Spooky

Frankly, Halloween pisses me off.

It’s the reason that I live in a first floor flat, and also the reason I make sure my doorbell is permanently de-batteried.

But ok, if I absolutely must join in:

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Dusty Springfield – Spooky

Happy now?

Good.

Now don’t throw any eggs at my windows.

More soon.

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Sunday Morning Coming Down

I featured an album by today’s artist in my series about vinyl I’ve purchased recently which seemed to go down rather well, so I thought I’d share with you my favourite track by them this morning.

Sometimes songs come into your life by slightly unconventional means. I first remember hearing this song when it featured in TV drama Cracker, in a storyline where a lab technician always plays it whilst preparing to murder her unsuspecting student victims.

Personally, I think there’s something quite Scott Walker/Jacques Brel about it, which is rarely a bad thing in my book.

It also, since we both did a double-take when we each named this as our favourite Dusty record shortly after meeting, reminds me of one of my best friends. (Hello!)

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Dusty Springfield –  I Close My Eyes And Count To Ten

Stunning.

More soon.

Replenishing The Vinyl

Following on from last week’s post about Voice of the Beehive, we move back to 1964 and the first solo album by probably the most famous beehive wearer, marginally ahead of Amy Winehouse and Peggy Bundy.

I speak, of course, of Dusty Springfield.

‘A Girl Called Dusty’ is very much a showcase album; recorded shortly after The Springfields had split, and after, but oddly not featuring, her debut hit “I Only Want To Be With You”, it contains a mixture of pop songs, and marks her first collaboration with legendary song-writing duos Burt Bacharach and Hal David, and Gerry Goffin and Carole King.

Here’s the pick of them:

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Dusty Springfield – You Don’t Own Me

Dusty Springfield – When the Lovelight Starts Shining Thru His Eyes

Dusty Springfield – Twenty-Four Hours from Tulsa

Dusty Springfield – Will You Love Me Tomorrow

Dusty Springfield – Wishin’ and Hopin’

More soon.

Friday Night Music Club

Regular visitors to the shores of Dubious Taste will know that I compile these weekly Friday Night playlists based on a couple of tunes that I hear during my daily commute to and from work. Sometimes, my permanently-on-shuffle iPod will play me something which instantly makes me think of a theme for the week, or which reminds me of another song, or just gives me a couple of songs which sound good next together.

Sometimes, and it’s a rare event, the stars align and all three happen. Such was the case with this week’s playlist. Since I only had four days in work this week, this was an absolute blessing.

So, shall we get cracking?

Twice a year, the clocks change in the UK. The event is always preceded by many conversations of the “Wait – is that the good one or the bad one?” variety. People here in the UK will often complain when the clocks go forward (the “bad one”), moaning that they have an hour less in bed on Saturday night/Sunday morning. I’ve never understood this. Unless you have somewhere to be on a Sunday, why on earth would you change the clocks before you get out of bed on the Sunday? Just stay in bed until whatever time you like, get up, and then change the clocks. Lose an hour of your day instead of your night, if you like night so much.

And for those who are not in the UK and have no idea what I’m banging on about…I really can’t be bothered to explain why we change the time twice a year, other than because we can. Go Google it if you’re that interested.

Anyway, Tuesday morning started badly for me. I had gone to great lengths to remind all of my work colleagues that the clocks were to go forward on Easter Sunday, had done the same when visiting my parents over the weekend, and then wouldn’t you just know it, totally forgot to change my own alarm clock when I got home on Monday, which led me to over sleep on Tuesday morning. A mad scramble to shower and get to work if not on time, then not too late, followed. (Luckily my boss had done something similar, sending me a text to apologise as she was also running late, having missed her train.)

My iPod had me covered though. Here’s what it decided to play me:

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204. Dusty Springfield – I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself

When your day starts so badly that you’re still getting dressed as you’re waiting at the bus stop (my apologies to the neighbours: that wasn’t a wardrobe malfunction you witnessed, it was a life malfunction, like that makes it any better), the sound of Dusty breathing into your ears certainly settles the nerves.

And then my iPod gave me this:

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205. Teenage Fanclub – I Need Direction

Admittedly, not one of my favourites by The Fannies, but I sensed a certain neediness in my iPods selections, a sense which was only confirmed by the next choice:

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206. Peter Frampton – Show Me The Way

I don’t feel I know him well enough to call him Pete.

Frampton first found fame in the late 1960s as a member of The Herd, where he was dubbed “the Face of 68” (that’s the year, not a slightly disappointing sexual position), which led to the band attracting a somewhat teen audience, which caused issues with the less pretty members of the band. (Also in the band: one Andy Bown, who has been an official member of The Quo ever since 1977. Read into that what you will).

They split shortly afterwards, and Frampton was recruited into Humble Pie, Steve Marriott’s first post-Small Faces project. Despite some modicum of success, Frampton quit in 1971 to go solo.

But despite his early success as part of the aforementioned bands, Frampton’s first three solo albums tanked, and it wasn’t until the release of “Frampton Comes Alive!” in 1976 that his fortunes finally changed. This is not the sort of career path that many artists take: I can’t think of another act who released three consecutive albums to an increasingly lukewarm reaction, and who then decided, with his record label’s blessing, the way to turn things round was to release a live album (although I do wonder if he’d signed a four album deal and this was just a way of fulfilling his contractual obligations).

But work it did, in no small part to his use of the “talk box” on today’s choice, that odd “wah-wah-wah-wah-wah” noise that forms the solo part of the song.

And yes, I know we’re all supposed to laugh at Frampton and poke fun at his records, but “Show Me The Way” fulfills one of the criteria which allows us to like such things, namely: has a band we all agree are cool done a cover version which is not seemingly ironic? The answer here is a resounding “yes”:

Anyway, by now, a theme for my playlist had been identified: being lost, needing help, and then getting advice, instructions or orders. I set about, as I always do, trying to think of songs which fit my self-imposed remit.

Which brings me on to the next track. A couple of weeks ago, I got sent one of those things on Facebook where someone asks you to name your favourite bands, songs, etc; this one was asking me to name 12 albums which had “stayed with me”, which I took to mean albums that meant as much to me now as when I bought them, rather than albums which have become like an unwelcome lodger, sleeping on the sofa, eating crisps, and leaving floaters in the toilet. Although, Lord knows I have plenty of records that fit that description.

One of my choices was this one:

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207. The Housemartins – Over There

I loved The Housemartins, and I’m slightly surprised this is the first song I’ve posted by them. Seriously, what’s not to love about a band who are modest enough to refer to themselves as “the fourth best band from Hull”, who had a penchant for wearing rather fetching cardigans, who were often asked in interviews about their collection of crisp packets, who spawned Fatboy Slim and The Beautiful South, and who also had a drummer who in 1993 was sentenced to spend six years at Her Majesty’s Pleasure for assaulting his former business associate with an axe and setting fire to his house. Three times.

Next up, from the days when 7″ singles didn’t even have picture sleeves, and when Smokey Robinson was still just Bill “Smokey” Robinson, and his band were still just The Miracles and not Smokey Robinson and The Miracles:

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208. The Miracles – Way Over There

Dusty and Smokey in the same post. I spoil you, I really do. I may also have just invented two new hand puppets to go with Sooty and Sweep.

Moving back to the 1980s now, and an absolute classic, and one which had every kid at my school attempted to do both the rap and the rock parts at school discos:

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209. Run-DMC [feat. Aerosmith] – Walk This Way

By the time this came out, we were used to rap records sampling rock records, but this was the first time we had heard two acts from the different spheres actually performing together.

So, whilst we’re fusing musical styles in  way that would make Richard Vranch jealous (obscure 1980s television reference for you there) here’s some folksters covering some rock:

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210. The Folksmen – Start Me Up

For those of you not in the know, “A Mighty Wind” is a film brought to you by the same folks as one of the greatest, funniest movies ever: “This is Spinal Tap”. I doubt there is a single music blogger out there who doesn’t adore the endlessly quotable “…Spinal Tap” and “A Mighty Wind”, though less quotable than “…Spinal Tap” does for the world of folk what “…Spinal Tap” did for the world of rock: it affectionately mocks it.

Indeed, The Folksmen are none other Jerry Palter (played by Michael McKean, or David St Hubbins in “…Spinal Tap”), Alan Barrows (Christopher Guest/Nigel Tufnel) and Mark Shubb (Harry Shearer/Derek Smalls). If you haven’t watched it, I urge you to rectify that as soon as possible. I love it almost, but not quite, as much as I love “This is Spinal Tap”, which is bloody loads.

Next, a similarly folky sounding bunch who the internet seems to know very little about. From their one and only album, originally released in 1985 on Go! Discs, but recently picked up and re-released by Cherry Red (Gawd bless ’em) and available here, ladies and gents I give you The Boothill Foot-Tappers:

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211. The Boothill Foot-Tappers – Get Your Feet Out Of My Shoes

I remember reading about them in Smash Hits and being immediately intrigued, but found it difficult to actually track down anything by them. A couple of years later, after we had finished our shift in the motorway restaurant we both had the misfortune to work at, my boss Jane and I would often go to her house, have a couple of drinks, play some records and have a bit of a sing-song (anyone who has ever lived with me knows that this is one of my most basic pleasures in life, and actually is the conception of the Friday Night Music Club).

On one such occasion, I was flicking through her vinyl collection (not a euphemism) and found she had a copy of this album. We popped it on, and I immediately adored it. I left her flat clutching a copy on a C-90 cassette, along with her vinyl copy of Kate Bush’s “The Kick Inside” album, which she told me I could keep for reasons that I can’t quite recall. I still have them both to this day, though I haven’t seen or heard from Jane in about 20 years or so. Which tells you quite a bit about me, I guess.

For some reason, something tells me that Elvis Costello had something to do with them (producer…?), though I may be getting mixed up with his involvement with The Pogues’ “Rum Sodomy & The Lash” album, and being Mr Cait O’Riordan of early Pogues fame (although in 2008 she denied ever having been married to Costello, saying “We weren’t married…It was a kind of Muslim ‘I divorce you’ kind of thing.”)

Or maybe O’Riordan herself is the link, as in my attempts to find something, anything about them (other than numerous references to them being a cow-punk band who only ever released one album…thanks, knew that already!) I find that in 1983 Darryl Hunt intended to ask The Boothill’s Wendy May to join his jazz band “Pride of the Cross”, but when he mentioned this to O’Riordan she apparently laughed and told him that she ought to do it. I dunno. It’s a real head-scratcher and no mistake. Answers on a postcard please (or in the Comments Section would be better).

I digress. Let’s have another tune.

Some of you may recall that I’m in the process of adding the first 75 “Now…!” albums onto my iPod and the next choice was the first that it randomly gave me from the second volume:

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212. Matt Bianco – Get Out Of Your Lazy Bed

Do you remember back in the 1980s, when Saturday morning television wasn’t an endless stream of cookery programmes, but were actually a load of shows aimed at keeping kids preoccupied for a couple of hours? Often, the shows would have pop stars of the day in the studio, and they would be subjected to a phone-in. This was revolutionary at the time, the first time that the general public had been allowed to interact with celebrities, a precursor to Twitter if you will.

People of a certain age will know exactly where I’m going with this:

Priceless.

There’s only one way to follow that, from the 9th “Now..!” volume:

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213. 5 Star – Stay Out Of My Life

People of a certain age will know exactly where I’m going with this too:

Equally priceless.

Moving swiftly on, to a chap who needs no introduction:

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214. Tom Jones – Help Yourself

He knew Elvis Presley, you know. Keeps it quiet, though. Rarely mentions it.

Something a little more contemporary next:

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215. Lykke Li – Get Some

Thought my earlier mention of Andy Bown was going to be the only Quo reference this week? Think again (with obligatory take-down busting mis-spelling):

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216. Quaters Toe – Whatever You Want

Now, you can all laugh about my love of all things Quo, but it turns out even I have limits. In 2008, I found out just what those limits were: a duet with German techno outfit Scooter.

Jesus wept, I’d forgotten just how  horrendous that is. If “Walk This Way” is the finest example of rock and rap working sublimely then that is the polar opposite. My ears, my ears! Is it possible to unhear something?

When I started seeking out songs which fitted this week’s theme I initially came up with about ten. As I started writing this post, loads more came to mind, far too many to cover in just one week. So, you lucky people, you get Part 2 next week. I actually prefer next week’s. That’s what I believe is known as “a teaser”, though having just posted the above video you could be forgiven for never darkening my doorstep again.

I can’t possibly leave you with that last monstrosity ringing in your ears, so this seems an appropriate record to finish on:

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217. The Smiths – I Started Something I Couldn’t Finish

Deep breaths, that’s the way. And relax. Normality restored.

More so

How Not To Do a Cover Version

Following on from my earlier post where I talked about how my listening habits had changed, I’ve realised that sometimes I really don’t help myself.

One of the reasons I listen to music almost entirely on shuffle these days is because that way every now and then my iPod throws up a little golden nugget, or the idea of what to write about next on here.

Recently, I have *ahem* come to own the first 75 albums in the “Now That’s What I Call Music!” series, which I’m currently in the process of uploading onto my iPod.

Masochist that I apparently am, I decided that rather than be selective about what to add, I would simply upload each and every one and see which ones were chosen for my aural delectation.

The plus side of this is that my memory has been jogged about certain records that I had forgotten all about (Kenny Thomas, anyone?), or I’m intrigued about some that I knew nothing about in the first place (just who were 2wo Third3 and what made them think spelling their name like that was in any way a good idea??).

Actually, now I’ve written that, I’m not so sure either of those can be considered plus points.

On the down side (as if that wasn’t bad enough) I now own far more Tina Turner songs from her late 80s/early 90s period than I ever care to hear.

In short, I have turned my iPod into a revolver in a game of musical Russian Roulette, only there are bullets in 5 of the 6 chambers, not just 1.

I’m already wondering if this was a good idea.

Yesterday, this experiment bore its first fruits, and wouldn’t you just know it, it’s getting used in this section, where I post fucking terrible cover versions of great records.

There’s been several covers over the years of today’s choice, but none so arse-clenchingly awful as this. Brace yourselves. I’m about to type three words I never thought I would.

Here’s Samantha Fox:

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Samantha Fox – I Only Wanna Be With You

And yes, that’s our old friends PWL at the helm, sucking the life out of the original, replacing it with their own special brand of bland.

Quick, nurse! He’s out of bed again! We need the original!

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Dusty Springfield – I Only Want To Be With You

Too late. I need to shower and wash the PWL stink off.

More, better, soon.

Rue Britannia

Ok. So. Here we go. 1984. The year I have to try and wax lyrical about. And as you will have guessed from my intro to the last post, a year I’ve been struggling with.

Let me add some context.

1984. The year that Thatcher won her second General Election, I think it’s fair to say (though it sticks in my throat) trouncing Labour’s Michael Foot. Foot did not look like your common-or-garden politician, and was a true left-winger (and I don’t mean in the Ryan Giggs kind of way. And when. I make a reference to Ryan Giggs, I don’t mean in that kind of way, either. Well not on this occasion, anyway). Foot is as relevant today as he ever was, for he is the current yard-stick for those who want to keep the Labour Party in the centre ground – which they so shamefully currently occupy – rather than on the left, where they should be, by making comparisons between his annihalation in this General Election and that which, they say, awaits the Labour Party if Jeremy Corbyn wins (they’re wrong). And whilst I’m at it: Tony Blair, keep your fecking nose out. You led us into an illegal war and now milk the after-dinner speech circuit for all its worth. You are a Tory in everything but name. Your opinion means nothing.

Ahem. Off my chest now. Where were we? Oh yes..:

1984. The year the Miners Strike started. I’m going to assume you know at least something about this. If you don’t, well a) you’re annoyingly young, and b) may I suggest a bloody tidy jumping on point is to watch the excellent “Pride” (It has Paddy Considine, Bill Nighy and Dominic West in it, the latter with a fabulous 80s haircut. What more can you want from a film??) Just watching those two clips makes me want to watch it again. Hope it does you too.

1984. The year of Frankie Goes To Hollywood. I wish I could put my hand on my heart and say I bought any of their records at the time – particularly “Relax” and “Two Tribes“, but I didn’t. However, I did stand back, watch and admire the way they capitalised on the whole Mike Read situation (he was playing “Relax” one morning, and took it off, mid-record, branding it “obscene”). And if there’s one thing we now know, it’s that Mike Read is the very epitome of rational thought. (I give you two words: UKIP Calypso) (For Gawd’s sake, sense my tone…)

1984. The year of Band Aid, when a group of “current” (has Jody Watley ever been current???) pop stars (has Jody Watley ever been a pop star?????) were pulled together by ex-Boomtown Rat Bob Geldof and current-if-knackered (see, this is where I start to doubt my own sanity. In the video for “Love’s Great Adventure”, there was definitely a bit where Midge asks the film crew to stop while he has a breather. Right? Right????) Ultravox frontman Midge Ure to record “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” in an effort to help starving millions in Ethiopia, after seeing Michael Buerk‘s report on the news, a record which everybody in the UK seemed to buy, and which you know, so I won’t bother posting a link to it here.

Which seems a convenient jumping off point for not the first record I bought in 1984, but the record which somehow got attached to the whole Band Aid campaign, seemingly solely because of the lines “You can’t go on, thinking nothing’s wrong”.

The_Cars_-_Drive The Cars – “Drive”

I’m sure they were delighted, or at least pretended to be, when “Drive” got re-released with “all proceeds” going to the Band Aid charity. And was a bigger hit than it was the first time around (I think…)

Me? I cannot hear this song without thinking of one thing, and sadly that one thing I can find no reference to anywhere on t’internet, other than one other person insisting it happened: Kevin Webster, drunk, singing an a capella version of it on Coronation Street. Seriously, you have no idea how much I wish I could post a link to it right here. Feel free to tell me you remember it too.

Ok, here’s a confessional Guilty Pleasure (No, there is no such thing as a Guilty Pleasure!!) record. Please bear in mind that in 1984 I was just 15 and didn’t know any better, and if I did, I thought it involved Status Quo, so you can choose which is worse:

philip-bailey-easy-lover-duet-with-phil-collins-1985 Philip Bailey & Phil Collins – “Easy Lover”

In my defence, in 1984 we knew very little about Phil Collins. All we had to go on was that he used to be/still was in Genesis, popped up with alarming regularity on Swap Shop or Saturday Superstore or whatever incarnation of Saturday morning TV on the BBC was on (regularly enough to make you think he was the new BA Robertson) and had a fairly succesful solo career doing Diana Ross covers. We did not know that “Sussudio” – the song with the most 80s bassline in the world. Ever…! – would earn extra brownie points for being mentioned (ironically, I think/hope) in American Psycho. We had no idea he was such a douchebag he would fax his wife to thrash out details of their divorce. But props for the use of a very 80s mode of communication. Nor did we know that that gorilla would boff the heck out of some drums on that Cadbury’s advert. It was just Phil Collins. He seemed harmless enough.

I cannot hear this song without thinking of the (slightly amended) “He’s a greasy lover…” introduction Mark Lamarr used to get on Shooting Stars, and which again, I can find no evidence of. So to make up for that, here’s him – at the end of the clip, and sadly cut short – doing “Mr Boombastic” on said kind-of-game show.

The other thing I remember most about owning this single is that shortly after purchase, a blob of what appeared to be raspberry jam appeared on the front cover, which I have never been able to explain (I’m more of a blackcurrant man, myself), and which frankly made storing my 7″ singles a bit of a nightmare from hereon in. Unable to remove the saccahrine splodge, I had to proceed to select which single I liked least and place that next to this in my ever growing singles box.

This is what you come here for, right? Anecdotes about singles I’ve absent-mindedly spilled preservatives on….? No….?

OK, well how about I give you the top two candidates to be the bread around the Phil Collins jam sandwich? Yeh, see? Now you’re interested, right? (Although the idea of a “Phil Collins sandwich” is kind of ewwwwwwwwwwww-y….)

Well, it must have been in 1984 that I abandoned any pretence of just buying records that I liked, and, in a fairly obvious attempt to ingratiate myself to members of the opposite sex, I started buying records that they liked, and which I hoped they would like me for also buying. What a dasterdly master-plan. That is the only explanation I have for the inclusion of the next two records:

Nik_Kershaw_The_Riddle_12__Cover Nik Kershaw – The Riddle

I Know, I know. There’s no excuse is there? It’s not as if this is a single from his famous, but still not actually very good, “Human Racing” album. I have always found this to be an utterly ludicrous record, with clunky 6th form, Tolkien-esque nerdo lyrics like this (trust me, I’m doing this so you don’t have to click that last link) :

“Near a tree by a river
There’s a hole in the ground
Where an old man of Aran
Goes around and around
And his mind is a beacon
In the veil of the night
For a strange kind of fashion
There’s a wrong and a right
But he’ll never, never fight over you”

What a load of old horseshit.

And speaking of old horseshit, there was this:

123_the_wild_boys_song_spain_006_20_0381_7_duranduran_com_duran_duran_discography_discogs_wikipedia Duran Duran – The Wild Boys

Yes. I bought this. Actually, I think I stole it from a reputable vendor of 7″ singles no longer with us. but either way, I possessed a copy, and the only justification I can think of, other than trying to impress girls (it didn’t work, by the way; they all just assumed I was gay, I was later told) was that I hoped that with enough plays on Top of the Pops, Simon Le Bon might actually fucking drown whilst tied to a windmill in that video.

Which leads me on to the other two significant episodes in my pop history which just so happened to occur in 1984.

Firstly, Britannia Music.

Anyone of a certain age will remember Britannia Music: firstly, because The Brits are named after them (like that’s a recommendation….) and secondly because in the 1980s you could not open a magazine without a “3 for £10” introductory offer falling out into your lap. And I fell for it.

Here was the deal: you could pick 3 albums and have them for £10; then you stayed as a member for as long as you liked, but had to purchase at least one album a month. And to help you keep your end of the contractual bargain, they would send you a little brochure each month, telling of their wares, and featuring an “Album of the Month”. If you didn’t want the “Album of the Month”, you had to tick a box on a form and send it back to them, pronto. Otherwise you got lumbered with whatever their Album of the Month was and had to pay for the privilege. I was often a little tardy, and consequently ended up with a lot of records I really didn’t want, more of which later. That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it.

Anyway, what this did do was allow me to indulge in my love of Greatest Hits albums, which led me to buy the next three:

Dusty-Springfield-Greatest-Hits-229304 Dusty Springfield – “I Close My Eyes And Count To Ten”

I can’t pretend this song is the reason why I bought this album – that distinction has to go to either “I Only Want To Be With You” or “You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me” But if I absolutely had to name my favourite 10 songs ever, “I Close My Eyes…” would be right in there, an absolute gem, all slow building breathiness followed by more glorious camp strings than a cub scout jamboree.

Speaking of camp…..

little_richard-greatest_hits_recorded_live Little Richard – “Tutti Frutti”

(Suddenly realises why the girls may have thought I was gay at school………)

buddy-lives Buddy Holly – “It Doesn’t Matter Anymore”

A song I was aware of through my father’s record collection, for he owned the Linda Rondstadt version. (That Don Kirschner chap is just the dictionary definition of charisma, isn’t he?)

Anyway, that’s the records I intentionally bought via Britannia, and here’s another, an actual record from your actual 1984:

Alison_Moyet_-_Alf Alison Moyet – “Invisible”

See, “electronic” music had at least crossed my radar, not that I would describe this as falling in that genre. But, as I’m sure you know, chicken-rearing Alison (a remembered Smash Hits fact, that) had been one half of Yazoo with Vince Clarke, ex-of Depeche Mode, soon-to-be of Erasure, and in-between jointly responsible for this. So, y’know, it wasn’t all about the guitars with me, even back then. Just mostly.

Invisible was the third single from the album, and I could have just as easily posted “All Cried Out”, but Invisible deftly sums up my appeal to the opposite sex at this point in my life. And for much of it afterwards, if I’m being honest. Which I am, of course.

As I write this now, I’m suddenly struck with how I much I love songs about either failed or unrequited love. It’s an empathy thing, I think. It would also explain why, two years earlier, in an example of what can only be described as the most optimistic thinking ever, I had told my best friend that when the situation arose that I had to finish with a girlfriend, I would simply quote the lyrics to this song to her: Chas. Dave.

Anyway, the second significant episode was my brother going to stay with relatives in America, and coming back tooled up with loads of records popular in The States but which had no impact on this side of the pond. Records which I listened to with growing interest:

One-On-One521X Cheap Trick – “If You Want My Love”

Rick-Springfield-Working-Class-Dog-446049 Rick Springfield – “Jessie’s Girl”

MI0003737936 The Call – The Walls Came Down

51zBNqv3MRL The Fixx – One Thing Needs to Another

He also bought me this, a band I assumed were American, but turned out to be from Sheffield. A band who had a drummer with one arm. (Actually, he still had two arms when this album was recorded; it was when their next album, “Hysteria”, post arm-loss, came out in 1987 that they went truly stratospheric). But I was there first, UK rock fans. Although I’m not so sure this is something to be proud of..

d57644845a691f8807578e551b473654ae4281f9 Def Leppard – Photograph

But of all the records my brother brought back from the U S of A with him, there was one band that I totally fell for: The Go-Go’s. Featuring Belinda Carlisle and Jan Wiedlin, they became my pop star crushes to supercede Debbie Harry, five girls who so Google tells me, were the recipents of the 2,444th star on the LA Walk of Fame. Should have got there earlier, ladies. If only you didn’t take so long getting ready, eh lads?

vacationcover2 The Go-Go’s – Vacation

And then there’s this, another contender for my Top Ten of Greatest Records Ever……!

go_gos The Go-Go’s – Our Lips Are Sealed

And if I’m going to post that link, then, since it was co-written by Terry Hall, ex-Special and (at the time) current one of the Fun Boy Three, I have to post this too:

the-fun-boy-three-our-lips-are-sealed-chrysalis Fun Boy Three – Our Lips Are Sealed

And finally on a Go-Go’s theme, allow me to nudge you in the direction of “Freedom of Choice”, an album of punk and new wave covers including Yo La Tengo, Sonic Youth and this, by Redd Kross, a band whose own output I’m not a fan of, but by God they know how to knock out a cover version:

R-839350-1273804434_jpeg Redd Kross – How Much More

Considering I could think of nothing to say, I don’t half go on, don’t I…..?

Like anything I’ve posted today? Then go buy it here: the internet.