I’ve owned a copy (on mp3, admittedly) of the original for quite a while now, but knew nothing about the artiste that recorded it, so I did a little research on them for this post, only to find that they used to be Bill Cosby’s touring band, so I decided it’s probably best I don’t say anything else, just in case it happens to be libellous. Besides, I just had what appears to be a perfectly innocent looking drink passed to me and I’m suddenly feeling little woozy after sipping it…
So, here’s the original record with no further comment:
So as I was writing last night’s Friday Night Music Club, the news broke that Ian Duncan Smith had resigned from his position in the UK Government as Work and Pensions Secretary, apparently in protest over the proposed cuts in personal independence payments (PIP), which, since the Budget announcement earlier this week, have been subject to much scrutiny, criticism and protest. In short, there was to be a £4.4 billion cut to funding for PIP, which assists people with disabilities.
I don’t buy this as his reason. For a start, he was all for it when it was official policy. Secondly, this is no man with a conscience: cuts that Duncan Smith introduced under his regime have produced an increase in the number of food-banks, have made tenants less secure and have left children impoverished simply for having being born into larger families. People were left penniless for weeks on end. I was unemployed when his cuts started, and thankfully found work just in time to escape the full force of his actions.
Whatever his reasons for going, I’m glad to see the back of him. Sadly, I suspect it’s not the last we’ve seen of him.
And since he quit his job, presumably he’ll have to wait 26 weeks before being entitled to any benefits (one of the reforms he brought in).
Anyway, you didn’t come here to listen to me rant, you came here for some tuneage. This song seemed appropriate:
For the past seven days, I have been picking out songs for this week’s Friday Night shenanigans, popping them into an order that felt right, and trying to think of something vaguely amusing to say about them.
But then on Thursday, I got some news which made me change this week’s theme entirely.
So, here are this week’s tunes; the tunes I intended to post this week would be next week, but I have next week’s planned already, so the original ones from this week won’t feature next week, but the week after that, unless anything happens in the next couple of weeks that makes this week’s get postponed for another week.
Everybody clear about that?
Ok, so this week’s theme is…well, let’s see if you can work it out. And please don’t write in, it’s just for fun. Nor is it particularly tricky.
In case you were wondering, this is not the version used on the “Reservoir Dogs” soundtrack; that’s a cover version recorded by Nashville group “Bedlam” who certainly sound scary, don’t they readers? I bet they have a “You Don’t Have To Be Mad To Work Here, But It Helps!” sign on their studio wall.
By the way, have you ever noticed – and I do not claim to be the first person to have ever pointed this out – that the traditional depiction of a magic carpet, is not a carpet, but a rug?
Look:
That’s a rug, that is. It’s got tassles on the corners!
Mind you, apart from the historical precedent that had been set, I can see why Disney continued to refer to it as a carpet in their 1992 film Aladdin: too many references to rugs might have put Elton John off writing the songs for The Lion King.
Now who are these shifty looking chaps peeking out from behind some trees? It’s only blimming 60s rock pioneers and runners-up in the 1968 “World’s Worst Hide ‘n’ Seekers” Creedence Clearwater Revival, that’s who:
Yes, that was some proper yodelling you just heard there.
When I used to go clubbing, a mate of mine was into his progressive house music big time. At some point or another he heard the term “progressive rock” and was curious, so he asked me if I knew any bands he should check out. I mentioned “Yes” and “E.L.P.” which drew a blank look. Well, Dum Dum, if you’re reading this, that was prog 1970s style. I do hope you didn’t waste any money.
Moving on to 1982 now, and a song which I seem to remember used to get this 12 year old boy a little bit hot and bothered when the video came on Top of The Pops:
I think it’s the line about “silk and satin, leather and lace, black panties with an angel’s face” that made me blush so. And if you think that’s rather lame, you should have seen the state I was in a year earlier when this was a hit:
Girls did not look like that in my class, that’s for sure. I might have turned up a bit more often if they had.
Anyway, I digress. The more astute of you will have noticed a magical theme through the songs so far, and that’s because here in the UK, 2016 claimed another celebrity from my childhood with the death of TV magician Paul Daniels.
When I was a kid in the late 1970s and early 1980s Daniels was everywhere: he had his own magic show on BBC1; hosted several game shows, and even had a children’s show called “Wizbit”.
It struck me recently, in a particularly dark moment, that one of the reasons so many popular entertainers from my youth have died recently is because I’m no spring chicken anymore either, and since they were generally about 30 years older than me back then…well, it’s hardly surprising. Yeh, I know, bleak, right?
Anyway, in his later, post-regular-TV-appearance years, Daniels became a bit of a figure of fun, a relic of those light entertainment shows from the period which had been banished from the TV listings by alternative comedy, by satellite and cable, by the mass media’s lustful craving for something a little saucier than he and the lovely Debbie Magee could ever produce. I always found that a little sad and distasteful, especially as he always seemed to take it all on the chin, and even play up to it to a degree. He’d made his fortune and got out while the going was good, what did he care?
But I come here not to bury him but to praise him. He always seemed a good egg to me (although it was pretty funny when he was hospitalised after Sooty hit him in the face with a pizza. True story. Shouldn’t laugh but…could an anecdote be any more 70s children’s entertainment?) and he was a genuine influence on my life, albeit briefly; I tried to take up magic in my youth, buying a pack of Paul Daniels Playing Cards and a book of card tricks, which I think I gave up on after a couple of weeks of realising I couldn’t even shuffle the bloody things properly.
So when the news of his death broke on Thursday, I was genuinely saddened and decided to dedicate tonight’s Music Club to him, and dig out a few tunes with a somewhat magical quality.
Surely, somewhere, there must be a 60s-themed bistro called “The Lovin’ Spoonful”, right?
I’m absolutely gutted that I posted Super Furry Animals “God Show Me Magic” on here a couple of weeks ago, or that would be in this list. As it is, here’s a couple that I can’t really avoid posting:
From one of their most commercially successful albums, which, coincidentally, was released the year after their iconic performance at Live Aid (I’m sure those two facts are in no way linked) this to my mind marked the end of Queen’s final purple patch. The next album, although yielding a Number One single in “Innuendo”, also saw them writing songs about being an Invisible Man (something it’s very hard to imagine Freddie Mercury ever being – and yes I know Roger Taylor penned that one, no need to tell me) and twatting about on top of steam trains at the Nene Valley Railway (near my childhood home) in the “Breakthru” video. Mind you, they probably had more pressing matters on their minds at the time…
Count yourself lucky I didn’t post the Barry Manilow version.
Time for a factoid: did you know Manilow nicked the chord progression for this from Chopin’s Prelude in C Minor, Opus 28, Number 20? Don’t believe me? Check this out:
Maybe he didn’t write the songs that make the whole world sing after all.
What finer recommendation do you need for a song than that it was included on the soundtrack of “Happy Gilmore”? So I’m told, anyway. I wouldn’t know. Never seen it. Might be a very funny film, though I somewhat doubt it.
“Happy Gilmore” stars Adam Sandler, so I will never watch it. My default setting when it comes to Sandler is “Avoid”.
Though I have seen “The Wedding Singer”, but that had Billy Idol in it, which just about saved it.
Something a tad more contemporary now. From their third album “Bruiser”, and the main track on their 2010 “Kusama EP”, the much under-rated:
The Duke Spirit’s fourth album “Kin” is out in April, and I cannot wait. But I’ll have to. Stay with me til then, won’t you?
In 2007, frustrated by their record label’s decision to basically ignore their “Twilight of the Innocents” album, Ash started describing it as their “final album” and made it known that henceforth they would be eschewing the album format. This sparked many a rumour that the band was about to split; instead they began releasing a series of singles, a new one every fortnight between October 2009 until September 2010 on 7″ vinyl and digital download only. That’s 26 singles in total (take that, The Wedding Present, with your feeble 12 singles in one year!), one for each letter of the alphabet, hence the whole lot being released on two…erm…albums, pithily called “A- Z Series Volumes 1 & 2”.
This was the first, and watch out, it has one fuck of a bassline:
I was hoping to track down a clip of when they walked off Top of the Pops after host Richard Bacon introduced them as a band that had been put in a “fat melting pot of talent”, but apparently it was in the rehearsals so there is no footage. Ho hum. Bacon is said to have tried to apologise and claimed he was referring to their status, not their appearance. Course you were, Richard. Course you were. And you only did the one line of coke too, right?
Next, a band who’ve never really made it big over here in the UK, which is a shame, for they made some really great power pop records in their time. This is from their 1977 album “In Color” (that’s not a typo, they’re American, that’s how they spell “colour”):
As usual, I seem to have gone on a bit longer than I intended again, so just two more to go.
I was going to post Dan Le Sac vs Scroobius Pip’s “Magician’s Assistant” but then I listened to it and remembered just how depressing it is, being about self-harm and suicide and all, so I decided against it. But the mere allusion (or should that be “illusion”? Ha, see what I did there?) to the lovely Debbie McGee allows me to post this classic TV moment:
And yes, that’s Peter Hook playing the walk-on music.
Hands up who want to hear Kelis? Very well. This is from her third album “Tasty”, the follow-up single to 2003’s “Milkshake”, when she was in full-on saucepot mode:
…who as I’m sure you know is actually Norman Cook in one of his many chart-busting guises.
And that’s yer lot, as they say.
Next Friday night I’ll be watching Underworld at The Roundhouse; it’ll be the first time I’ve ever managed to see them (quite how I’ve avoided them all these years is beyond me), so next week expect to see me trying to pretend I know something about dance music, other than tunes which I got out of my tree to back in my clubbing days.
And, here’s a surprise: a track by The Wedding Present. Who’d have thunk it?
In early 1990, in between the release of the “Bizarro” and “Seamonsters” albums, the band hooked up with Steve Albini to re-record the “Brassneck” single. Albini dislikes the term “producer”; he prefers to be either uncredited or referred to as the “recording engineer.” The project led to Albini returning to produce engineer the whole “Seamonsters” album.
At the time, The Wedding Present were one of those bands whose B-sides and additional tracks on 12″ and CD singles were worth listening to (see also all singles by The Smiths and oh-go-on-then-I’ll-admit-it early Oasis singles) featuring as they did songs which at best were potential singles, at the very least album tracks. There will be further evidence of this at some point in the future here.
One of the extra tracks on the “Brassneck” 12″ was this absolute monster:
Don’t worry, I’ve got this covered. We can salvage something positive from this.
In 1992, the Heavenly record label released a three track 12″ featuring acts from their stable performing covers of songs by Right Said Fred, with all proceeds going to the Terence Higgins Trust. The other two tracks will almost undoubtedly feature on these pages sooner or later; for now though, here’s Flowered Up’s version of the above song, one of the finest moments they ever committed to vinyl in their short-lived career:
The act name is a bit of a misnomer though: Grandmaster Flash played no part in this record having already left the Sugarhill Records label that released it.
Seriously, what a tune that is. And it’s impossible to listen to it without at the very least joining in with the “Baby” parts, as evidenced by the song’s appearance in the wonderful popular culture referencing “Sean of the Dead” movie:
As for the godawful cover, well I suspect most of you know what’s coming. Brace yourself.
Regular readers will know that the main idea of this blog, which has fallen by the wayside somewhat recently (but will be resurrected soon), is to go through every record I’ve ever bought in the order that I bought them, an idea I blatantly lifted from Nick Hornby’s “High Fidelity”.
The book was made into a movie starring John Cusack, and here’s the bit in question:
There’s another section of the film which references a song which, when I watched it once with a former flat-mate of mine, they said they didn’t know:
Once upon a time, Virgin was known for being both a record label and chain of record stores, and not for owning trains which don’t run on time (apparently; I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of riding a Virgin…train), or providers of Murdoch-baiting TV packages and sporadic broadband. (I hate Murdoch with a passion, but my dislike deepened still further a couple of weeks ago when he suddenly decided to stop BT (who I’m with) from airing the Fox Channel, just as the current season of “The Walking Dead” started up again. Twat.)
Anyway, in 1980, The Freshies released this slice of rather ruddy wonderful DIY pop:
Never slow to miss an opportunity to self-promote, Virgin guru Richard Branson wasted no time in waiting 26 years until 2006 when he launched a search for the Girl in question, to mark the opening of a new Virgin Megastore in Manchester. The quest was unsuccessful; had he found her then he would doubtless have been pictured lifting the poor girl up, for this seems to be his default setting for publicity shots. Type the words “Richard Branson lifting” into Google images search, and you’ll see what I mean.
The more astute of you will know that The Freshies were formed and led by the much missed Chris Sievey, who later found fortune, of sorts, as Timperley’s finest son Frank Sidebottom.
I love the fact that after Sievey’s (and by extension, Frank’s) death in 2010, fans got together to raise £60,000 to commission a statue of Frank which now stands in Timperley in his memory. I knew nothing about it at the time; had I, then I would have happily contributed. You know I would. I really really would.
Here it is:
This, of course, gives me a little needed excuse to post some more Frank. In a week where we lost yet another from the ranks of popular music, it seems appropriate to share Frank’s contribution to the NME’s 1988 charity release to support Childline, “Sgt Pepper Knew My Father”, an album where acts of the day covered the whole of the George Martin produced “Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” album.
Poohsticks is a game that should be played on any bridge over running water (it doesn’t work as well on, say, a bridge over a motorway); each player drops a stick on the upstream side of the bridge and the one whose stick first appears on the downstream side is the winner. The name is taken from the Winnie the Pooh book “The House on Pooh Corner” by A.A. Milne, in which the game first appears.
The Pooh Sticks were an indie pop band hailing from Swansea (I had no idea about this until I did the tiny bit of research I feel obliged to perform when writing something to post here). They first came to my attention in 1988 when their single “On Tape” reached the giddy heights of 34 on John Peel’s Festive Fifty. They were, of course, named after the aforementioned game, and not after a particularly troublesome visit to the lavatory.
A History of Dubious Taste 