When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
That's my favourite poem. The Peace Of Wild Things, by Wendell Berry. It says so much to me about life, the world we live in, sadness, worry and sleepless nights. There was a time, when I was a younger man, when insomnia troubled me a lot. Living out in the countryside, I would often get up before dawn and go out for a walk; sometimes in the darkness, sometimes in that dull, dead twilight before dawn. I went into the peace of wild things, up to the reservoir, watched the birds on the water, the first rays of sun breaking over Castle Hill in the east.
I don't do that anymore. I live a bit further away from the wild things now, and besides, I'd wake the whole house. Instead, I use music to help me rest in the grace of the world and stop me taxing my mind with forethought of grief.
6. Steely Dan - Showbiz Kids
One great band to feed through your headphones in the wee small hours, when all else seems dark, is Steely Dan. And one of my favourites at the moment is Showbiz Kids. There's so much going on in this track, it's like three different songs playing at the same time. Lyrically and musically, it's endlessly fascinating. It's a very witty song (love the reference to the showbiz kids with their "shapely bods", wearing their Steely Dan T-shirts), but I've been puzzling for some time over the chorus - the bit the female backing singers repeat, over and over again, but which isn't included in the booklet that comes with the Countdown To Ecstasy CD or any of the online search engines which list the lyrics.
To be honest, once you've got that refrain in your head and started wondering what it is... it's the sort of thing that'll keep you awake at night.
Well, finally, I found out. Maybe you know. Maybe you don't. Maybe I'll tell you. Maybe I won't...
Wednesday the 21st of October, 1998, I went down to a
regular gig haunt of mine back in the day, to check out one of my favourite
bands of the post-Britpop era: Silver Sun. (The way I see it, OK Computer
marked the end of Britpop in '97, This Is Hardcore was the wake in '98.
Everything that came after was post-Britpop. OK?) I went with Dave - one of the
two Daves who accompanied me (though rarely at the same time) on 80% of my
gig-going life, most of the remaining 20% being gigs I attended solo. When we got
there though, we were surprised to discover that there was another band booked
in the main room. The Cockpit wasn't the biggest of venues anyway; it had an
arched corrigated iron ceiling like an aircraft hanger, but you'd have
struggled to squeeze more than a couple of Airfix Spitfires in there. I can't remember who the other band
were, nobody I'd heard of or wanted to see, certainly. But I do remember that
we ended up in the Other Room, which was basically a bar and a couple of
upturned buckets for a stage. Iffypedia tells me that the second room at The
Cockpit had a capacity of 250 people: if so, so does my bathroom. Anyway, the
point is... it was crowded. So crowded, I spent much of my time stood in the
corridor that led to the sick-bucket toilets: partly through claustrophobia, partly
to give my ears some release.
I described Silver Sun as post-Britpop to differentiate them
from the obvious guitar band suspects of that era, though in truth their sound
wasn't Britpop at all, it was pure power pop. They made a hell of a racket, but
a very tuneful one, full of hooks the size of sideboards and glorious harmonies
nicked from the Beach Boys and the Byrds. I saw them live more than once, at
bigger venues or festivals, but this was the smallest room I think I ever saw
any band perform in... and cramming all that noise into such a tiny space took
some doing.
My hearing isn't the best. Being hard of hearing runs in the
family: both my parents have hearing aids, as does my older brother. I'm just
counting the days (and trying to save up). But I reckon there's a little more to my deafness than just
the hereditary: all those loud gigs I attended in the 90s must have had a little to
do with it. So when I do need to get myself fitted for an ear trumpet... I'll
be sending the bill to Silver Sun.
While I don't consider myself the world's biggest fan of Veronica 'Randy' Crawford, I had a devil of a time picking this week's Randy Tuesday track. Four or five of her UK hits (despite being American, she never cracked the Billboard chart) have insinuated themselves into my musical back pages to the point where I consider them comfortable old friends, even though I never actually went out and bought a Randy Crawford record. (Well, until today... when I ordered a cheap Greatest Hits just so I could inhale these songs into my record collection.)
Almaz: has a piano in it, so you know I'm sold. Also reminds me of an old boss who had a name that sounded a bit like 'Almaz', to the point I'd sing at him to take the piss. He was the bloke who gave me my first job in radio, back when it was fun. He never sacked me.
Rainy Night In Georgia: probably the best song Ms. Crawford ever recorded, though I still prefer the Brook Benton original. It's just one of those songs that sends a shiver down my spine.
In the end, I had to settle for this, the track that brought her to fame... even though it was the only record she ever recorded with The Crusaders.
(*Of course, the very notion of having one's opinions vindicated is a spurious one, since opinions are subjective anyway and you can't ever prove a subjective point of view empirically true. Still.)
I went to see Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 2 yesterday. For anyone who's seen the first film (and quite a few of you have, given recent posts about its soundtrack), I would recommend it. It's as funny as Volume 1, but proved a surprisingly emotional experience for me too. I hadn't expected that. Since I became a father, films that focus on father / son relationships often make me cry, but this one caught me out. I was sobbing at the end. (God help me if I ever try to watch Field Of Dreams again: that film used to destroy me BEFORE I became a dad. There's no telling what it'd do to me now.)
This is a music blog though, so let's get to the tune. I've discussed more than once here how movie soundtracks can make even the cheesiest old songs cool. I've also shared with you my idea that if an alien came down to earth tomorrow, it would be unable to tell the (subjective) difference between Radiohead and The Village People, The Clash and Rick Astley, Pink Floyd and Ed Sheeran. It'd all just be notes and words to the alien, and shorn of any cultural context, the little green man or woman would be just as likely to dig Billy Joel as Rag 'n' Bone Man.
The writers of GOTG V2 understand this very well; they even turn it into a plot element which the film hinges on. No real spoilers here, but when an alien god arrives on Earth, he reaches the conclusion that the song below is “possibly Earth’s finest composition”. And who am I to argue with that?
***I was going to bring you My Top Ten Fred Songs today, but blogger just deleted the whole post while I was editing it and I can't get it back. I am bereft. Luckily, I had this one in reserve. I'll dedicate it to all my blogging buddies who are getting together for gigs and good times this weekend. Try not to burn any discos down, guys...***
One of the biggest problems I have with compiling new Top Tens these days is finding myself with too many great songs that fit the criteria. A couple of weeks back, a song JC suggested in the comments made me think about doing an Indie Disco Top Ten: ten indie songs about discos. But when I started to compile my list, there were hundreds to go at... so I had to find a more specific subject matter.
The other problem I have when compiling lists like this is that, on occasion, the Number One is so blindingly obvious that it kind of renders the whole countdown irrelevant. At the end of the day though, it's just meant to be a list of ten tracks I dig. The order is only for you guys to argue about. That said, depending on your age or tastes, there are TWO blindingly obvious choices for Number One this week. My choice will surprise nobody who's been reading this nonsense for any great length of time, but let's remember: it's the journey, not the destination, which matters.
AKA Cornershop's Tjinder Singh and Ben Ayres, this contains the excellent observation that "disco is the halfway to a full discontent", before exhorting us to "get this disco heat onto the streets", which is close enough for a shoehorn.
As previously revealed, there are a great many records in my collection that I've never actually got round to listening to. Confession time: this is the first time I've given this song the time of day.
Finally released on Bowie's 2003 album Reality, this was originally recorded to a fast disco beat with Nile Rodgers ten years earlier. As far as I know, that version has never been released, though I'd love to hear it. It'd have to go some to beat this version though...
We could dance, dance, dance through the fire Dance, dance, dance through the fire
Imagine Oasis had a sense of humour and a record collection that went beyond their dads' old Beatles, Kinks and Who vinyl. I have very fond memories of seeing Shed Seven play live back in the day; I never understood why they weren't more widely acclaimed...
Feels like I've been To every single disco all around Another night, another town It's time to burn this disco down
I have featured this ridiculous song a number of times before; I will likely do so again. I wish I could tell you that one day I will grow out of it and not want to watch its preposterous, high camp video ever again... but honestly, I hope I never do.
The song becomes even more enjoyable when you know that the "female" vocals (as mimed by actress Tina Kanarek in the video) were actually recorded by Jack White.
Written by Leroy Green and Roy 'Have Mercy' Kersey. I want that as my middle name! (Oh, wait a minute, Rol is my middle name. Forget that then.)
The most obvious contender for Number One?
You might think so...
1. The Smiths - Panic
A song so majestic that when I imagine its intro, I add a fanfare in my head. I am actually surprised when the fanfare doesn't happen.
This is the Smiths song I am most likely to quote when discussing music, particularly if anyone ever asks me why I don't like modern (i.e. anything from the last 30 years) dance music. "It says nothing to me about my life." I'm sure you all know the story behind the origins of this song, but here's a cool visual reminder...
Panic took a stand against pop music that had nothing to say, but was bizarrely accused of a racist subtext by those who considered disco to be "black music". Johnny Marr countered by threatening to "kick the living shit" out of the NME writer responsible, while also pointing out that there were no black members of New Order. The NME went on to vote Panic the sixth best dance record of 1986.
Burn down the disco... Hang the blessed DJ! Because the music they constantly play It says nothing to me about my life
