Sunday Morning Coming Down

It’s a Don Williams song for you this morning, but a version performed as a duet with Emmylou Harris on her cunningly titled Duets album:

Emmylou Harris & Don Williams – If I Needed You

And, since I missed posting last week, here’s a song which that reminds me of, from a truly magnificent film, one of my absolute favourites, A Mighty Wind, which does for folk music what This Is Spinal Tap did for rock music, which is hardly surprising given the same people were behind both films:

Mitch & Mickey – Kiss At The End Of The Rainbow

If you’ve never seen it, seek it out. It is beautiful, funny and moving. I’ll say no more.

Except: More soon.

Late Night Stargazing

In case you were wondering about the somewhat erratic nature of my recent posts, I’m in the middle (hopefully) of a bout of insomnia.

I simply cannot sleep at night, but as soon as I’ve finished work and my arse has hit the settee, I’m out for a couple of hours, which of course means I can’t sleep that night, and so on and so forth ad infinitum.

What this means is that I end up laying on the sofa at ouch o’clock, trying to find something mind-numbingly dull enough to send me to sleep.

It hasn’t worked yet.

What has evolved is a routine of programmes I end up watching: Premiership Years on Sky Sports (“I’ll go back to bed as soon as Spurs are mentioned…wait, which year is this? Who was managing us then…?”), any episode of Police Interceptors, or something of it’s ilk, hopefully one of the episodes set in rural Wales where PC Paddy Duwayne is the hero, snuffling out bail absconders from underneath beds or behind doors; and if I’m still awake at 4:30 (which I am) then The £100K Drop with squawking Davina (“I love these guys!”) kills an hour, and then it’s time for a repeat of Countdown followed by a couple of episodes of Cheers (which is just as brilliantly written and acted as I remember; I imagine you can stream them on All4 and if you can I’d heartily recommend you do) and then…oh, time for work,

But the other night, I caught a large chunk of a Manic Street Preachers gig, filmed in Manchester to promote the launch of their Everything Must Go album. Billed as their “comeback concert”, it was the first time they had performed since guitarist, lyricist and cheese salad sharer Richey Edward had gone missing several months earlier.

I flicked on to the channel just as they were launching into a rousing version of Motown Junk, my favourite Manics tune, much posted on these pages before. What I don’t know if they played – but given it features a harp, I somewhat doubt it – is this absolute beauty from the same album, one of those rare moments when lead singer James Dean Bradfield actually sings, rather than shouts (not a criticism, by the way – just my way of saying he’s actually got rather a nice singing voice which doesn’t get trotted out enough):

Manic Street Preachers – Small Black Flowers That Grow In The Sky

More soon.