Sunday Morning Coming Down

Back to one of my all-time Country heroes this morning, and to a song which popped up as a bonus track on the CD reissue of his Kristofferson album:

Kris Kristofferson – Come Sundown

More soon.

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Late Night Stargazing

I should have posted this long ago in my Sunday morning Country series, but whilst it’s undoubtedly a Country record, I don’t think it really sits there.

Rather, if ever there was a song that could make me grimace, mull over my mistakes and weep, it’s this one, a simply told tale of love lost, which makes it much more suited for late night introspection:

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Kris Kristofferson – When I Loved Her

Just beautifully sad.

More soon.

 

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Shortly after I’d asked my mate Martin for a suggestion for last week’s post in this series, I came up with one which I decided to postpone until today.

When I was a youngster, the album this was the title track from was often played as the family droveover to visit the grandparents and great-grandparent every Saturday. I would sing along in the back, totally oblivious to what the song was about. It wasn’t til many years later that I actually listened to the words properly and realised that the main character is, to be perfectly blunt, an absolute shagger and a shit.

I had some form in this area, you won’t be surprised to learn. My Dad owned a couple of those Rugby Songs albums which were popular in the 70s, recordings of jock-strap wearing mountains of men singing bawdy songs in pubs, with the most offensive of words (usually) bleeped out to protect the tender ears of any young pup who may have strayed into hearing range.

But that hadn’t stopped me learning the words to an old-time music hall tune which featured on the record, and, as my teacher subsequently reported to my parents, I had been singing it in class…at lunch breaks…at any possible opportunity, basically.

This isn’t the Rugby Songs version, but you get the idea as to what so tickled kindergarden-aged me about it:

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Derek Lamb – The Hole in the Elephant’s Bottom

But I digress.

Here’s the song I was originally talking about; it seems appropriate in a perverse kind of way to be posting a song about a devil on Easter Sunday:

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Kris Kristofferson – The Silver Tongued Devil And I

More soon.

 

Sunday Morning Coming Down

It’s been a good while since I posted any Kristofferson here, so I think it’s time to rectify that, with a song which I can perform a pretty mean version of; the gravel-voiced growly tenor is right in my range.

And it kind of explains where I’m at right now.

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Kris Kristofferson – To Beat The Devil

More soon.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Back to some country this morning, and a follow-on tune to the post I did a couple of weeks ago about the reality TV show “Gone to Pot: American Road Trip”.

The link will become obvious, not least because it’s Willie Nelson again.

And this track also features Kris Kristofferson, Jamey Johnson and….Snoop Dogg:

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Willie Nelson – Roll Me Up And Smoke Me When I Die (with Snoop Dogg, Kris Kristofferson & Jamey Johnson)

More soon.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

A couple of months ago, I wrote that I had heard a rumour that my favourite Country star of all time, Kris Kristofferson, was going to play the Legends Slot on the Sunday at Glastonbury.

Although I didn’t say so at the time, I feared for him a little; when I saw him about ten years ago in Bristol, it was just him and an acoustic guitar, and I felt that were he to perform in the same style at Glasto, with no backing band, he would probably be dwarfed by the occasion.

Factor in his memory loss problems, and you can understand where I’m coming from.

His memory loss is interesting, not just because it gives my Dad the opportunity to tell his story about the time he saw Kristofferson play a few years ago, and had to prompt him with one of the lines to “Sunday Morning Coming Down”. (“Someone frying chicken!” he called from the audience, as the Country star faltered).

See, for years, doctors had been telling Kristofferson that his increasingly debilitating memory loss was due to either Alzheimer’s or to dementia brought on by blows to the head from the boxing, football and rugby of youth.

Then, in 2016, a doctor decided to test Kristofferson for Lyme disease; it came back positive. His wife believes he picked it up from a tick as he crawled around the forest floor in Vermont making a movie.  He gave up his Alzheimer’s and depression pills and went through three weeks of Lyme-disease treatment and now is, well, he may not be perfectly healthy, but his memory is as good as any 80 year old has the right to expect it to be.

As it turned out, the rumours I had heard were incorrect; he is playing Glastonbury but not the Sunday Legend slot. Instead, he’s appearing on the Pyramid Stage on Friday afternoon, right after First Aid Kit. It’s a good slot for a Country star to play: I saw Willie Nelson play at pretty much the same time back in 2010 and he was incredible.

In case you’re interested, The Sunday Legend slot at Glastonbury this year is being filled by Chic (and for that matter, Barry Gibb is on right before them). That, weather permitting, is going to be one heck of a party.

Anyway, back to Kristofferson. Here’s a couple of tracks from a favourite KK album of mine, 1971’s “The Silver Tongued Devil & I”; one I would think you will all know, and one which, much to the delight of some of my regular readers, includes a gravel-voiced spoken word intro:

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Kris Kristofferson – The Pilgrim Chapter 33

Kris Kristofferson – Loving Her Was Easier (Than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again)

Oh, and Happy Father’s Day to this old chap:

The Man Contented

 

Like father, like son(s).

More soon.

I Am the Voice, Too #2

I wasn’t intending to post anything else under this title, but my post yesterday seems to have caused quite the stir.

I went to a barbeque at one of my mate’s yesterday afternoon, and a couple of friends who read the guff I write here made reference to it. One (hello!) has often commented on my voice, regularly comparing me to Eastenders’ Frank Butcher, asking me to say “Do you think I’m some kind of a doughnut?” to him.

For the record, he has never asked me to stand naked, bar a revolving bow tie. Yet.

There have also been a couple of enquiries via the Comments section as to whether my singing voice has the same deep qualities.

Well. Yes and no. I would never claim to be the greatest singer in the world. I’m no Billy Bragg. But, once I have a few drinks inside me, it’s true that I do like a bit of a sing-song, as anyone who has sat and got drunk with me will doubtless attest (much to their annoyance).

So, here’s a song which, when seven sheets to the wind,  I do love to sing along to (mostly because it’s just talking, for the large part of it); to be clear, I’m not saying that I sound like the great man, but I can give it a bloody good go:

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Kris Kristofferson – To Beat The Devil

When the conversation happened in work on Friday, after the laughter had died down, my boss Kay described my voice as “a higher Barry White”, which I guess makes me a Love Seal rather than a Love Walrus.

More soon.