ten clues for you to try and guess. Title and artist, as always, please...
10. Two lumps for baby prince(s).
9. No pop in Scottish Sin City.
8. Looking for a second one in the mirror, not seeing it.
7. Small sums for Latin god.
6. Onioned acorns are unparalleled.
5. Hurry - dial a ghost!
4. Marina will accept any old rubbish.
3. Scottish study craze with a nasty spot, proves invincible.
2. Change the way you look at the top of a shoe... and get buried in kisses.
1. With bits.
Twirl around really fast and the answers will be with you tomorrow morning.
