In My Mind I’m Going to Colorado

In the run-up to Christmas this year, I was thinking about a tune that evokes Christmas for me personally but which has nothing to do with Christmas at all for anybody else…

… as you do.

The main one that I came up with is this:

If We Hold on Together by Diana Ross

It’s not a highbrow example by any means.  In fact it's a rather twee, lightweight, tune which not that many people may even know.  So why does it invariably say ‘Christmas’ to me?  When I thought a little about that, the memories that came flooding back were warm indeed.

Twenty years ago this year, Trish and I spent a month in Boulder Colorado and that month ran from mid December to Mid January. 

I’ve had enough Christmases at this stage to be able to spot the memorable ones and it is fair to say that this was one of the very best.

We stayed with Trish’s Brother and his family and, for me anyway, it was like Christmas on another planet.  The weather – feet and feet of snow, the geography – a vast open plain leading to the foothills of the Rocky Mountains and, in the opposite direction, the smoggy spires of the Mile High city of Denver.

The skiing was wonderful too, mind.  We skied Breckenridge and Vail, Winter Park and Loveland and it was magnificent and unforgettable.

Everything went to make that year remarkable but mostly, I think, it is remembered because it was a Christmas purely with friends rather than family.  John and Marian are family, of course, but even more-so they are friends and the type of people I would long to be friends-with even if they weren’t family, if you follow me.  Yes, that was the greatest thing about that year.  Trish and I were together and autonomous and we were amongst friends.

And the song?

It was from little Lisa’s favourite film – The Land Before Time  - and she played it on the video over and over again.  The song tied itself up inexorably with that Christmas.

But not, oddly enough, straight away…

… it must have been ten years later.  I’d just got holidays from work the day before and I was listlessly scanning the television channels trying to find the meaning of Christmas or, at least, a good cartoon.  And there was that film, just finishing, the credits rolling and that song playing.

And it all came back to me in a rush.  The times we had, the memories we burned into our minds.

And, ever since, that song has held as a memento of a great, great, moment in our lives.

Happy Christmas, eh?

A Song Lyric - 'Sheer Force of Habit'

One of the many fun things about following quite a few people on Twitter is that things pop up in the stream that can sometimes inspire or, at least, incite a piece of writing action.

One of my weaknesses is that I like to try to write song lyrics from time to time.  They're really pretty much doggerel and the fact there are no tunes for them rather emphasises that perception but, hey, I 'm not hurting anyone and it keeps me off the streets, right?

My simplistic view of lyric writing is that many songs spring up out of little phrases which we know and use regularly without thinking about them.  Others arise out of odd, distinctive, expressions which make you stop and think when you hear them.  So, whenever such a phrase turns up, I like to try to mess with it a little.

It happened previously when @cherrymorello told me she was 'Driving up to Glasto with the offspring in the back'.  The resultant lyric is here.

@Gerrymulvenna also set one of my lyrics to a tune and sang it on his blog.  That was great and gave me a lot of pleasure.  Here's a link to it.

This time it was @SianMeadowcroft who put forward the notion of loving something out of 'sheer force of habit'.  I thought it was a very neat idea.  

If this has been done before, please don't sue me, I'm not aware of it.

Sheer Force of Habit

I’m trying to kick you
To give you right up
It’s stupid, I know, but it’s true
I’m still loving you out of sheer force of habit
There’s no patch for my craving for you.

I’ve been to the doctor
I’ve been to the church
The witch and the hypnotist too
But I’m still loving you out of sheer force of habit
My heart just needs something to do.

Should never have started, should just have said no.
The memory of you makes me shake
I should have been stronger and told you to go
You’re a mighty tough habit to break.

I pace down the hallways
I scratch at my arms
I’m restless the endless night through
Cause I’m still loving you out of sheer force of habit
I’ll never be all-clear of you



I think it would have a sort of overblown Engelburt Humperdink or Late Elvis kind of a vibe to it but what do I know?

I just scribble this stuff down...


PS:  The inestimable Gerry Mulvenna sings his version of the song here.

What a guy!

Little Mister Baggy Britches

One of my own favourite posts in this blog concerns my late Mother and how we finally got to sing together.  You can read that one here. 

One of the key points of that post was that, although Mum never sang in public, she was always singing and humming around the house and quite a few of the songs I heard in that way have never been heard by me anywhere else, before or since. 

Now and again these songs turn up – on the radio, in a movie – and it an odd experience whenever I hear one.

One such song turned up out of the blue about a week ago.  It wasn’t on the radio, nor in a movie, it was in my head.  I was watching Twitter when someone mentioned in passing that they were thinking of re-lining their coat rather than getting it done professionally, to save a few quid… 

Pow! There it was – a fully formed song in my head - a song I hadn’t thought of in over thirty years, a song I had only ever heard in one place.

The song was all about stitching and patching, you see, so that’s why the coat-lining thing brought it back.  I thought it was called ‘Little Mrs Patch-Me-Britches’ because that’s how Mum sung it but it turns out it was actually called ‘Little Mister Baggy Britches.’  The chorus went like this:

Little Mister Baggy Britches

I love you

If you'll be my Sunday follow

I'll patch them with pink and with purple and yellow

And folks shall say

As we lean on the old sea wall

Lena's been patchin' his britches

Til he's got no britches at all.

I went looking straight away but there’s no YouTube or Blip of the song that I can find.  I found nowhere to hear it except in my head.

So I did a little research and some Twitter buddies helped.  Together, we found that the sheet music for this song is available and there’s a forum where people have discussed it and posted much more lyrics than I ever knew.  We also found out that the song was recorded by Carol Deene in 1970 and was the flipside to her single ‘Windmill in Old Amsterdam’.

That’s about all we got though.  Not very much at all.  So, sod it, I thought, I can’t just let the memory go again.  I’ll write a blog post, I thought, that’ll do it.

But that doesn’t really do it, does it?

I know how the song goes, don’t I?  What am I supposed to do about that?  Let it go?

Can’t do that… so brace yourself.  This is me in ‘lullaby’ mode, something I still do every night though my song is Bob Dylan’s ‘All The Tired Horses’.  So it’s not any good but it does give an idea how the song’s chorus went – the lyrics aren’t exact but they are how they were sung in our house years ago.

listen to ‘Little Mister Patchy Britches’

Now don’t start – I know I don’t sing well.  But there are two reason for embarrassing myself like this.  The first is that this post will now become first in the search engines for any other poor bugger who comes looking for ‘Little Mister Patchy Britches’ so I might actually be doing a public service by collating what little information I have on it.

The second reason is trickier…

Although this song was released in 1970 on the back of a single, it goes back way before that.  Mum was singing it before that.  I believe (but can’t be sure) that she sang it as a lullaby.  It’s more likely that I heard it being sung to my younger sisters rather than me but again can’t be sure.

So here’s a little piece of memory that has popped to the surface after a long time.  It deserves to be cleaned up and kept, doesn’t it?  It is incumbent upon us to keep the memory of the dear-departed alive in whatever ways we can – by laughing about them, telling stories about them, including them in our day, by remembering them.

So long as we do that, there is at least a little bit of life after death…

…for sure.

Glasto Song (for @Cherrymorello)

Some of my eagle-eyed friends spotted this new song when I threw it onto the blog last Saturday, even though I dated it a few months back so that it would be buried.

I didn't want to put it too prominently online before I knew that @Cherrymorello wouldn't mind - I think she quite liked it actually so now I'm putting today's date on and pushing it to the front.

In truth, I'm quite pleased with it myself and I think the story behind it illustrates something about the nature of Twitter and inspiration - though God knows what that might be.

@cherrymorello is one of the many super people I chat to on Twitter. She's lovely and great fun. Last Saturday I noticed she had a new picture up (that's the one at the top there) so I said, 'Nice picture'. (It was deep, I know, but that's how I tend to roll).

She replied, 'Which one?' There's different pictures depending on where you look at my account."

I said, "You're driving a vehicle, there's a car, you're smiling. Christ, I think there might be a poem in this..."

She said, "That Poem's called 'On my way to Glasto with the offspring in the back'"

And that got me thinking - it's a good line for a song, isn't it?

So that's the song down below. Silly, yeah, but it came out of a Twitter chat with a nice person. I like it when things like that happen.

Twitter can be like that, if you let it. It can 'spark' things off.

'Course, you have to follow the right people...


Glasto Song

This year has been pure hellish

Thought it was never gonna end
I was left without a sunbeam, I was lost without a friend
But I don’t want to paint it badly
‘Cos now I’m back on track
I’m on my way to Glasto with my offspring in the back

We’ll see Blur, Nick Cave and Tom Jones
The best in all the land
We’ll see steam rise off Bruce Stringsteen
And his mates the E Street Band
We’ll eat couscous, rice and lentils
And there won’t be no Big Mac
I’m on my way to Glasto with my offspring in the back

So behave yourself dear kiddies
Don’t shed another tear
The answer to your whining
Is, Yes, we’re nearly there
It’s been a lengthy journey
But I can take your flack
Cos I’m on my way to Glasto with my offspring in the back

Ken Armstrong 2009

Lyric - Fresh Out of Clever

The moment demanded
A joke of some kind.
When you said you were going away.
But nothing real funny
Jumped into my mind
I’m fresh out of Clever today


You said my inaction
Had ruined your head
Then you waited for something from me
But my witty responses
Were all left unsaid
I'm fresh out of Clever, you see


On a better day
I’d have thrown in a line
I’d have given as good as I got
But today I’ve got nothing
The fault is all mine
My comedic timing’s all shot


So, yeah, I got nothing
Just leave me alone
And close out the door as you go
If you want, you can cut me
Once more to the bone
Cos I’m fresh out of Clever you know.



(Ken Armstrong 2010)

Liking it So You Don’t Have To #5 – Another Song

I started this little series of posts as a sort of self-flagellation... you’re sitting up and paying attention now, right?

I just thought it might be fun to try to highlight things that I really like which I feel you might not like at all. To defend the indefensible, to bare the very kernel of my middle-of-the-road soul. And, yeah, so far, it has been a laugh.

First we had a movie, then a song (that one was rough) then a singer and number #4 was a book. Yup, although I didn’t actually call that post ‘#4’, that’s what it was… (Here’s an impromptu competition; tell me what that book was and I’ll send you a book, we’ll work out what. Use the comments, that’s what they’re bloody there for, right?)

To business…


Below is a Youtube video of a song. It’s a song from a show which has been held up a template of middle-of-the-road/yuppie pseudo artistic endeavour. A show which has been adored and pilloried in equal measure (I pillory it a lot). And this song is in it.

The song is ‘Bring Him Home’ from the behemoth musical version of ‘Les Miserables’. I like this song, so you don’t have to. But it’s not just the song, it’s the singer. Colm Wilkinson is Irish and we’re all dead-proud of him ‘cos he went and made good on the international stage (no, not the one in Kilburn).

This singer - singing this song - does something to me. What can I tell you? The little hairs rise on the nape of my neck and stay rizzed-up until the final astounding note is done.

Have a listen and see what you think.



Here’s a curious thing. I went to see the show on Shaftesbury Avenue quite a few years ago… and I bloody hated it… and I still bloody hate it. One qualification: I liked the opening scene – the bare-naked revolving stage bit. That was brave and theatrical for a big show like that. But then it went all to hell in a hand basket with urchins and barricades and God knows what else. Hated it, grrrrrrrr.

Doubtless someone sang this song the night we went to see it but it whooshed right over my head. I think I was so annoyed at all the money I’d spent getting in to see this dross that I was rendered totally impervious to anything good about it by the time the drunken innkeeper finally buggered off.

It was years later that the song finally struck me. I remember it well. We were babysitting our nephews in Ballinrobe and the Late Late Show was on but I wasn’t paying much heed to it. Then Colm came on and sang this song live… and I stood transfixed in the centre of the floor and watched him. I literally could not believe what I heard.

So what it is about the song? He sings it quite brilliantly, I think, but it can’t be just that, can it?

Is it the sentiment that subconsciously tugs at the father in me? The elder’s plea for the life of the youth – 'take me instead'? There may be something in that – I have felt twinges of this before when reading ‘The Road’ or even watching ‘The Mist’, so I am obviously susceptible.

Or is it just a stonking good tune? I don’t think it is actually, it’s okay but it's not brilliant. No, there’s more to it that that.

Is it perhaps the vulnerability of a man adopting this emotional and moving falsetto? Does it touch the soul in some indefinable way?

For me, at least, the song is definitely operating on some base level. I equate it to the moment when the head pops out of the boat in ‘Jaws’. Something made us jump then - and it was more than just the head and the fright. Something basic was touched upon. It's the same here.

I like this song. So, go ahead, mock me as a fool. At least I stuck my neck out and I said it., right? I’m like Randall P McMurphy in the shower room… at least I tried, dammit, at least I tried.

What are you brave enough to like?

The A and E Song

(To the tune of Galway Bay)

If you ever go to A and E in Ireland
And get there at the closing of your day
You can sit and watch the loons row over nothing
And end up with a nice long trolley stay. 

And if they put you on an intravenous
And stick the needle in there all the way.
Be sure and tell them fill it up with Guinness 
Or else the feckers only give you tay. 

And if your leg's come over rather septic.
And they want to hack it off above the knee
Just pour a drop of Jamesons down your trouser
It'll fix you up and cure impotency.

So If you ever go to A and E in Ireland
And get there at the closing of your day
You may not get much medical attention
But the chapel's really nice for a wee pray.
 

With a Song in My Head

I like to try write lyrics occasionally – never poems.

Sometimes you can say things much neater in that way than you can in any other.

As I always say when I flash a lyric, if anyone can come up with a good tune for one of these puppies, let me know, perhaps we could do a Lennon/McCartney type thing on it.

I gotta like the tune though. I gotta love it!

When we Finally Say Goodbye

We've been together always
but the way's been hard and dry
so we shouldn't make a deal of it
when we finally say goodbye.

We stuck it out as best we could
and the years just walked on by
but we'll know it's only for the best
when we finally say goodbye.

It's been a long time coming
but it's been coming all the time
and we lost however many times we tried.
It's been such a long time coming
but we're running out of time
now it's coming to our time to say goodbye.

We dragged and pushed and clung so hard
we're allowed just one more cry
but the tears will stop forever
when we finally say goodbye.

Heart and Skin

I took up my blade
the night we met.
The edge was sharp and true.
I gave you my heart,
gave you my skin.
I cut them nice for you.

I pledged allegiance
to your flag.
Carved off my tattoo.
Gave you my heart,
gave you my skin
Forever me and you.

My body lying
raw and still.
You’re onto something new.
I gave you my heart,
gave you my skin.
Flayed and lifeless too.

© Ken Armstrong and Niamh O’Reilly 2007

I'm Gone

You can tell me that you love me.
Swear the grass is always green
You can say my disposition's just
the sweetest ever seen.
You can say that we're forever.
That we never can go wrong
You can say in heaven's choir
we're both singing the same song.

Just remember that I'm idling
and I've got my handbrake on.
You can lay your heart down in my road
but when the light goes green, I'm gone.

You can say that I'm an angel.
You can think that I'm the Man.
You can say that in the scheme of things
we're nature's given plan.
You can sing my highest praises.
You can curse me into hell
You can swear allegiance to my throne
and kiss my ass as well.

Just remember that I'm stalling.
I'm intent on moving on.
You can put your hair down on the ground
but when that light goes green, I'm gone.

People think that we're forever
gotta tell you that they're wrong
'cos you're stuck in my no-parking zone
and when that light goes green I'm gone.
To me you're just a pit stop.
A place to wash my screen,
check my tyre pressure,
wipe my dipstick clean.

You can wish for love eternal.
You can wish for what you need.
Just don’t put me in your wishes,
I'll be gone from you at speed.

Like I told you I'm just idling
and I've got my handbrake on.
You can lay your heart down on the road
but when the light goes green, I'm gone

(That's me: gone.)

I'm Gonna Take This With Me.

I'm going to be facetious now.

So brace yourself.

I was thinking - what with all the doom and gloom that's currently around - wouldn't it be nice if I could write a post that would just raise a smile and... and 'accentuate the positive' and generally make you want to go and hug the cat.

(Go, go, hug him... hug him real tight... squeeeeeeeezzzze.)

But, as I was striving for this unerringly happy post, there was only one question that kept jumping into my head. It wouldn't go away.

So the 'happy post' turns out to be just a question.

"What song would I like to have played at my funeral?"

I know, I know, sorry, it's not exactly the cheeriest thing ever, is it? But it's what I was thinking of and I couldn't shake it off. So I'll play you the song I'd like to have played at my funeral down at the bottom.

But this all made me wonder, what tune/song would you like played at yours. Really, it did.

Now, you see, the post becomes almost salvageable. Granted, it may never be the happy-go-lucky recession-beater that I was aiming for but, at worst, we may yet achieve a little public service blogging here.

See, if you tell me what tune you want at your send-off, and then I hear that you died, I can contact the next of kin with the information.

That'd be kind of good, wouldn't it?

Perhaps you could do the same for me? I have a post prepared that's linked to my pulse so, thirty minutes after it stops, the post will come on the blog and announce my untimely... etc. Then, upon reading it, you all could email and remind my family about the song I want played.

Okay?

Now, you may well ask, why doesn't the silly fecker just name the song in this epic pulse-related blog-post of his? Simple answer. That would be too easy, wouldn't it?

Anyway, here's my current funereal music. This may change as I get older and whither further, as I fully expect to. I'll keep you posted, literally.

Oh, and this song is my choice. Right? You go and get your own. Then come tell me all about it. I'd love to hear.

At least it's a change from the 'Seven Odd Things' meme, isn't it?

Okay. Are we happy yet?

Bad With Names

I have always been bad with names. Close family members are not a problem and my wife’s name trips easily off the tongue at this stage but all others remain difficult.

These days I have come to terms with the problem. The trick was to stop trying to bluff my way around the fact that I obviously haven’t a clue who you are. Generally, I’ll now come clean and just say, "I’m sorry but I’ve forgotten your name again." This honest approach seems to work well.

But this lesson was not learned easily. There were many stumbles along the road to realising that I have a head like a sieve. The final knock - also the worst - was the one which made me give up trying to muddle though, once and for all.

I had just started in the Architects office where I then worked. On my first day I had been introduced to fourteen very fine people and, true to form, I had immediately forgotten every single one of their names. All except the boss - I’m bad but not that bad. After three weeks of bluff, counter-bluff and confusion, a new recruit came to work in the office. I was no longer the ‘new-boy’ and I resolved I would make a clean start by committing this new man’s name to memory and never ever forget it again.

My happiness knew no bounds when we were finally introduced. His name turned out to be Finnegan... Michael Finnegan. "Now this will be easy," I said to myself, "I actually know a song about a man called Michael Finnegan. If I mentally file his name away with that song then I will never lose it." As I recall, I even sang a bit of the song to myself, to embed the knowledge in my brain.

"There was an auld man called Michael Finnegan,
he grew fat and then grew thin again,
he caught a fish and threw him in again
poor auld Michael Finnegan.
Begin again."

I had this one sorted, no bother. I looked forward, with great anticipation, to my amazing recollection of the new guy’s name.

I didn’t have very long to wait. A client was coming into our office and Michael was due to meet him. I was asked to look after the initial introductions. A request like this would normally have got me scribbling on my cuffs but not this time. This time I was in control.

This client and I were busy tucking into tea and digestive biscuits when the new man came in. Immediate introductions were required and I sprang to the task with no small measure of enthusiasm.

"I would like," said I, "I would like to introduce you to the man who will be dealing with your project from now on. His name is... Patrick McGinty."

So, if we ever meet and, with a smile, I admit that I can’t seem to remember your name, please forgive me.

It is definitely better if I don't try.

Blue Moons and New York Minutes

Don Henley has a fairly good song called 'New York Minute'.

I was reminded today what a 'New York Minute' actually is so I thought I would share this information with you.

The term 'New York Minute' refers to a very short space of time. The definition was eternally enhanced by Johnny Carson some years ago.


He explained that a 'New York Minute' was the space of time which elapsed between an NY traffic light going green and the car behind you beeping its horn.

So now you know.

And because (in fairness) that tidbit is, at best, only moderately interesting, here as a bonus, is another song title explained.

The term 'Blue Moon' turns up in many a good old song including that perennial favorite 'Blue Moon'. Yes, it's in there somewhere, take my word for it. But what exactly is a 'Blue Moon'? Not everyone knows. Even if you, apparently, do.

Sometimes you get two full moons in one calendar month, particularly if the first full moon occurs on the first or second of the month. When that happens, another should come along about 28 days later.

The term 'Blue Moon' refers to the second full moon in a single month and, because it is a bit rare, the term 'once in a blue moon' refers to something that doesn't happen very often.

And there you all thought that you were finished with learning-and-such.

Can you perhaps explain any other song titles to me?

I quest for lyrical knowledge.

Plus I might get another quickie post out of what you tell me.

More About The Song – Poems by Rachel Fox

Rachel Fox has a great blog and, if you don’t go there regularly, then you really should. Click this link and see.

Go on, I’ll still be here when you come back. I’ll just do a bit of tidying…


Rachel also has a new book of poems published and I wanted it so, like Paul Simon in his song, “I sent away… and I waited till it came”.


It is such a lovely book, really. I keep it on my desk and pick it up and read a poem or three now and again.


It does me good, I feel.




Here’s a little poem, reproduced with The Author’s kind permission:

Short Love
I loved you for three weeks
Or maybe longer
It may seem a short love
But it was stronger
Than you might imagine
From its length

Rachel writes stories and songs, she also blogs about her life on the Angus Coast in Scotland. One can’t help feel though, that in her heart, she is a poet. She is also a very accessible poet. The tools of her trade are honesty, forthrightness, humour… and music.

I think it is this latter quality to her writing which draws me in more the most – the sheer musicality of it. I find a song-like quality to many of the poems I have read and many more of them respect and reference the music she has known along her way.

The sisters said it best
I’ve always been
Lost in music
It’s never felt
Like a trap

It’s always felt
Just the right place
To wander loose
Off the track

Here I go now
Lost in music
I’m not sure if
I’ll be back

And don’t go making the mistake of thinking Rachel is a ‘fuddy-duddy up-her-own-arse’ type of a poet either. If her blog is anything to go by, and of course it is, Rachel has lived life to the full. She has had her early wild years of clubbing, DJ ing and God-knows-what else while now she paints an attractive picture of the gently-maturing-parent with the odd dash of irresponsibility thrown in.

Her book is a lovely thing. There’s some more stuff about it here and lots more poems to read (and hear) here. You can (and should) buy the book from here or Amazon.

And then there’s that blog… put in your reader, or bookmark or whatever-the-hell you use, I’d like to bet it won’t come back out anytime soon.

I have sometimes feared that I may suffer from Metrophobia. No, I love big cities, this is actually a fear of poetry.

The Poet-Bloggers I have come to know, over the last while, have helped me get over that. I think it helps me to appreciate the poetry when I see a little of the poets lives and preoccupations set down in their Blog-Posts. It gives me a little context for their work.

Perhaps it means I read their poetry all wrong – making it more about the singer than the song. But at least I’m reading, touching and being touched. That’s a start, eh?

I want to thank some of those Blogger-Poets who have helped me to peek inside the door to their minds.

Rachel Fox

Fiendish

Dave King

Francis Scudellari

Catherine Sharp

Kat Mortensen

And most recently - Maguire

And of course, the amazing Jim Murdoch who is the dour miserable old sod with the most glowing, humorous, poetic heart in the whole wide world.

Go and have a look at what they do. If one of them doesn’t touch you, another surely will.

That’s the way it is with poets.

Song of the Decade

I was walking home from work the other evening, as usual – keeping the old carbon footprint down – when a song came on the ipod that I hadn’t heard in a while.

I listened to it, enjoyed it greatly, and then a thought occurred.

‘That pop song’, I thought, ‘is as good a song as any to represent the 1970’s for me.’

Okayyyy…


So then I got to thinking, what one pop song might represent the other decades that I've lived in? I thought about it a little bit and then I threw a song at each decade.

I gave myself a couple of rules, nothing too strenuous. I made it exclusively pop songs, because they seem to be the most ‘of-their-time’ and thus more apt in summing up a decade.

And then I… nope, that’s it with the rules actually.

I didn’t think about it too hard either. You could tied up in knots trying to be all apt and clever and stuff.

Anyway, the song I was listening to, which started the whole bus of thought (it was too small to be an actual train) was this:

1970’s - Run to Me by The Bee Gees



What a great song that is_ wait, another rule, no editorialising either. Just pick a damn song.

- Jees… ‘touchy or what?

- It’s been a rough day, okay?

- Okay?

- Yeah, okay?

- Okay, jees…

1980’s - True Faith by New Order

1990’s - Losing My Religion by REM

2000’s – Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots (Part 1) by The Flaming Lips.



Hey, I left out the sixties. I was around for much of the sixties but I was quite young so it’s difficult… aw hell:

1960’s Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles. (I may explain why in a comment, if forced.)

A word about that 2000’s choice. My pal Reggie at Fragileheart is doing a period of ‘Pink Blogging’ to promote breast cancer Awareness (to hell with grammar, I ain’t capitalising that shit).

I though this song might be of interest to her because, although it is ostensibly about a young Japanese girl fighting robots, there is a perceived subtext that the girl in the song is actually battling cancer. It’s a great song and it’s got elements in it that couldn’t belong to any other decade methinks.

So, anyone care to play? What pop song sums up a generation for you?

Go on… I dare ya!

Songs for Guys

I hadn't intended that my two young men would have songs attributed to them but it sort of worked out that way.  It started with John who was born nigh on twelve years ago at midnight (both of my guys are midnight's children).

It had been a hard day - all right, maybe a bit harder for P than for me but we guys go through the mill too you know.  Anyway there was tiredness, tea and toast and lots of other t-words and then it was time for me to go home and let mum and newborn baby sleep.

I got to the car and the three weeks of hospital time finally caught up with me. I sat in, feeling exhausted and hyperactive all at the same time...

And I put on the radio.

And the song was just starting.

It was Paul Simon singing 'Saint Judy's Comet'. A sweet lullaby for father for child. At that very moment it became, for me, John's song and it will always be so.

After Sam put in his own midnight appearance, some years later, I sat into the car and wondered what the radio would give me this time when i turned it on.  I got 'Four Seasons in One Day' by Crowded House. The effect wasn't as monumental as the Paul Simon song but this nonetheless embedded itself as Samuel's Song and cannot now be listened to in any other context.

I wonder if other people associate songs with their kids becuase it was the first song they heard after they were born?

Time of @reply

Summer was gone and the Tweets died down
And Facebook reached for its golden crown
I sit on down and heaved a sigh
For this is my time of @reply

I reach for coffee and drink it down
The tips of my fingers turning brown
I should just let my laptop die
But this is the time of @reply

The time of @reply is calling me to stay
My mind tells me to go to bed
But to leave there is no way

Facebook was gone and Myspace died down
Now Twitter reached for its golden crown
I sat on down and heaved a sigh
For this was my time of @reply


(to the air of Time of No Reply by Nick Drake)