A couple of things I mentioned in my post yesterday (10″ vinyl, and John Peel’s Festive Fifty) sent my teensy brain scrambling off thinking of a much maligned, short-lived and now defunkt format: the 3″ CD single.
They were short-lived because they were an absolute bugger to acually listen to. You had to have a circular plastic surround which clipped onto the CD so that your CD player would recognise it, which kinda negated the need for them to be small.
I owned, appropriately, three of these – the other two will feature soon in this series – which puts me in the rare position of knowing exactly how many posts in the series there will be. Three.
Here’s the first, #1 in the 1989 Festive Fifty (and rightly so) and containing three of the loveliest songs you’ll ever hear:
The Sundays – Can’t Be Sure
The Sundays – I Kicked a Boy
The Sundays – Don’t Tell Your Mother
Harriet Wheeler was definitely an Indie poster goddess for many men of my age. In a previous job, I found myself talking on the phone to her partner and Sundays’ guitarist Dave Gavurin. Every ounce of my flabby body wanted to shout “She should be mine!”. I retained some professional decorum, you’ll be pleased/relieved to hear.
Just as the song on last night’s Late Night Stargazing post caught me by surprise, so today’s song did something similar.
But this time, not because I couldn’t believe I’d not really paid it any attention before, rather because it’s on album I have, but which I’ve never properly listened to.
I’ll often get a copy of an album – usually from Exystence (there’s a permanent link in the side-bar) – upload it on to my iPod with the intention of listening to it sometime, and, if I like it, buying me a copy to own all for myself.
The problem is, good intentions fall by the wayside when you end up downloading loads of stuff, which you never quite get round to listening to, but which pops up every now and then when you have your iPod on shuffle mode, as I almost always do.
Which leads me to one such album, which I downloaded following a suggestion by Jules of Music from Magazines a loooooooonnnnnnnnnnggggggg time ago on The Chain #38 (you’ll forgive me, I hope, for not re-uploading all of the links on that particular post. If you’d like me to re-up anything there, or on any of my posts, just send me a message via the Comments section on the post in question and I’ll be happy to oblige).
(Jules – been a long time since you posted anything, or since I heard from you. Hope all is well mate.)
This is pretty bloody great:
Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy – Quail And Dumplings
Sometimes you hear a song, which you just know you’ve heard before, and you find yourself wondering how you’ve managed not to really notice it before.
Maybe the lyrics to this Dylan cover caught my ear the other day because of the sad event in my life recently. Maybe I just needed to hear some Nick Cave at that moment.
Whatever, it definitely stopped me in my tracks when it came up on shuffle on my iPod the other day. I was walking from the hospital (nothing to worry about, just an out-patient follow-up consultation) to the tube; as the opening first verse bounced around my brain, I had to halt my journey, sit on a bench and listen to it from the start again, breath taken, tears threatening to roll.
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Death is Not The End