Sunday Morning Coming Down

I’ve mentioned before how much I love the Lemonheads, particularly when they head into alt-country territory.

Back in 2003, when the band were on one of their many fallow periods, head ‘Head Evan Dando released a criminally overlooked album called “Baby I’m Bored”, which is chocked full of the things.

Here’s one of my favourites from it:


Evan Dando – It Looks Like You

More soon.

Late Night Stargazing

A few months ago I stumbled across a rather marvellous compilation of some of Alex Chilton’s recordings, called ‘Free Again: The “1970” Sessions’.

That’s Alex Chilton of The Box Tops, Big Star and…er, well… Alex Chilton fame.

This is one of my favourite tracks on it, a gloomy little beauty:


Alex Chilton – All We Ever Got From Them Was Pain

More soon.

Grumpy Old Sod

Nope, not a review of the new Morrissey album (don’t get me started on his latest loathsome attempt to whip up a few column inches of publicity that just happens to coincide with the release of his latest record).

I was listening to Adam Buxton’s podcast the other day, and he mentioned that he had just recorded an episode of BBC panel show Room 101.

For those of you unfamiliar with the show, it’s named after the torture room in Orwell’s 1984, where the Party subject prisoners to their worst nightmare, fear or phobia.

To do that, the items which invoke these feelings must be placed into Room 101, and it’s here that the BBC TV show comes in. The premise is that three celebrities suggest things which annoy them, and put the case for them being banished to Room 101. The host, currently comedian Frank Skinner, chooses one item per round which ‘wins’ and is booted into the room.

Buxton revealed that after you’re booked to appear on the show, you submit your list of pet peeves; the production crew then go through it and rule out any items which have featured on previous editions of the show. When you bear in mind that the show first aired on the radio back in 1992, and on TV in 1994 (with, it has to be said, a few years of silence in 1998, and then again between 2007 and 2012) that’s a lot of topics that you can’t choose.

And that, as Buxton points out, makes it rather difficult to pick things that truly wind you up that haven’t already been on.

I’ve watched the show since it first aired, and have often thought about what, in the highly unlikely event that I was invited on,  I would nominate. But this news means that I would be unable to re-nominate most of the ones that I would have chosen (predictive text, American Football, and clowns all would have been on my list).

So what would I choose now? And, more importantly, what songs would I choose to soundtrack them?

I should have written about my first choice a couple of weeks ago, for there was a prime example riding high in the news. For my first choice is:

People Who Give Public Apologies Without Actually Saying Sorry

The example I’m thinking of is not Weinstein or Spacey, both of whom gave what they claimed were apologies or expressions of remorse, but actually it was clear they were only sorry about being exposed.

No, the example I’m thinking of involves a politician – they’re particularly well versed at these sorts of apologies – who made an incorrect statement, was pulled up on it, but rather than simply saying they were sorry and correcting it, tried to blag their way out of it.

I say politician, but I actually mean Boris Johnson.

In March 2016, Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe went on a holiday to Iran; not a destination many would choose, I imagine, but she wanted to be with her family (who live there) for Persian New Year. The idea was to introduce her then one year old daughter not just to her grandparents, but also to allow her to begin to learn about Iranian culture.

On 3rd April 2016, Zaghari-Ratcliffe was arrested just as she was about to board a flight back to the UK. Her daughter’s British passport was confiscated.

In September 2016, Zaghari-Ratcliffe was sentenced to five years in prison “for allegedly plotting to topple the Iranian regime”, a charge she and her family has always denied.

Fast forward to October 2017, and Zaghari-Ratcliffe was to be considered for release on parole. That is, until at a foreign affairs select committee meeting, Johnson said that he believed Zaghari-Ratcliffe was “simply teaching people journalism”.

His comments were subsequently cited in Iran as evidence that Zaghari-Ratcliffe was spreading “propaganda against the regime”, a charge which could add a further sixteen years on to her sentence.

Of course, when presented with the facts, Boris did the right thing and corrected his error, right? Did he heck as like.

First came a statement from the Foreign Office: “The foreign secretary expressed concern at the suggestion from the Iranian judiciary high council for human rights that his remarks last week at the foreign affairs committee ‘shed new light’ on the case.”

Then, in a statement in the House of Commons, Johnson said: “I accept that my remarks could have been clearer.”

Yes, they could have been clearer. They could also have been accurate, which would have been even better.

A week later, he was compelled to clarify further: “As I said in the House last week, my remarks on the subject before the Foreign Affairs Committee could and should have been clearer….And I acknowledge that the words that I used were open to being misinterpreted and I apologise to Mrs Zaghari-Ratcliffe and her family if I have inadvertently caused them any further anguish.”


Saying “I apologise if…” is not saying sorry.

The word “sorry” does not appear in any of those statements. Because he isn’t sorry.

I’m reminded of a quote from Denis Thatcher, not someone I name-check often for fairly obvious reasons, but it’s relevant here: “Better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool, than open it and remove all doubt.” 

All doubt was removed about Johnson a very long time ago.

Some songs:


Squeeze – Trust Me To Open My Mouth

And I can’t really not post this, now can I?


Chicago – Hard To Say I’m Sorry

Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe remains in an Iranian prison. If you’d like to help the campaign to get her released, you can sign an on-line petition here.

More moaning soon.

I Can’t Help Myself

A few weeks ago, somebody on Twitter asked for suggestions for songs which you instinctively sing when you hear someone’s name.

Annoyingly, I can’t remember who it was, or what, if any, hashtag they used, for there were some great examples I could point you in the direction of. Or just shamelessly pass off as my own.

So I’ll try to explain.

We’re not interested in songs by the person (if they happen to be a singer), nor songs which mention the person (so, for example, were you to burst into the lyrics of Madness’ “Michael Caine” when you hear Michael Caine’s name, that would not count. No, in those circumstances, every one knows that you are obliged to say “You’re only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!”)

Perhaps the best example at the moment is the tendency for people who voted for Jeremy Corbyn to sing his name to the tune of The White Stripes’ “Seven Nation Army”. But even that’s not quite right; his name just happens to scan, as would anyone whose name happens to have five syllables. Try singing “The Chuckle Brothers” instead of Jeremy Corbyn, and you’ll see what I mean.

No, the song in question needs to have a phrase within it, preferably at the chorus, which sounds like or rhymes with the person in question’s name. And whenever you get to that part of the song, you find yourself, like Pavlov’s dog salivating, unable to stop yourself from singing, but with the lyrics changed to feature that person’s name.

When I saw the aforementioned Tweet, I thought “I do that a lot”, went to reply, and then realised I couldn’t think of a single one.

Then, a couple of weeks ago, I went – and I may have mentioned this in passing – to the Spurs v Real Madrid game. At half time, former Spurs and Real player Rafael Van der Vaart was interviewed on the pitch, and suddenly I remembered one.

Anybody I lived with or watched football with during the years he played for Spurs (2010 – 2012) will confirm that whenever his name was mentioned, I would not be able to resist singing his surname to the chorus of this song:


Tenpole Tudor – Wünderbar

Does this make a bit more sense now?

Okay, good.

Because watching the Champions League match between Borussia Dortmund and Spurs on Tuesday, I remembered another one, and found a new one too.

Football players names, it seems, are ripe for this, which leads me to a further distinction: we’re not talking about established, recognised football songs or chants.

So, when I saw the Dortmund team sheet on Tuesday (I wasn’t there), two names jumped out at me. Firstly, they have a young centre-back called Dan-Axel Zagadou.

Don’t worry, we’re not heading into Black Lace territory.

Instead, to here, and to a song which came into my head whenever he got the ball:


Olivia Newton-John & Electric Light Orchestra – Xanadu

Except, of course, when their striker Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang had the ball, when it was over-taken by this:


Ram Jam – Black Betty

There’ll be more of these as and when they occur to me. Suggestions welcome.

(More soon).

Same Title, Different Song

I’ve not done one of these for a while, but since my recent post about the music featured in the BBC dram series The A Word got such a good reaction, I thought I’d post one of the songs which featured in Episode 2:


Orange Juice – I Can’t Help Myself

…which, of course, name checks this:


The Four Tops – I Can’t Help Myself

And there’s another one, by a band I love, which features twice on B-sides and early singles compilation by the group in question. This is the second of those, a gorgeous reworked version, far superior to the original, recorded as part of a Radio 1 session (for Mark Goodier’s show I think, but doubtless Martin over at New Amusements – who gets a cheeky plug in the album’s art work too – will be able to confirm):


Gene – I Can’t Help Myself (Radio 1 Session 18/05/94)

I’m going somewhere with this, you’ll see where soon enough.

In other words: more soon.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

There are certain TV programmes that I will, generally, avoid:

  1. Any travel show which needlessly attaches a celebrity to it (see “Chris Tarrant: Extreme Railways”), and
  2. Pretty much anything on ITV or Channel 5.

But this week saw a programme which caught my eye for the sheer ludicrousness of it.

“Gone to Pot: American Road Trip”, which one would expect to be on Channel 5, but actually aired on ITV1 featured five…erm, shall we say ‘more mature’ UK celebrities riding a psychedelically painted bus across the USA on a mission to investigate the pros and cons of the legalisation of marijuana.

It’s a premise which could have been lifted from Alan Partidge’s dictaphone. Think “Youth Hostelling with Chris Eubank” and “Monkey Tennis” and you won’t be too far off the mark.

The celebrities in question were ex-footballer and Gladiators presenter John Fashanu, former darts player Bobby George, ex-Birds of a Feather actor Linda Robson, and most glorious of all, Pam St Clement – yes, Pat Butcher from EastEnders – and national treasure Christopher Biggins.

Each, apparently, had an ailment which may benefit from taking some of the medical marijuana products available in the States, and so the first stop on their trip was to obtain doctor’s notes to permit them to purchase some, followed swiftly by a visit to a marijuana apothecary.

From there it’s on to a venue called Puff, Pass and Paint, where the group are encouraged to join an art class and have a toot on the reefers that are passed around. Fashanu, who is staunchly anti-drugs, refuses, Biggins declines as he suffers from asthma, Robson has the tiniest drag on a doobie, whilst St Clement and George (who insists on calling it ‘happy baccy’) dive right in, inducing a fit of giggles in both of them that anyone who has ever indulged will recognise.

The sight of St Clement sucking on a bong is something I never expected to see, an image that will live long in the memory.

And then it’s on to chef Nonna Marijuana’s house. Nonna Marijuana, as her name suggests, specialises in recipes which include marijuana, and she serves up a feast for the group, with other “straight” dishes included for those who don’t want to indulge.

Anyone who has ever eaten marijuana products will know that it takes a couple of hours for the weed to be digested, the hit not as immediate as when smoked, so one needs to take it easy and not over-indulge too quickly.

But Biggins, emboldened by having seen St Clement and George giggling uncontrollably at the art class, tucks right in (as does George, to a lesser extent).

And so back on to the bus, and it’s here that a truly hilarious comedic moment takes place. I’ve tried to find a clip of this, to no avail, so here’s a summary. Look away if you don’t like spoilers.

An hour and a half later, the group are having a sing-song.

Robson: What’s your karaoke song, Biggins?

Biggins: My Way. Frank Sinatra singing My Way.

Robson: Sing us a line.

Biggins (pretending to hold a microphone, singing): And now….that’s the wrong song…And now, the end is near, and (he pauses, the rest of the group join in to help him) and so I face the final curtain….what song is that then?

George: That’s My Way.

Biggins: Oh it is My Way. Oh yes. (laughs) ..

He then sits, complaining of feeling “very dry” and a “a little bit ‘hello’, before zoning out, unable to speak and those in the know could see what was going to happen next: Biggins is about to have a whitey.

And sure is eggs are eggs, the next we see of Biggins he is at the back of the bus, spewing up into a paper bag, before being carried off the bus and out to a bed in a hotel room.

I can’t do justice to just how unintentionally funny the first episode of this show was (the second and third ones, not so much), so I would thoroughly recommend you watch it on catch-up if you’re able to, or you can watch it on YouTube here.

So, a song, and who better to soundtrack this than Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard:


Willie Nelson & Merle Haggard – It’s All Going To Pot

Thinking about it, maybe I should have renamed this post Sunday Morning Coming Up….

More soon.

I’m Not Too Keen On Mondays

Every week day, I get the bus to work.

The bus stop I get off at is a short walk away from the office.

In fact, it takes me 1 minute and 49 seconds to walk from the bus, into the building, into the lift, and then out into the office.

No, I haven’t timed it.

So, how do I know this?

Well, because the other morning, today’s song kicked in the very moment that my foot set foot on the ground as I alighted from the bus, and it stopped precisely at the moment that the office door closed behind me.

And blimey, that set me right up for the day.

I hope it has the same effect on you:


Super Furry Animals – God! Show Me Magic

More soon.