Sunday Morning Coming Down

Today is Glastonbury ticket resale day, when all those who were unlucky and didn’t get a ticket first time around battle to try and buy one that was originally bought by someone who was lucky enough to get one first time around, but is now unlucky enough not to be able to attend.

Stepping away from the usual Country fare I post here, this seemed appropriate:

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Rose Murphy – Busy Line

Yes, I know that you no longer ring up to try and buy them, it’s all done online, but do you know of any songs called “Timed Out – Your Credit Card Has Not Been Charged”, or “This Screen Will Automatically Refresh in 30 Seconds”? No, thought not.

I won’t be going this year, but I shall be watching from the comfort of my sofa, nice and close to the beer fridge and the non-long drop toilet, but sadly a long way away from Andy’s Vodka Alchemy (you will need to have read my posts about last year’s festival to understand that), or, more specifically, I’ll be seeing what’s on the Red Button when the frankly underwhelming Pyramid Stage headliners are on.

Anyway, good luck everybody!

More soon.

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Late Night Stargazing

And we’re back in the room.

Apologies for the break in service folks. Although I notice that I had as many visitors as normal, if not more, without posting anything. I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not, to be honest.

Anyway, a beautiful tune for our late night shenanigans tonight, and one that without fail reminds me of my clubbing days. This was a “Cool House” (the club-night we went to most regularly) classic, often played towards the end of the night as things were winding down.

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Laurent Garnier – The Man With the Red Face

The first time I remember hearing it played out, I was with my mate Rob and, it’s fair to say, we were both a little worse for wear. We both grinned to each other as we recognised the opening chords, and Rob leant in and shouted “See this?” he pointed upwards to the sound-system and the shimmering tune that was pulsing down on us. “Hardest tune in the world to mix in, this.” I smiled and nodded, trying to look impressed and admiring, never having tried to mix this, or any other tune, in all my days Indie DJ’ing. No call for it back then, see. Just fade in/fade out.

A few months later we were out and it came on again.(I wouldn’t want to give you the impression that the same tunes got played every month at “Cool House”, but the resident DJs definitely had a handful that were their favourites to play in the last half hour or so. I’ll flag them to you as and when they come up. They’re all great tracks, and had the added benefit from their point of view, of letting us know it was nearly home time).

Rob leaned in and shouted: “”See this? Hardest tune in the world to mix in, this.”

“I know”, I replied.

“You do? You’ve tried?”

“No, you told me last time they dropped it, you muppet!”

And so we had a catch-phrase, uttered whenever “The Man With The Red Face” got played again, and quite often when it wasn’t, just to take the piss.

More soon.

Hangin’ with Howard Marks

Given my love of Super Furry Animals, it can’t come as a surprise to any of you that I’m marking the passing of Howard Marks here, the only real surprise is probably that I’ve taken my time to do it.

SFA’s first album sleeve is adorned with the various passport pictures of Marks’ various altar-egos that he used during his years of smuggling dope, and contained a song which name checked him too:

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Super Furry Animals – Hangin’ With Howard Marks

and the last but one image also featured on the first CD single I ever bought by them:

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Super Furry Animals – Something 4 The Weekend

His autobiography, Mr Nice, is essential counter-culture reading, and Marks even makes an appearance in “Human Traffic” a film I love which I wrote about here a while ago (although I got a little pre-occupied with defending Danny Dyer in that post, if memory serves)

And yes, for the uninitiated, that is Andrew Lincoln aka Rick from The Walking Dead as Felix slumped on the end of the sofa.

But perhaps I should leave the eulogies to those who knew Marks best, and you can read what Gruff Rhys from SFA had to say here.

So long Howard, and thanks for all the spliff.

Normally, I think it’s a bit lazy to end on a quote from one of the songs I’ve posted, but I think today I’ll make an exception:

I wish you well,

Buy buy, sell sell.

I wish you goodbye,

Sell sell, sky-high, sell sell.

More soon.

The Sample Life

The other day my iPod decided to play me a tune that’s the main sample on a record that I love, and which always gets these old bones moving. Hearing it made me seek out the rest of the oh-so-many samples on said record.

There’s quite a few:

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Alfredo De La Fe – Hot to Trot

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Crystal Grass – Crystal World

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Debbie Harry – Feel the Spin

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Gene Roddenberry – The Star Trek Dream

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Gil Scott Heron & Brian Jackson – The Bottle

+ (This next one should have been in my recent sweary Friday Night Music Club. Do not listen to it unless you really like rude words)

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Karen Finley – Tales Of Taboo

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Laura Olsher – The Martian Monsters

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Peech Boys – Don’t Make Me Wait

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Rose Royce – Is It Love You’re After

(in the words of a now discredited and jailed Aussie pervert, “Can you tell what it is yet?”)

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Sam the Sham & the Pharaohs – Oh That’s Good, No That’s Bad

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Stacey Q – Two Of Hearts

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TZ – I Got The Hots For You (Vocal Version)

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Yazoo – Situation

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S’Express – Overture – Theme From S’Express

You’re welcome.

(Disclaimer: blame Wikipedia if any of those are wrong)

More soon.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

As many of you will know, this little corner of my blog has pretty much turned into a little corner of Country music, which seems just perfect for Sunday morning listening.

So there’s no way that I can’t make mention this week of the latest addition to the 2016 Deceased Club (seriously, they’ll be having one hell of a party up there right now), with the passing of Merle Haggard, a country legend if ever there was one.

Haggard is the archetypal Country star, a reformed bad boy, and his road to redemption is particularly astonishing, for in 1958 he was in the audience at a gig by one Johnny Cash, who played a gig at San Quentin prison where Haggard was residing at the time.

Haggard drew inspiration from Cash’s appearance, becoming a Country star in his own right, eventually, years later upon his release.

(Note: this is not the same gig as immortalised in Cash’s “…at San Quentin” album, the lesser known off-spring of his “Live at Folsom Prison” album.)

So, here’s some Merle, one of his best know songs (and that’s no bad thing), about him going off the rails and how his mother tried her best to keep him on the right side of the tracks:

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Merle Haggard – Mama Tried

Sleep easy, cowboy.

More soon.