I’ve had this tune in my head for a while now.
Any song by Dylan reminds me of one particular friend who is a massive Dylan fan. He and his family are going through an unbearably tough time at the moment, and I’m not sure why this particular song has stuck – some of the lyrics seem to fit the current situation, some definitely don’t – but stuck with me it most definitely has.
Bob Dylan – Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right
The post-Berry R.E.M. albums generally get a fairly bad press, and there’s a reason for that: they’re mostly nowhere near as great as what had come before then.
But to write them off completely is madness, for each of them has one or two absolute jewels hidden away: there’s usually something just drop dead gorgeous, and/or which fits the jangly guitar template of their earlier records.
Tonight’s record falls into the former category, a song I’m really rather surprised I haven’t already posted. I was torn whether to plump for the album version or the demo version which pops up as an extra track on the lead single from that album, Imitation of Life. But since I’ve just banged on about hidden jewels on their later albums, I guess album version it is.
As with many of their piano-led tracks, this is quite lovely:
R.E.M. – Beat A Drum
Tonight’s post is inspired by a Twitter conversation involving Drew from Across the Kitchen Table (I was going to describe it as “the much missed…” but after announcing his retirement from the blogging world back in June, he’s not been able to resist a couple of posts since, so my fingers are crossed for a full-time return) which I barged my way into.
The conversation was about how tonight’s song is at least as good as one of the same artist’s more critically lauded tunes.
I’d go as far as to say it’s probably my favourite song by David Bowie. It’s certainly in the Top 10, if not the Top 5.
But strangely, it’s a song often over-looked, as it’s attached to what is generally considered to be a fairly awful film (I’ve never seen it, so couldn’t possibly comment) and not long before Bowie went off to tit around in Tin Machine.
In my book though, it’s one of is finest moment, swooningly gorgeous from the off, as it comes crashing in with backing “ba-ba-ba-ooh” vocals, it soars and swoops its way through the film noir vibe, glorious crescendos reached as it ebbs and flows, and there’s Bowie’s gumshoe detective crooning impeccably, bolstered by a great sax solo from Don Weller (no relation) and some stirling keys work by sometime Attraction Steve Nieve.
I like it. Quite a lot.
On the day that his death was announced, this was the first tune that came to my mind. It’s just beautiful, from start to oh-too-soon fade:
David Bowie – Absolute Beginners
A Comment on my Monday morning post from one of the When You Can’t Remember Anything/The Sound of Being OK boys (I know not which, but hello to both SWC and Badger) sent me scuttling off to revisit an album I’d not listened to in a looooooonnnnnnnnnnngggggg time: Disgraceful by Dubstar.
Here’s the opening track and their debut single, from back in 1995, which, given it’s title, and how fine it is, I’m suprised I’ve never posted here before:
Dubstar – Stars
Let’s be honest, there’s only one person that I can possibly post a song by here tonight.
The problem has been deciding which of her wonderful, captivating records to choose.
I’ve plumped for this, a cover of Bob Lind’s 1966 hit, and the closing track on her Soul ’69 album which, whilst it doesn’t contain any of her big hits or more well-known cuts, is still, typically, an absolute belter:
Aretha Franklin – Elusive Butterfly
So long, and thank you, Aretha.
If there’s one artiste, late at night, when I’m feeling reflective, sad, drunk, or all three, that I find myself turning to more than any other, it’s probably Dusty Springfield.
Here’s one of hers that’s probably not amongst her best known; I bloody love this:
Dusty Springfield – All I See Is You
Imagine a teen angst movie set in 1950s America.
Inevitably, there is a scene where either the lead guy or gal drives to the beach in the middle of the night. They get out of their convertible and walk out onto the beach, the waves lapping around their ankles, as they gaze out to sea, the wind ruffling their hair, looking all wistful, angry, sad.
(Forgive me: I’ve been watching and very much enjoying Mark Kermode’s Secrets of Cinema on BB4 recently)
Anyway, the scene above is soundtracked by something that sounds a lot like this:
Two Wounded Birds – My Lonesome