Sunday Morning Coming Down

This morning, my head hurts from last night.

So you’ll forgive me if this is brief, and a little later than usual.

Here’s a song I’ve been meaning to post for absolutely ages:

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Tom T. Hall – Old Dogs, Children and Watermelon Wine

More soon.

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I’m Not Interested in Anything

It’s a big weekend in the UK.

Firstly, it’s the FA Cup Final, Manchester United v Chelsea.

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Yawn. I won’t be watching.

And yes, I am bitter, before you ask.

I was at Wembley with my old mate Richie¬†last weekend for Tottenham’s last “home” game of the season, against former Champions Leicester. It was a quiet, uneventful¬†game:

Final Score

We have contacts at the club (hello, and thank you Ray!) so at half time we were ushered into the Members and Sponsors Reception Room; a room which¬†punters pay a lot of money to be in at¬†the same time¬†as some ex-players. I needed to go to the Gents, and found myself stood at the urinal between Pat Jennings and Ricky Villa. I’m still not sure if I actually “went” or not – certainly there was stage-fright on my part (but probably not theirs). I suspect that I just nerd-perspired all of the excess liquid that needed to be expunged from my body.

After the match¬†Richie and I were allowed back into the same Reception Room, for Man of the Match and various sponsor presentations. We – having been told it was perfectly okay to do so¬†– spent a happy couple of hours getting photos of us with Spurs legends. As a result, I now have some photos I’ll cherish to the grave: me (and Richie) with Robbie Keane, Pat Jennings, Gary Mabbutt (he’s diabetic, you know) and Ricky Villa, who, ¬†when we were posing for the photo, I must have told about eight times¬† that he’s the reason I support Spurs (or, more specifically, because of that goal in the 1981 FA Cup Replay against some up and coming whipper-snappers called Manchester City).

What do you mean, what goal? This one:

Anyway, there were a few other ex-players (legends, if you will) that we didn’t approach for photos (Graham Roberts, Micky Hazard, Alan Mullary, Cliff Jones),¬†one that Richie got a selfie with that I was totally gutted on missing out on¬†(Dimitar Berbatov, who looked cool as flip), one who was at the stadium but didn’t come into the reception area we were in or we would have (Gazza, obviously), and the one who got away, the one that we both really wanted a photo of/with, who we asked and who said he’d be back in a moment, but didn’t: Ossie Ardiles. Maybe next time.

I can guarantee you that the FA Cup Final today will have nowhere near as many goals as we saw last weekend. My prediction – with apologies to London Lee if he’s reading this – is 2-1 to United.

I should stress at this point that I have never correctly predicted a score and if you decide to place a bet based on that last statement that’s entirely up to you. Nowt to do with me, guv.

Here’s a record that sums up how I feel about the game today:

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Transvision Vamp – Baby I Don’t Care

The other big event of the weekend here in the UK is the trifling matter of a Royal Wedding.

You’ll probably have guessed from previous posts that I’m no fan of the Royals (the family, not the cigarette brand):

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Lorde – Royals

It’s another¬†major event that I won’t be watching.

Throughout the week, the media has been obsessed with whether or not Meghan Markle’s father would be at the wedding and whether he would escort her down the aisle and give her away.

Dropping my feminist¬†dungarees and putting aside my thoughts on what¬†“giving the bride away”¬†says about the¬†patriarchal society we live in and the concept of ownership of women within it, with the news that her father will not be in attendance, I made the following observation at work earlier today:

It seems perfectly fair that Meghan’s father isn’t there. After all, Harry’s father hasn’t been invited either.

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I think I upset somebody at work with this throwaway quip, for I was informed that a) somebody on Diana’s side of the family has red hair (I’m not sure how that adds anything to the discussion), and b) these days Harry has developed many of the same gestures and mannerisms of Charles, so he must be his son. I decided to let this slide, rather than point out that by that logic Mike Yarwood is his son too.

A tune, I think:

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Elastica – Never Here

I’m sort of DJ’ing (I’ll explain the “sort of” later, if I can be bothered) at a friend’s 40th birthday tonight, so that’ll do for now.

More soon.

Friday Freedom Song

With apologies to those of you in different time zones, or who have to work over¬†the weekend, but it’s Friday, it’s five o’clock and it’s time for…..a freedom song.

(And to all readers who found themselves mouthing the word ‘Crackerjack’ towards of the end of that sentence, congratulations, you have exposed yourself as being “of a certain age”).

Here’s Alex Chilton:

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Alex Chilton – Free Again (Original Mono Mix)

Ok, you seem nice. Have yourself a slightly different version, recorded in all new stereosound, which I think might just catch on:

Alex Chilton – Free Again (Stereo Mix With Alternate Vocal)

In case you hadn’t guessed, the album both of those are lifted from – Free Again: The “1970” Sessions – is a must own: twenty golden greats, the majority of which, believe it or not, have titles other than¬†Free Again.

As with many records that Chilton either wrote or performed on (or usually both), his was not the first version of that song that I ever heard. You will probably not be too surprised to learn that it was in fact a cover by this bunch of Scottish scallywags, who give it more 70s-glam-stomp Big Star-esque sound (again, no surprise there):

R-1197391-1200054241_gifTeenage Fanclub – Free Again

But even that’s not the first version I ever heard of that song. (You will tell me if this gets too tedious, won’t you?) That honour goes to this¬†a live version which featured on a cassette given away with the not-actually-missed-that-much-at-all NME:

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Teenage Fanclub – Free Again (Live at Glastonbury 1993)

And since I’ve mentioned Glastonbury and Big Star, here’s an extra little treat for you: Super Furry Animals playing….well, I’ll let Gruff explain:

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Super Furry Animals – Northern Lites (Glastonbury 2007)

Have yourself a great weekend folks, I’ll be back with some more nonsense in the morning.

That’s the long-hand way of saying: More soon.

Claps, Clicks & Whistles #19

Toronto: not just in Canada, but from Canada.

I refer, of course, to the band Toronto, who, having formed in Toronto, must have spent a really long time at the whiteboard, blue-sky thinking, before they came up with the moniker they chose for their band.

This is by them, a prime slice of early 80s US MOR rock, which reached the giddy heights of #5 in the Canadian charts, #77 in the US charts, and absolutely nowhere in any other chart in the world ever. Don’t let that put you off though:

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Toronto – Your Daddy Don’t Know

There’s a better version of that though, from a film I’ve never seen. I suspect from what I have seen and heard¬†about it, Fubar: The Movie¬†is¬†a sort of Canadian slacker Spinal Tap meets Bill & Ted¬†type affair. And why would I want to watch that when I can watch This is Spinal Tap itself, or the actual Bill & Ted films?

But this version is faster, punchier and meatier than the original:

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The New Pornographers – Your Daddy Don’t Know

More soon.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Regular visitors to this series will have noticed that when I can’t think of anything to post, I have three reliable¬†default¬†Country singers to whom I turn: Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson and George Jones.

Here’s George Jones:

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George Jones – The King Is Gone (So Are You)

More soon.

Late Night Stargazing

Did I mention that I love The Wedding Present?

They’re without doubt the band I’ve seen more than any other since I first saw them way back in 1988, and now I manage to go see them at least once a year.

A couple of years ago, I caught them performing the album that tonight’s song is from –¬†1994’s Watusi – which is an¬†often-overlooked gem in my book.

For those of you who think they’re a bit of a one-trick pony I urge you to listen to this and see just how utterly wrong you are:

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The Wedding Present – Spangle

Just plain heart-achingly gorgeous.

More soon.

Leave a Light On

Having not been to any gigs for a while, I suddenly find that I have a relatively full diary for a few months.

One thing I’m going to (because I got a freebie: thanks Hel!) is Mighty Hoopla 2018 in Brockwell Park (that’s Sarf London), which along with many cheesy acts has Belinda Carlisle playing.

Now, obviously I adore her and The Go-Go’s, so I’m hoping to hear a rendition of Our Lips Are Sealed, one of the greatest singles of all time. I imagine this is unlikely as she will have very limited stage time, so I’m equally hoping that she sings this, not one of her better known/selling singles, but one that I absolutely love (and that has nothing to do with the cleavage, thank you very much):

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Belinda Carlisle – Leave A Light On

Now here’s the thing: there’s a very real chance she will perform neither. This would be very disappointing.

But I follow Belinda on Twitter. So dear reader, your advice please: do I tweet her to ask her to sing one, or both, as a dedication…..? Just to be clear: I have no absolutely no qualms whatsoever about pretending to be terminally ill to make a shout-out happen…..

Answers on a postcard please. Or judge me in the Comments section.

More soon.