The Chain #49

I promise that I’m not going to start all of my posts with these words, but following the last instalment of The Chain I had an email from from long-time reader and Chain Gang contributor George who said that he was “toying with idea of making a cd of Chain 48”. (To any of our younger readers, CDs are what we used to record music on to and listen to music from before streaming and making playlists became things.)

Anyway, I thought this was an excellent idea, because I have a playlist for every edition of The Chain, the purpose of which was partly so that I could revisit and relive the good times and the bad, but mostly so that I could check whether something had already been suggested and therefore was precluded from being nominated again. You may have noticed I’ve been rather lax about this since The Chain returned, and that’s not going to change: I figure in these days of Trump & Johnson, of global pandemics*, international recessions, corruption at a governmental level, and starving children (it was The Chain or a Rant today), there’s more important things to worry about than duplications in The Chain back catalogue.

(*Sit down, New Zealand, I’m not talking about you)

Anyway, the point I am trying to make is that to get all of #48’s songs onto one CD would take a lot of editing choices, so I’d love to hear which songs made the cut – even more so should you decide on making one after you’ve read this one because this week (I say that like I post these every week, rather than every six weeks or so) we have just shy of 4 and 3/4 hours worth of tunes to get through, and I don’t think there’s a duff choice amongst them. Some ropey ones, yes, but duffers, no. But then Kay hasn’t suggested anything this time, so…..so maybe I should crack on.

Oh, and George (Incoming obligatory oblique 1970s TV reference that about 80% of you won’t get): I’m sorry but we aren’t able to return any drawings sent in, but yes, it is a big one, no I’ve never seen one quite that shape before, and no I don’t need you to send me a photo, but thank you for the offer.

OK, so let’s start as we usually do with a reminder of the source material this time around, which was this:

As you might expect, we have a lot of tunes related to Talk(ing), some related to Fear of Music (the album that features on), and then what I believe is the collective term for lots of suggestions on a similar theme: an absolute fuckload of songs linked to a specific city, or the words cities or city. As always, I’ll try to put them in an order that makes some kind of narrative sense (you’ve noticed I do that right?) but if you’re planning on doing yourself a playlist of these, I’d be interested to see if you think you’ve done better (NB: no I wouldn’t. Keep it to yourself, thanks very much).

Not quite first out of the traps this time was Swiss Adam from Bagging Area who, as he will explain, suggests a tune which simply demands to go first:

“Cities should have a theme and luckily we have an ahead of its time piece of ice cool euro dance that found a second life in the Balearic sounds of ’88 and thereafter:

Now, I don’t profess to know anywhere near as much about that there dance music as our Swiss, but I do know that got used on a tune recorded by David Russell Lee, who used to be known under the stage name of Joey Negro. Lee also recorded under many other pseudonyms, including this one, which throws in a Queen sample for good measure, and I think is what Swiss means when he says “thereafter”, given this came out in 2001:

But since we’re already going off on tangents, here’s a factoid for you (lifted from Wiki, so large pinch of salt at the ready): In 1993, Lee was approached by Take That’s label with a view to working together. Lee suggested they covered an old hit by Dan Hartman, which hadn’t been a hit in the UK but which had become a popular club track in the house music scene. They did as suggested, replacing Loleatta Holloway from the original with – who else? – Scottish songstress Lulu and lo! the boy band’s second number one in the UK was born.

Anyway. Cities. I think next I’ll hand over to Rigid Digit from Stuff & Nonsense to get us back on track:

“Knowing too much about 3rd Division Punk Bands (as I do), the phrase “Cities” immediately brought forth [this]…It’s OK, in a mohican wearing punky thrashing type way, but probably not what you’re looking for.”

Turns out, that’s quite the accurate description. I’m also imagining a purple and black furry jumper:

I gather Westlife are planning to do a cover of that as their comeback single.

Well, we seem to have strayed into the territory of songs with the word Cities in their title, so here’s another couple of suggestions. Firstly, C from Sun Dried Sparrows who says “I’m just plumping for the very first thing that comes into my head as a kind of quick subconscious response and it is…..:”

…which is bound to lighten the mood.

Let’s see what George can conjure up this time:

“Taking the cities from the song, to Manchester City, whose best English footballer was Colin Bell, whose birthday is February 26th, the same date as Michael Bolton…[Oh, Jesus, no…. – Ed]…wait for it…Fats Domino [Better – Ed]…and Johnny Cash, so my song is…:”

Phew!

I think at this point I should hand back to Rigid Digit, who gave me a whole host of acts who had recorded songs called In The City, the first of which was also suggested by Martin of New Amusements fame:

..and this (just Rigid Digit now):

and (which, if I was still giving points out, would earn a couple for being in one of the coolest films ever, but I’m not, so it won’t – and in any event, I’d have to deduct points for the artist having also been in The Eagles and Ringo Starr & His All Starr Band, surely the least cool bands ever):

and this:

Now. Regular readers will know that I have deep-seated hatred of songs being appropriated for advertising purposes, as documented in my S.S.O.S. (Stop Spoiling Our Songs) series. For the avoidance of doubt, I’m with the late, great Bill Hicks on this one:

Here’s a tune which I’ve been meaning to post for a while, and which samples Hicks and explains my thoughts better than I ever could, and which I must credit my old mate Dum Dum (not his real name) for bringing into my life:

See, it’s bad enough when songs we love are appropriated to sell something, but surely it’s even worse when an act we love pops over to an overseas land in the hope that those back home will never find out what they’ve done – and I’m looking at you Bacon and Clooney – isn’t it?:

Mostly because Joey did it too:

But I digress, again.

Rigid’s next suggestion is this: “…or even Starship who built this city on sausage rolls.” Now, we all know what he is obliquely referring to, and that’s the first of the last two Christmas #1s here in the UK. In a week where Tory MPs voted down a motion which would have ensured that children from poor families don’t starve because of the various lockdown restrictions, I thought it probably best if I didn’t post a free link to a song which tried to help. Instead, here’s the (extremely unfunny) video (and yes, this got to #1 in the UK):

…and here’s the song they are referencing:

To be fair, Rigid does offer up a vastly superior song, the title of which references the same source:

So before we set off on a little journey of all the songs mentioning actual cities in their titles or their lyrics (and there’s lots of them), we’ll have a look at all of the suggestions – most of them are mine, admittedly – which feature the word City in the title or in the artiste name. But before we do that, let’s get all of the other ones mopped up.

Here’s the Devonian with, I think, my favourite explanation ever:

“A geographical link… not going off “Cities” though, but rather the fact that the bassist in Talking Heads was the esteemed (albeit not by David Byrne) Tina Weymouth. That got me wondering whether there are any other groups with bassists named after gentrified Dorset coastal settlements. But I couldn’t find any, so I had to settle for a couple of singers instead. Therefore I give you Shelly and Karen Poole and…”

“…which is great and you know it is really.”

Actually, I’m more of an ‘I Am, I Feel’ kinda guy, as it goes, but that’s enough about why I can’t go on public transport without a responsible adult in tow anymore.

“Whilst Devonian was struggling for Dorset-named bass players to link to Tina Weymouth,” pipes up The Great Gog, “I found myself thinking of a feature of said coast that is named in a song – namely the theme tune to children’s TV show Portland Bill (which must have been 20 years old when my kids watched it on satellite telly in the early 00’s).

I can’t say this rang any bells with me at all, but I have managed to track down a copy of the writer of the theme tune in question, playing…well, it:

Next up is PhonicPat who, undeterred by suggesting the worst record last time out, has come up with a load of absolute bangers this time, starting with this, which kinda follows on given that it’s “made up of the rhythm section of Talking Heads” who just so happen to be husband and wife combo Chris Frantz (drums) and Tina Weymouth (bass and renowned gentrified Dorset coastal settlement):

Talking Heads “…tried to continue without Byrne and released the ‘No Talking Just Heads’ album” Pat continues, “featuring collaborations with Debbie Harry, Andy Partridge and Shaun Ryder amongst others therefore:”

and

and

And Pat isn’t finished there:

“[A] David Byrne/Talking Heads link” (as Byrne features as guest vocalist on this):

Now, there’s two things to say about that: firstly Byrne mentions New York at the start, and we’ll be coming on to that city in the fullness of time; and secondly these PhonicPat sponsored words: “…(along with saucy video)“.

In the name of research, strictly so that you don’t have to press play on this next video, you understand, I have watched this, several times, and can confirm that no matter how much you might slow it down or rewind and watch again, whoever had the job of censoring out the wobbly bits did a fine job. Still, best you approach with caution, eh?

Remind me in a bit to give you a related Pet Shop Boys fact, will you?

Since we seem to have landed on band-related suggestions, George is back again:

“From Talking Heads to the Talking Book album by Stevie Wonder, and the track:…”

And moving on to other suggestions about links to the band name we have Alyson from What’s It All About? who says: “We’ve had Dollar [last time out] so in the same vein can I suggest….”

Whoa there tiger! I need to explain the “in the same vein” bit, because Dollar should definitely not be bracketed with The Fizz so lightly. Oh no. For post-1980s fame The Fizz split into two factions: one containing original members Cheryl Baker, Mike Nolan and (sighs) Jay Aston, the other containing Bobby Gee and an almighty war broke out about who should use the name Bucks Fizz to promote their cruise ship wares. And amidst this row, up popped former member of Dollar and never member of the Fizz, David Van Day who, when he wasn’t trying to be the Lawrence Fox of his day and appear all outrageous by dumping his girlfriend live on Channel 5’s The Wright Stuff, elected to appropriate the name Bucks Fizz, go on a tour, sing a couple of their songs and trouser all the cash. The twat.

Anyway, here’s Alyson’s Fizz choice:

What I love about Alyson’s choice is that she could have picked the original of that, by The Romantics, but such is her devotion to ladies having their skirts ripped off as part of a Eurovision dance routine, she simply had to plump for a bit of Fizz. Kudos.

No idea what I’m banging on about? Here you go, complete with withering intro from the much missed Terry Wogan:

Genius pop music. And I mean that.

Alyson has some other suggestions linking to Talking Heads’ name, namely:

and

Almost time to set off on our tour of cities, have you got your packed lunch and your waterproof coat? Ok, I’ll stall for a bit with some frankly rather clever suggestions.

The source record this time features on Talking Heads’ Fear of Music album, which takes us into the dark territory of phobias. Or, as the Devonian puts it: “Cities is from the album Fear Of Music… which is a Phobia… which is a song by Flowered Up”

It sure is:

Which leads us neatly on to Hal’s suggestions: “Didn’t Cage the Elephant release an album called Melophobia?” he asks, rhetorically. Well, yes, yes they did. And in case you were wondering, Melophobia is the correct technical term for having a fear of music, so here’s something from the album of the same name:

I’ve always avoided them because, well, I thought (and still do) that they have a terrible name, but that’s not bad so maybe I need to reassess.

Anyway, Hal isn’t finished yet: “Which leads us to Phonophobia: The Second Coming by Extreme Noise Terror. Or perhaps not…”

Too late, you’ve said it now.

Phonophobia: The Second Coming is an album by Extreme Noise Terror, and this is one of the songs on it:

Peelie would be proud.

How do you follow that? With this:

Thank goodness for Rol from My Top Ten who kindly steps in to suggest this, which in his eyes “seems an obvious winner”

Frankly, if we’re going to mention bands with the word City in their name, I don’t think we can justifiably omit this lot:

“The other obvious one”, Rol continues undeterred, and I’ll let him carry on because I can’t quite work out where else to place this, “is to jump to Radiohead (as they took their name from a Talking Heads song) and Street Spirit (because there are lots of streets in cities…)

He’s not wrong, there are. I counted at least seven near where I live just the other day, and I think I may have missed some.

I hadn’t finished with bands with City in their names. This lot are definitely less renowned than Mr McKeown and the gang (Bay City Rollers, not Radiohead) and are named after 2000AD’s Judge Dredd comic strip. Play this one loud:

And so we move on to songs with the word City in the title (that aren’t called In the City). You know how until that last little spurt I’ve hardly suggested anything so far? Consider that ended. Eyes down and here we go with the almost entirely forgotten about:

…to an often overlooked gem:

…and the never to be forgotten:

A sort of clever one: this was released on City Rockers, a label synonymous with the electro-clash sound of the early 2000s:

And we shouldn’t overlook this brace of bangers:

…which almost inevitably leads us here:…

…which leads me to this spoof record, but it’s a spoof of a song which doesn’t have a city in it’s title, but I’m sure you’ll get it:

And finally, I was very surprised that absolutely nobody suggested anything from PJ Harvey’s magnificent Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea album, so I guess I’ll have to:

I’m stalling because it feels slightly disingenuous to be suggesting we go on a world tour just as so many cities around the world are locking down to prevent travel and the potential spreading of the Corona virus, so can I ask that you all don your face masks, smear yourselves in hand sanitiser like it’s goose fat before you attempt to swim the Channel, don’t stand so close to me and we’ll be off, safely.

But where to start? “Something from Gerry Rafferty’s very fine City To City album perhaps?” pipes up Rigid Digit again, which seems a perfectly good suggestion, and I’ve plumped, somewhat obviously, for the title track:

And it’s to Rigid Digit that we turn to yet again as we herald the start of The Chain World Tour which, given some places like my beloved Wales have gone into circuit-breaking lockdown today, I must say I feel a teensy bit guilty about, but, nevertheless, here we go.

Truly, there can only be one song to kick this off, and as Rigid quotes: “London, Paris, New York, Munich.  Everybody talk about…:

“I was beaten to M,” moans The Great Gog, “but other songs name-checking a number of cities that sprang to mind were…:”

…and…

Not forgetting, as Martin from New Amusements points out, a song which (apart from the Hang the DJ bit) perhaps most perfectly encapsulates where we are right now:

Ok, let’s start, with a whistle-stop tour of the UK. Here’s The Robster:

“I was going to suggest the wonderful Theme For Great Cities but Swiss Adam beat me to it! So I decided to think about songs ABOUT cities. Then I realised I’d be suggesting about 4 million songs and you’d hate me more than I’d hate myself! So in the end I plumped for one city. It was going to be Newport, but the only songs about us are parodies and parodies of parodies. So I chose our neighbours instead and came up with…:

I’m not sure why The Robster thinks this lot only do parodies. Funny songs, of course: it’s their stock in trade. I mean, sure this one is a parody, but it’s the only one I know which actually mentions The Mighty ‘Port in it’s title, and (sorry Rob) from the short time I lived there, seems wholly accurate to me:

Let’s head up to Birmingham next, and I’ll hand the reins back to Swiss Adam for a moment, for he is quoting lines from the source material to guide us to our next destination.

“Birmingham ‘lots of rich people’….” (although I think Byrne was probably referring to B’ham, Alabama.)

For those of us old enough to remember, it’s hard to forget when they fell foul of a Government clause of the 1981 Broadcasting Act which prohibited the broadcast of direct statements by representatives or supporters of 11 Irish political and paramilitary organisations. The restrictions were part of the Thatcher government’s desire to prevent Sinn Féin from employing the media for political advantage.

Yeh, I know. Dry subject.

What this meant in practical terms was that when, in 1987, they appeared on Friday Night Live , a Thames Television programme hosted by Ben Elton, they played Streets of Sorrow but the broadcaster cut to an ad break before they got to Birmingham Six.

Ridiculous as the rules were, a loop-hole meant that we were allowed to hear what Sinn Fein (the political arm of the IRA) had to say, but we could not hear them spoken by a member of the political party. Generally what this meant was the words were read by an actor with a plummy Home Counties accent, but the ludicrousness of the situation was highlighted here, on The Day Today:

This next song actually mentions bombing in Birmingham, although it means it in the “not going down to well at a gig” sense, rather than the more literal interpretation:

In these times of Tiers and Lockdown, I’m not sure we’ll get any better advice than to ‘start drinking til we’re blind’ (again, metaphorically of course – I don’t want any of us to end up in one of those adverts asking people to sponsor a puppy); I know it’s what has got me through writing this post, for a start.

“This mentions Birmingham, Alabama”, offers PhonicPat, and he’s not wrong, it does:

But we’re not quite ready to go trans-Atlantic, because here’s The Robster again:

“I have another one, this time referring to my Devon roots. The nearest city to where I grew up was Exeter – so:”

What I love about IDLES, apart from their records, is that they’re so bloody angry about everything, even their name is in capital letters like they’re shouting that too.

Catchphrase time! Well, if you’re having that, then I’m having this, a song about the nearest city to where I grew up, but where IDLES are VERY ANGRY! about how shit Exeter is, The Long Blondes are just a wee bit disappointed with how dull Peterborough is:

Staying in the UK, here’s Stevie from Charity Chic Music who takes us (much) further Up North:

David Byrne was born in Scotland – Dumbarton to be precise.  So the link is obviously:”

…which not only gets added to the ever-growing pile marked: ‘Must Investigate Further’, it also allows me to include this, which the title obviously references:

Since that also mentions Berlin, we may as well pop over to Europe, y’know, whilst we still can, without having to incorporate a two-week stay in a car park in Kent. Here’s another suggestion from Martin:

Well, this all seems to have got rather gloomy rather quickly. But I have an idea! Let’s pop over to the former capital of Turkey to liven things up a bit:

It became very apparent as I was sifting through the suggestions that there were two cities which featured more than any other, so, after a spot of self-isolation, we’ll pop back to the one in the UK: That London. And first up is another suggestion from Phonic Pat which takes us on a nice little (if expensive) tour of the city:

Here’s Swiss Adam again, quoting lines from the source record:

“…a small city, dark in the day time…”

…and suggesting this absolute shoe-in:

And here’s Martin again with two further capital suggestions:

“For when one is tired of London, one is tired of life, right?” adds Martin. Try telling Alan that:

Obligatory Alan Partridge clip? Tick!

One more from Martin, “…because I love them so…” (me too, mate, me too):

Sticking with Martin’s stream of suggestions, let’s hop over to the other city which seems to be mentioned in song titles more than any other:

“Decidedly not a cover of Ol’ Blue Eyes”, Martin adds. Well no: there’s a more liberal use of the F-word than Sinatra ever committed to record for a start. Plus, without wishing to be pedantic (he says as he is about to do just that), the Sinatra song Martin refers to is actually called Theme from New York, New York, so there was never any real danger of confusion. This next one though, less so:

That’s what being brought up listening to Radio 2 does for you: you remember records like that.

You won’t be surprised to read that I’ve got loads of these, the next of which is by someone who gets a bad rap for being a bit square (I think that’s it; I certainly don’t recall him having done anything unmentionable, apart from Uptown Girl of course), but I think he’s written some absolute corkers, and this is one of them:

New York, here we are, and here’s Odyssey to tell us we fit right in:

When The Strokes released their wonderful and never-bettered debut album Is This It? in 2001 (God, that makes me feel old), there was a difference between the UK and the US release, for the UK release included this, presumably omitted from the US release because it probably wasn’t considered to sit well so close in the wake of 9/11:

Back in time now, to the first record I ever bought, sort of. You can read about that here but in case you can’t be bothered (and if you’ve got this far I can’t blame you for feeling a bit wiped out) here it is:

Remember about seven hours ago, just after The BPA tune, I asked you to remind me to give you a Pet Shop Boys factoid? Well, the time is now: before he worked for Smash Hits magazine (my gateway drug to pop music before I grew up/discovered the NME) Neil Tennant used to work for Marvel Comics, editing out any hint of nipple from the cartoons contained within the pages of the heralded comic book. And that’s not even as funny as the rumour Stuart Maconie made up about him being a fully qualified Rugby League referee.

Anyway, here’s the Pet Shop Boys:

Hold up, Swiss is back with his quoting lyrics and suggesting songs ways:

“Memphis: ‘home of Elvis and the ancient Greeks’”

Leading him here:

And if you’re going to mention Memphis, you either have to include something by a certain Mr Presley (not Reg), or make a joke about being dead on a toilet eating a burger, or post this:

Funnily enough, Mr Simon is going in the opposite direction to Ian Hunter and the Mott the Hoople crew, as suggested by Phonic Pat:

And here’s a group who are considering a move to a completely different part of the US of A:

But as we all know, there’s only one place in America that one should consider moving to:

And that’s where I intended to sign off, were it not for one final suggestion from Martin:

“Oh, and can I add Vegas by Sleeper, just because… well, okay, just because of Louise Wener, really.”

Of course you can: if it doesn’t get cancelled as opposed to being forever rescheduled, I’ll be going to see them perform their debut album Smart, sometime, along with this morning’s postees The Bluetones doing the same with their debut album Expecting to Fly:

And that’s yer lot, except to reveal the actual next record in the actual Chain, which nobody suggested.

Here’s the link: “Talking Heads had a female bassist. So did…

Which just leaves me to ask for your suggestions for songs which link to 1979 by The Smashing Pumpkins, to be submitted via either the Comments function on this page, or if you prefer anonymity that you ultimately won’t be afforded, by email to dubioustaste26@gmail.com

More soon.

Be Llŷrious

It’s funny. When you lose somebody, you expect that there will be certain dates where you miss them more than other days, when their absence is suddenly all the more noticeable.

I’m talking about their birthday, Christmas, the anniversary of their passing.

What I didn’t expect and which hit me really hard last year, was how much you miss them on your own birthday.

And so here I am, turning another year older tomorrow, and very aware that the day will not be blessed with any contact with my friend Llŷr. No spontaneous phone call, no text, WhatsApp message, no nothing.

My mind floats back to happier times.

The problem with having your birthday so close to the end of the month, is that more often than not, it falls just before payday, so everyone is too skint to do anything to mark the occasion.

Worse still, when it lands on a pre-payday Monday, as it did one year when Llŷr and I were living in The Flat of Filth in Cardiff. Post-work, I was slumped in my recovered-from-the-street-washing-up-bowl-for-a-seat chair, idly flicking through the TV channels, when Llŷr barrelled into the living room.

“Happy birthday dude!” he chirped, and I was aware that he was standing next to me, holding something out for me to take.

My coat.

“Cheers,” I said, before adding, rather confused, “why have you got my coat?”

“We’re going out. Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Out. Come on.”

“It’s Monday. There’s nowhere to go.”

“Yes there is,” he persisted. “Come on.”

Still befuddled, I got to my feet, took my coat from him, followed him out the door. Confused as I was, I knew it wouldn’t be anything bad or that would cause me pain or embarrassment. I trusted him.

We walked into town, him still refusing to give me any clues about what the night held for us. Arriving in the city centre, we called into The Rummer Tavern for a pint or two. He kept checking his watch all the time we sat there.

Then, eventually, he necked his pint, encouraged me to do the same, and beckoned me outside again. “Come on, time to go.”

And off we set again, this time stopping at the doors of Clwb Ifor Bach, where he pulled two tickets from his wallet and handed them over to the indie girl at the desk. Next thing I knew, I was following him as he bounded upstairs, heading to the top floor, with it’s tiny stage and even tinier bar (this is not a criticism, by the way. It’s precisely because both are so tiny that Clwb is such a special venue.)

Another pint thrust into my hand, Llŷr led me through the sparse crowd to front left of stage, where he finally turned to me and, when I asked, again, who we were here to see, he grinned the words: “Art Brut”.

This would have been a few months before the release of their debut album in 2005, but we had both fallen in love with their debut single Formed a Band which we’d caught, and he’d doubtless recorded knowing him, numerous times on one of the many music channels we subscribed to.

Here’s the original single version which came out in March 2004; it’s a little scuzzier, less polished than the version which ended up on the album, which fits the lyrical content better to my mind:

They played an absolute barn-stormer of a set that night, playing pretty much every song which would end up on their brilliant Bang Bang Rock & Roll debut album. We danced and drank and whooped and clapped and cheered and joined in with songs we didn’t know, most memorably the chant of “Art Brut – Top of the Pops!”

After the gig, we made our way back to the bar, where I waited as Llŷr popped to the gents. Sensible lad, it’s along walk home. I did what I always do in such situations: looked around and thought how much older I looked than all the bright young things milling about me, speculating whether they thought I was there to collect my offspring, or whether I was security. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

As I stood there, like the biblical parting of the waves, a lanky man with a side-parting, moustache and skinny black tie, sweat dripping from every pore, forced himself through the crowd: Eddie Argos, lead singer of Art Brut. I instinctively offered my hand, which he took and shook. “Great gig!” I heard myself saying, which earned the reply: “Thank you. Thank you very much. Is this the way to the dressing room?”

I don’t have adventures like this anymore.

So, yeh. What I mean is: miss you dude.

More soon.

Same Title, Different Song

And blimey, are they different.

First up, from 1987, a pioneering example of sampling:

M/A/R/R/S – Pump Up The Volume

And by way of utter contrast, from twenty years later, a song about having to break away from getting it on to make sure your partner is fully appreciating the effort you have put into the soundtrack to your getting jigginess:

Art Brut – Pump Up The Volume

Both brilliant in their own sweet way.

More soon.

Sales Pitch

Regular readers will know that a pet hate of mine is TV adverts, and the songs that are hijacked and inserted into them.

In the past, I’ve written several posts where I attempt to deconstruct the advert in question, and explain why the song they’ve chosen to soundtrack it is not an appropriate one.

I’m wondering, though, if perhaps it might be better if I offered some more constructive criticism, and maybe ways to improve it.

So let’s give it a go.

There’s an advert currently airing in the UK which I imagine you’ve all seen. Here’s how it goes: a hipster-bearded middle-aged man leaps from his bed where he and his lady partner have just exchanged happy, satisfied glances (and doubtless much more). He dances, struts and swaggers his way from the bedroom, down the stairs, where his partner joins him for a brief dance before he goes outside into the bright sunshine. The camera pans up to the blue sky as voiceover man announces “4.3 million men in the UK experience erectile problems” before the product being advertised fades into shot.

Yup, it’s Pele’s favourite: Viagra.

(4.3 million sounds like a lot, doesn’t it? Although, I think it’s probably a conservative estimate. I mean, presumably they’re basing that figure on the amount of sales achieved when it was a prescription-only product, when blunted swordsmen gave in and visited their GP to seek help with their little problem. And men are notoriously reluctant to go the GP at all, let alone when they have to go through the embarrassment of explaining their current predicament, often preferring to stumble on using a rudimentary winch and pulley system fashioned out of a couple of elastic bands and a lollipop stick instead.)

Anyway, in the background (of the advert, not in the GP’s surgery), this is playing:

p04wxxl3

Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel – Make Me Smile (Come Up And See Me)

See what they did there? They made a joke. Well, (ahem) a semi one. Viagra. Up. Do you see? It’s very clever.

But I reckon there’s a better way this could have been done.

I’ll explain.

I think that there are two types of advert which are most effective. The first is where there is a series of adverts, each a new episode following on from the last, which tell a story. Perhaps the most famous example is the late 1980s/early 1990s ad campaign for Gold Blend coffee.

For those of you too annoyingly young to know what I’m referring to, the ad campaign in question ran from 1987 to 1993, and starred Anthony Head and Sharon Maughan as Tony and Sharon, a couple who begin a slow-burning romance after she moves into an adjoining apartment to him, and knocks on his door to ask if he has any coffee she can borrow to satisfy her dinner party guests.

Here’s that first ‘episode’ in all it’s naff glory:

The Gold Blend Couple advert ran for a total of twelve individual adverts, and as the series progressed, each drew more and more attention from the media, drawn into the “will they/won’t they” plot. So, essentially: free advertising on top of the paid-for advertising.

The second type of advert which I think is often effective is the one where you’re not quite sure what it is that’s being advertised. These also often form part of a sequence of adverts, but usually the additional adverts are shown if not within the same ad break, then within the ad breaks interrupting the one programme.

In my proposal, I’m not suggesting a sequence of twelve adverts – attention spans are not what they once were. Instead, I’m suggesting four “episodes”, each with a different, appropriate song to soundtrack it. Four adverts would sit quite nicely within one sixty minute television programme (in the UK anyway), as there are generally ad breaks at around the 10-15 minute mark, another at around 25-30, a third at 40-45 and then the final one as the show ends.

So I’m suggesting a combination of the two types of advert I’ve mentioned, where a story is told over those four adverts/episodes, but where you are not entirely sure what is being sold until the third one.

Even better, my ad campaign would bring back Tony and Sharon from the Gold Blend ads. Let’s face it, it’s over thirty years since the original Gold Blend ad campaign first aired, so Tony (and I must stress at this point, in case any lawyers happen to be reading, I categorically mean the character Tony and not the actor Antony Head, who I’m sure is among the most virile of men) is bang in the age group likely to need the services of the little blue pill. Also, this way there is no need to worry about dialogue or introducing the characters, we all know who they are: it’s Tony and Sharon from those old Gold Blend adverts. Our minds go back to that golden age when the nation was captivated by their budding romance. What have they been up to since then? How nice to see they’re still together and going strong!

Here’s how the ads would run.

Ad 1: The camera opens on a close-up of Tony’s eyes, viewed from above. It pulls back and we can see that he is laying on his back on one side of a double bed. He is clearly naked, but has a sheet across his lower half to protect his modesty. Not a word is spoken, but it is evident from the look on his face that he is worried, upset, embarrassed. The camera stops just as it becomes apparent that there is someone laying alongside him; there is a hint of a form, a shadow, but crucially it does not reveal who this person is.

And to soundtrack this ad:

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Art Brut – Rusted Guns Of Milan

Ad 2The camera opens on a close-up of Sharon’s eyes, viewed from above. It pulls back and we can see that she is laying on her back on one side of a double bed, the other side to the one we saw Tony laying on earlier. She is also clearly naked, but has a sheet across her to protect her modesty. Not a word is spoken, but it is evident from the look on her face that she is disappointed, frustrated, embarrassed. A wicked smile plays across her lips, and she glances in the direction of the person laying in bed next to her (who we still do not see, but we all know it’s Tony). She reaches over to her bedside cabinet and opens the drawer, but crucially we do not see what is in there or what it is she is reaching for.

And to soundtrack this ad:

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Elastica – Stutter

Ad 3: We rejoin Tony, the camera in exactly the same place as at the end of Ad 1. Not a word is spoken, but we can hear a buzzing noise. Tony sits up, looking disbelieving, offended looks towards the other side of the bed. He flops back onto the bed, before a look of steely determination takes over his face. He reaches to his own bedside cabinet, and pulls open the drawer. This time, we do see what is in there: a packet of Viagra.

And to soundtrack this ad (with the music kicking in as he opens the drawer):

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AC/DC – Let’s Get It Up

Ad 4Is exactly the same as the Viagra advert currently airing, with exactly the same tune, but re-shot with a satisfied Tony and Sharon frugging their way out of bed.

Good, eh?

To my boss, Kay: if you’re reading this, I’m very happy at work and definitely do not want a career change.

To any advertising types who may be reading: I didn’t mean all the nasty things I’ve said about you in previous posts. All said for comic effect, you understand.

Apropos of nothing, a reminder that I can be contacted via the Comments section, by email or on Twitter, details of which can be found somewhere on this page.

More soon.

That Summer Feeling #23

For many youngsters in the UK, today is the first day of the summer holidays, so today’s post seems rather appropriate.

Lifted from their third album, here’s some Art Brut:

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Art Brut – Summer Job

Be a nice change to get served in shops by stroppy, disenfranchised teenagers instead of bored, disinterested adults for a few weeks, won’t it?

I’ve loved Art Brut and lead singer Eddie Argos’s witty lyrics and, shall we say, distinctive vocal style since the moment Llyr and I first stumbled across their debut single back in 2004. It’s a glorious yelp of youth, an announcement of arrival, coupled with an archness, a knowingness and it steals the thunder of any critics who don’t like his “singing voice” before they have chance to fire up their laptops to pen a scathing diatribe: “It’s not irony, it’s not rock’n’roll, we’re just talking to The Kids!”

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Art Brut – Formed a Band

Love it. There’s a slightly more polished version on their debut album “Bang Bang Rock’n’Roll” which, if you don’t own, you really should. Or just stick around, I’ll find an excuse to post more from it sooner or later.

More soon.