TXFM

Dublin - and further afield through the wonder of the internet - is soon to lose one of her radio stations. TXFM, we hardly knew ye.

It's barely time since it regenerated from Phantom 105.2 - a slightly longer process than the Doctor, but the interim weeks effectively being a Spotify play list called "Now That's What I Call Indie Rock" wasn't too painful.

For me, it has soundtracked breakfasts, the occasional time working from home, innumerable car journeys around Dublin's suspension-jarring streets and just being there in the background.

Aside from the initial shakes of the trying-too-hard breakfast show with Joe and Keith - I compared it unfavorably with Mark and Lard's ill-suited stint on BBC Radio 1 in the 90s (which I loved!) - I've rarely been disappointed with the presenters or the music played. NB: Joe is great in the afternoon, opening my ears to hip hop that passed me by.

I've been fortunate enough to have my dulcet (flat) Yorkshire tones on the air a few times - Cathal Funge's Song Club has a hat-trick of my choices.

With this in mind, and thinking back to when BBC 6 Music launched with a public vote for their opening track, I have wondered whether there will be any notable song - or programme of songs - played before closedown.

For obviousness of title, either The Beatles or The Doors "The End" would suffice.

James' "We're Going To Miss You When You're Gone" - I will certainly miss having it around on FM, especially in the car.

REM "It's The End Of The World As We Know It" - over-dramatic, other independent-flavoured radio stations are available, just need seeking out over the web.

And then I remembered Belle and Sebastian "This Is Just A Modern Rock Song" - none more indie, and the song winds down to a mournful:

I count "three, four" and then we start to slow,
Because a song has got to stop somewhere.

RIP TXFM. Even if you did play too much Kings of Leon.

Dig Your Own Hole

I have started to make use of Spotify's offline feature, to give me something to listen to on the ride to and from work.

This week I downloaded The Chemical Brothers' "Dig Your Own Hole" - a favourite of mine at university. Listening to it today generated these random thoughts:

The album is almost 20 years old. How? *whimpers at aging*

The trouble with music today is that you can hear the words. Even the two tracks with actual singers ("Setting Sun", "Where Do I Begin") dispense with the vocals being entirely audible. Noel Gallagher sounds like he's trapped in a well with an erratic motorbike engine.

Noel would do well to make something else as one-tenth as adventurous as "Setting Sun". The next thing he did with Oasis was acknowledged cocaine blizzard "Be Here Now". Did this one track annihilate whatever creativity Oasis had? (And in any case, "Whatever" was written by Neil Innes, supreme Beatles pasticher.)

"Setting Sun" is ideal for cycling fast.

Beth Orton. Wonderful voice. *sigh*

It's an absolute racket in places, but what a glorious racket. Although the whistle on the title track can get lost.

"The Private Psychedelic Reel" is one of the best album closers.

Paul Heaton & Jacqui Abbott @ The Academy

I blogged here a while ago about my first gig, The Beautiful South at Leeds Town & Country Club in 1994.

Last night was a reunion of sorts, twenty years on and 200 miles west, in a different country.

Since that first gig, I've seen Paul Heaton numerous times, either with The Beautiful South or solo. Various small and large venues across the UK and Ireland, football stadia, fields in Somerset, even a café in Manhattan.

But this promised something different, albeit familiar. No longer solo, Jacqui Abbott would be back on stage alongside him. And they had a fantastic new album to show off, which they did from the start.

The crashing opening of "Some Dancing To Do" brought the band on stage, followed by Paul and Jacqui. And then Jacqui sang and I was suddenly years younger. One of the best female voices of recent pop has lost nothing in it's absence. I once read a review about Eddi Reader saying she could sing the telephone directory and it would still sound fantastic - the same applies to Jacqui.

But there was Heaton's back catalogue to be plundered, and each song brought a flood of memories.

"Old Red Eyes Is Back" triggered the memory of being tossed around the floor at that first gig like flotsam in a human sea.

I had forgotten just how good "Prettiest Eyes" was - I don't recall ever hearing it live. (Maybe one in a big shed somewhere?) It also resonated with me much more than it did in my single days.

"Rotterdam" - I was still word perfect after all these years. Naturally "Irish stout" got a huge cheer. (This also brought to mind the single's B-side "Pollard". Do look for it online.)

"Dream A Little Dream" (yes, not a Heaton original) - Christ, I spent seven quid of my student loan on an import CD of that!

"I'll Sail This Ship Alone" was my highlight of "Welcome To The Beautiful South" - and here it was being sung in front of me.

And from further back in time, gems from The Housemartins' brief burst of glory - including my first sight of P.D.Heaton on noisy guitar for a splendid "Me And The Farmer".

As usual, Paul had plenty of entertainment between songs: the dichotomy of Tayto crisps in the thirty two counties, a tale of a Battle of the Bands competition that involved Gary Glitter, an art competition...

One of the best gigs I've been to in ages. New songs fitting perfectly alongside old songs - some of which I'd never heard live or never thought I'd hear again.

All in all, brilliant.

And welcome back Jacqui! (The blokes stood behind me were certainly happy to see you.)

Set list:
Some Dancing To Do
Old Red Eyes Is Back
Costa Del Sombre
Rotterdam
Prettiest Eyes
Moulding Of A Fool
We're Not Deep
The Snowman
Build
When It Was Ours
Dream A Little Dream
Don't Marry Her
The Right In Me
Good As Gold
DIY
Happy Hour
---
I'll Sail This Ship Alone
Me And The Farmer
---
Loving Arms
Caravan Of Love

It was twenty years ago today...

...Tuesday, 5th April 1994, that I went to my first gig. The Beautiful South, at Leeds Town and Country Club.

I'd bought my ticket a few weeks earlier, not sure from where - but not the T&C's box office, as I headed into Leeds on the bus not 100% certain where I was supposed to be going. Cookridge Street wasn't one of the usual places I went when in Leeds.

Anyway, it must have been the school holidays, as Easter Monday was the day before. I suppose I was a little nervous, entirely unknowing what a gig entailed. I must have had a coat, but I think I tied it around my waist - as a poor sixth form student, yet to earn the big bucks from a Saturday job at Maplin, I probably skipped the charge.

I bought a programme - another fresher mistake. This had to be stuffed into the gap between my coat and jeans, at the mercy of any spilled drink or overenthusiastic jostling. Fortunately, it survived and lived with my other gig memorabilia* for many years. There was a quiz inside, win a day's drinking with The Beautiful South. Even though I was not yet of boozing age, I entered. I completely misunderstood one question, so my liver was saved. (I'd have fallen asleep after the fourth or fifth pint in any case.)

What I remember of the T&C is that there was a rather grand staircase from the main doors, up to the box office and through into the auditorium. This was a tall, white plastered room, reminiscent of a church.

What do I remember of the gig? Not much. A few things peer through the fog of time:

1. The first song, "Minicorrect". It was rumoured to have been one of the reasons for Briana Corrigan having left the band, due to its lyrical content, alluding to S&M and abusive relationships. I already had two versions on CD: a loud, fast demo that was B-side to "Good As Gold", and the languid, string-drenched album track on "Miaow". What speed it was played at, I forget. The single memory I have is the stage lighting turning, shining bright yellow lights over the audience, absolutely flooding the place. I never again heard it played live.

2. "Old Red Eyes Is Back". One of my favourite Beautiful South songs, and judging by the human tidal surge, many other people's too. I think I went across the room at least twice - all the way over to the right, then all the way over to the left, then finally back to the middle.

3. The albino man and his little friend. There was a guy, quite old, who wore white, had white hair, and looked quite out of place at any gig. He stood stoically still, a few metres away from me. He had a friend with him, who looked for all the world like Ronnie Corbett. I saw the albino guy at other gigs - most bizarrely, Garbage, also at the T&C, but Ronnie Corbett was never with him. Perhaps he was at the golf course.

4. Encores. Being my very first gig, I wasn't entirely familiar with the concept of the encore, let alone two. I can't remember what songs were included - possibly Woman In The Wall or 36D. (The main set had closed with one of them, the other was definitely in the encore.) Fortunately, being in the middle of the crowd, and also not having to race for a bus home for school in the morning, I held my ground. A rare moment of copping on that the rest of the audience were not moving either.

5. The support act were called Frente! and came from Australia. They might have appeared in "Home and Away" at some point. They had an album called "Marvin the Album". Other than that, I couldn't tell you anything about them.

So that was my first gig. I saw The Beautiful South again at the end of the year at Hull Ice Arena - just as Carry On Up The Charts was beginning to sell like hot cakes. There were many more after that - bigger sheds in Sheffield, Manchester and Dublin, the whatever-it-was-called-at-the-time stadium in Huddersfield (once supporting R.E.M., another their big 'South v North' show), a trip to London to Islington Carling Academy, and a hastily arranged set in a New York record shop/cafe as a planned concert had been cancelled.** I've also seen Paul perform in the Leftfield tent at Glastonbury, Billy Bragg joining in with a cover of "White Man In Hammersmith Palais".

I expanded my gig going horizons beyond The Beautiful South, and I've lost count of how many I've been to in total. My first four years in Dublin racked up at least a gig per month, the rate now slowed somewhat now I've other priorities.

Still, roll on June 7th!

* A pile of ticket stubs, T-shirts, postcards and other gubbins, in a drawer, under my bed.

** I happened to be on holiday in NYC at the time, it wasn't planned the other way around. Although I once did go to Brussels to meet up with other TBS fans who were members of the List For Whoever mailing list.

Phantom Icons

The good folk at Phantom 105.2 have run another poll that has sorted out their Christmas playlist. This year, they wanted your musical icons.

An interesting subject, as what defines an icon? Is it longevity, a varied career or, as in many sad cases, dying young leaving a preserved image of cool an maybe a couple of decent records. (Jim Morrison not withstanding. Sorry, I can't abide The Doors.)

The countdown is underway. Here are my choices. (Damn it! Forgot about Ray Davies!)

1. Paul McCartney
He was a Beatle for goodness sake. More importantly he wrote "Paperback Writer" - a song I'm increasingly believing might be the finest recorded. If only he would stop slaughtering "Hey Jude" at huge public events. (With the Olympics and Diamond Jubilee done, we should be safe for a few years.)

2. David Bowie
The chameleon pop star. His run of 70s albums is as remarkably consistent as that of The Beatles from a decade before. Ziggy, Aladdin Sane, nicking Philly soul, the Berlin years - he was also mates with Iggy Pop, picking him up after The Stooges fell apart. Don't mention the Laughing Gnome though.

3. Mark E Smith
Curmudgeonly. Splenetic. Acidic. Pugilistic - even with band mates while on stage. The nucleus about which the myriad cast of The Fall revolve. Less a singer, more haranguing word wrangler. Holder of the Guinness World Record for use of 'ah'. Always different, always the same.

4. Paul Heaton
Quite simply, soundtracked my growing up. The Housemartins were around when I was seven years old; The Beautiful South were the first band I was properly into (take that indie scenesters!) and the first band I saw live. Also, I share my birthday with him. (Yes, and Billy Joel and Dave Gahan.)

5. Jonny Greenwood
Thom Yorke may be front man of Radiohead, but they'd be less interesting without Jonny. He's also produced several film scores, snubbed by Oscar® for "There Will Be Blood".

Random Tracks of Conciousness 27 Nov 2013

This one snuck up on me while cycling to work...

The Decemberists - The Bagman's Gambit

Music therapy

Those songs that just pop into your head for no reason. You know the ones. You're sat there minding your own business, possibly even working, then... BAM! A long-forgotten hit - or miss - lodges itself in your brain. And stays there for hours.

As and when this happens, I'll log a post.

Random Tracks Of Consciousness 25 Nov 2013

Beth Orton - Stolen Car

My Key Cuts

Every Monday to Thursday evening, Phantom 105.2 has Richie and Richie, Messrs McCormack and Ryan. It's a great show, mainly because they play what they damned well like.

One feature, recycling the name of the previous evening show, is Your Key Cuts. Here a listener - or now including celebrities! - chooses two songs that mean something to them. Here's my shortlist:

The Beautiful South - Old Red Eyes Is Back

Yes, The Beautiful South. The band your mum likes. The band of 'Carry On Up The Charts' being in 1-in-7 UK homes. The band of cosy, Radio 2 friendly pop.

Except...

Paul Heaton is really deserving of more acclaim as a song writer. For nearly thirty years he has been penning sharp tales of love, pain, alcohol, politics, death, separation, sheep... from The Housemartins, through The Beautiful South and now into a solo career, he is one of Britain's finest lyricists. If anything, 'Carry On...' was an anomaly, its sustained success entirely out of proportion. (Indeed, the two number one singles he has been involved with, 'Caravan Of Love' and 'A Little Time', one first was a cover, the other was his composition but he didn't sing it.)

I was really into The Beautiful South while growing up. I know this ranks poorly in the teenage rebellion stakes, but my first gig was a small revelation. Tuesday 5 April 1994, Town and Country Club, Leeds. The nice, genteel image of the band - although go back and listen to the songs and hear the waspishness in the lyrics - contrasted with a large section the audience.

I became aware of 'NORTHERN SCUM' - the sarcastic opposite of Beautiful South - that adorned T-shirts and was chanted lustily by a crowd comprising a good number of men in their thirties and forties, who may or may not have renounced football hooliganism. (I later discovered that Heaton had hung around with Sheffield United's Blades Business Crew.)

The first song played was Mini-correct, from their newly released album Miaow. The lyric helped contribute to Briana Corrigan's leaving, being a borderline misogynistic tale of S&M in an abusive relationship. I vividly remember the whole hall being bathed in yellow as the stage lights rotated at the end of the first chorus.

About half way through, they played Old Red Eyes Is Back, that had been released as a single from previous album 0898. A story of a hopeless alcoholic, it's not the first song you think of that would cause pogoing and a tidal surge of bodies left and right across the floor.

I had been stood next to possibly the strangest pair in the audience - think The Two Ronnies portrayed by Gilbert and George - who stood impassively, expressionlessly, as chaos whirled around them. (I saw the taller one at several other concerts. He always carried a large satchel and wore a white/beige jumper.)

It may be that the surprise factor is no longer there, but I have not experienced that same burst of raucousness at a gig since.

Heaton is still writing, as acerbically as ever. No doubt the current coalition Government is providing much more grist to his mill.

Belle and Sebastian - Lazy Line Painter Jane

This is one of those songs that I know exactly what I was doing when I first heard it. I was in the car with my dad, one Saturday in June 1996. I'd just finished my first year at Warwick University and we were driving back to Yorkshire.  We were listening to BBC Radio 1, Jo Whiley I think. (Yes, she's now a caricature of herself, but back then she still hosted the Evening Session with Steve Lamacq.)

The jangly guitar already hooked me, then the vocal starts:

Working the village shop
Putting a poster up

coming from a timid, almost bored sounding Scottish voice. And then Monica Doogan comes in....

So let's see your kit for games
All the girls look the same

What the hell is that? Brilliant, that's what.

It may also be a pebble splashing into the pool of my life, the ripples still being felt years later - maybe far-fetched, but let's go with it. Belle and Sebastian are Scottish, and were on an indie label. A little later, having the confidence and curiosity (and also the student loan!) to buy indie records, I bought The Delgados' album Peloton. They run Chemikal Underground, also home to Arab Strap, half of which is Malcolm Middleton. I own none of his records, but knowing a handful of Arab Strap songs, I go to a gig of his, where I meet and fall in love with a girl, with whom I now have a daughter.

Half Man Half Biscuit - Took Problem Chimp To The Ideal Home Show

I had heard of HMHB - usually in an article that dismissed them as a comedy band. The typical HMHB clichés go: Tranmere fans, don't play on Friday nights, refused appearance on The Tube despite offer of a helicopter to Prenton Park, humorous lyrics like a Wirral version of The Barron Knights, Dukla Prague away kits...

This was the first HMHB track that I listened to, on a cover CD of Word magazine. (It may still have had 'The' in the title at that point.)

Within seconds, I was a fan. This wasn't a novelty band playing another comedy song that was a lame parody, but a genuinely funny, satirical attack on consumerism, London's Earls Court, crap DIY TV shows, Neanderthal security guards and Carols Vorderman and Smillie. Including a bloody great bass line and a bleepy keyboard.

The Beatles - Paperback Writer

As I get older, I'm becoming more certain that this is the greatest Beatles song, and possibly the best pop song ever written. Recorded in two days, as part of the Revolver sessions, in the shops eight weeks later (six in the US!) and number one shortly afterwards. That makes most modern bands look like slackers.

It's short - a tad under two and a half minutes - but it packs a lot in, including Frere Jacques behind the last two verses.

I just wish Macca had played it at the Olympics instead of another interminable take on Hey Jude.

There are more - narrowing it down to two would be difficult.

In the Beginning was the Music

I was walking along Baggot Street last week, when The Delgados' "The City Consumes Us" popped itself into my head.

It's a good little song, not one of their absolute greatest, but still worth a listen, and evidently works for me as an earworm.

The randomness of this song, out of the hundreds that I have ever bought, started me thinking.

The popularity of the iPod and such means that a good percentage of people will be listening to some music at a point in time. What is the likelihood that at that point, more than one person, anywhere in the world, is listening to exactly the same song?

Extrapolating this to my own case, where a song has crept into my mind, what are the chances that two people are even thinking about the same song at the same time.

(Of course this excludes people in bands who are playing a song together live!)

There are seven billion people on Earth. There are far fewer songs that have ever been written, so it is quite likely that two people would be independently enjoying the same song - or hating, or one doing each).

So what are my points in this ramble?

1. There is already too much music to keep up with.

After several centuries, classical music had generated hundreds of compositions. You could spend years of your life listening to them all. Since the advent of recording, the pace of new compositions has accelerated, to the point where many years' worth (by duration) is created every calendar year. It is impossible to listen to it all.

2. There is always a gap for new music.

Seven billion people sharing, at most, a few million pieces of music. There is likely to be at least one pair of ears out there that will be receptive to a tune. The continued success of The X Factor proves this - if only for a couple of weeks. (Who did win the competition last year? Who actually cares?)

3. Music can, and does, function as a glue to connect people.

There is so much music that it is impossible to sample - and then appreciate - it all. Hence we usually narrow our listening to a handful of genres. Human nature, being what it is, means that we will strike up an affinity with those exhibiting the same choices. There's no better feeling, music wise, than being at a gig with ten, one hundred or ten thousand like-minded souls, sharing a moment, often bellowing out lyrics in unison.

4. My brain sometimes functions like the world's most obscure jukebox.

While cycling to and from work, random times do come to mind. I have an unfortunate tendency to sing some of these out loud, a bit too loudly. I would like to apologise to anyone on the Clontarf Road one Tuesday evening, sat outside Bay restaurant, who heard a few lines from "Theme from S'Express" being barked out by a middle aged man huffing and puffing his way home. It is highly unlikely that the same experience could be found anywhere else on earth.

Do track down The Delgados. They were pretty good.

Blur, IMMA

Blur's set list from the IMMA gig, Thursday 1 August:

Girls And Boys
Popscene
There's No Other Way
Beetlebum
Out Of Time
Trimm Trabb
Caramel
Young And Lovely
Coffee and TV
Tender
To The End
Country House
Parklife
End Of A Century
This Is A Low

Under The Westway
For Tomorrow
The Universal
Song 2

Saturday Night's Alright For Writing

Random observations from a Saturday night in Dublin...

1. I must have looked really tired - a group of (probably) drunk lads sat on a bench on the boardwalk wished me "safe home".

2. The Workman's Club is the only place in Ireland that I've seen a Wunder Bar soft drink dispenser. These seem to be standard issue in UK pubs and clubs.

3. There was a covers band in Fitzsimmons, blaring out some terrible tune. Whoever wrote the original should sue.

4. There was a group of pink rabbits on O'Connell Street bridge disguised as a stag/significant birthday party. They may have had myxomatosis.

5. I could get a milkshake in Burger King, but not at McDonald's. Therefore BK > McD.

6. DART trains still sound their warning horns at 11.30 at night. How did I block out/ignore this for over two years when living in Tara Street?

7. There were surprisingly few French rugby fans around. The most notable were sat outside a pub on Bachelor's Walk wearing pink, spangly cowboy hats.

Thanks to Phantom 105.2 for the tickets to the Rebekka Karijord gig. (Although being on the guest list consisted of a bloke writing my name down. In the event, the gig was fairly sparsely attended.)

Brits Thoughts

The Brits nominations were announced yesterday. I'm amazed at how many of the nominees I have heard of, and then have heard something by them.

British male solo artist
Ed Sheeran
James Blake
James Morrison
Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds
Professor Green

Where has Ed Sheeran come from? What do his songs sound like? Guitar playing folk rapper does not sound overly appealing.

Professor (of what?) Green... I've bypassed his videos when channel surfing. Seemed to be tattoos, looking surly and/or confused, and Westwood poses.

The two Jameses... nope.

Noel Gallagher does give a good interview, and "AKA What A Life" is pretty good. I still think he peaked in 1994, "Definitely Maybe" and Neil Innes' "Whatever" remaining the best he's done.

Around that time he mentioned listening to Portishead and a few other interesting (i.e. not rock) artists. I can only assume Liam dictated what was played on the tour bus as, other than the Chemical Brothers tracks and a Beck remix, Oasis never strayed far from their comfort zone. Like Status Quo after they dumped psychedelia.

British female solo artist
Adele
Florence + the Machine
Jessie J
Kate Bush
Laura Marling

As much as I'd like Laura Marling to win, and cannot fathom how PJ Harvey can be nominated for best album and not here, this is probably Adele's.

Hilary Devey from Dragon's Den did well to get nominated here too.

British breakthrough act
Anna Calvi
Ed Sheeran
Emeli Sandé
Jessie J
The Vaccines

This is voted for by Radio 1 listeners. What is a typical Radio 1 listener?

Anna Calvi would be a decent winner.

The Vaccines are not my cup of tea. And they're posh! Cameron is probably a fan - possibly related! To the barricades, brothers! (And sisters!)

Siobhan Fahey's mum Hilary nominated here too.

British group
Arctic Monkeys
Chase & Status
Coldplay
Elbow
Kasabian

This is voted for by Radio 2 listeners, so it's probably Coldplay or Elbow. I cannot stand Kasabian. "Brick By Brick" disqualifies Arctic Monkeys.

British single
Adele - Someone Like You
Ed Sheeran - The A Team
Example - Changed The Way You Kissed Me
Jessie J Ft B.o.B. - Price Tag
JLS ft Dev - She Makes Me Wanna
Military Wives/Gareth Malone - Wherever You Are
Olly Murs ft Rizzle Kicks - Heart Skips A Beat
One Direction - What Makes You Beautiful
Pixie Lott - All About Tonight
The Wanted - Glad You Came

This is voted for by Capital listeners. Now not just London, but a chain of stations across the UK. But why are they all called Capital if they're not in London? (Cardiff, Edinburgh or Belfast, maybe...)

Oh, I don't know... of these, I've only heard Adele.

And another nomination for Hilary.

Mastercard British album of the year
Adele - 21
Coldplay - Mylo Xyloto
Ed Sheeran - +
Florence + the Machine - Ceremonials
PJ Harvey - Let England Shake

Adele sold squillions, so it's bound to be her award. PJ Harvey would be nice, but it won't happen. Q reckoned Shouty Florence was the best album of last year.

Yes, they did.

International male solo artist
Aloe Blacc
Bon Iver
Bruno Mars
David Guetta
Ryan Adams

Ugh. Dodgy dance, rubbish R&B, insufferable indie. If nobody has given Aloe Blacc a dollar yet, perhaps he'll win out of sympathy.

International female solo artist
Beyoncé
Björk
Feist
Lady Gaga
Rihanna

Give it to Feist! She's Canadian! Canadians are universally loved! (Except their Prime Minister.)

International group
Fleet Foxes
Foo Fighters
Jay-Z/Kanye West
Lady Antebellum
Maroon 5

A double act now counts as a group then? If Misters Z and West can't be bothered to think up a new name, it isn't a group.

International breakthrough act
Aloe Blacc
Bon Iver
Foster The People
Lana Del Rey
Nicki Minaj

Really struggling now. Lana Del Rey on the back of one single? Really?

Musical Youth : Spies Like Us

Paul McCartney - Spies Like Us



1986 could charitably be described as being in one of Macca's less-renowned periods.

The Frog Chorus, "We All Stand Together", "Give My Regards to Broad Street", Michael Jackson buying the rights to all The Beatles songs...

Dan Aykroyd and Chevy Chase, on the other hand, were doing quite well for themselves. Both had successfully graduated from Saturday Night Live to the movies. Aykroyd's "Ghostbusters" had been one of the biggest films of the previous year.

"Spies Like Us" starred Aykroyd and Chase as would-be spies who are duped into actually becoming spies and sent off to Russia for some nuclear brinkmanship. Hilarious! It's not the greatest film in the world, although I did drag my dad along to see it.

(I recently saw a few minutes of it on TV - it wasn't a funny bit.)

For some reason, Paul McCartney provided the title song. It's nothing remarkable, the wig-out at the end is quite lively.

The video features Aykroyd and Chase larking around in Abbey Road studios, interspersed with clips from the film. Chase would soon appear in the video for Paul Simon's "You Can Call Me Al", performing similar gurning duties.

All in all, unremarkable. The main thing I remember is Macca turning up on "Record Breakers" around the time of the release of the film and single. In full "spy" disguise - trench coat, moustache, sunglasses, hat - he supposedly set a record for slurping a cup of tea. Fab Macca Wacky Thumbs Aloft! (They may have actually mentioned something about The Beatles and number one records.)

Unlike his Bond theme, "Spies Like Us' doesn't get played live. Well, he didn't play it either of the two times that I've seen him. And if he did, I doubt he'd bother with the fireworks that accompany "Live and Let Die".

But you might get Chevy Chase turning up.

Musical Youth : One Step Further

Bardo - One Step Further



This was Britain's Eurovision Song Contest entry for 1982 - the year after Bucks Fizz, who had won with "Making Your Mind Up", probably helped by the girls' skirts being whipped off during the performance.

I don't think I'd heard this in over 25 years. Before jogging my memory with You Tube, only three things came to mind.

First, the picture on the sleeve was in very soft focus.

Second, the song comes to a juddering halt with them singing "One step ... one step!".

Finally, the chorus of Tight Fit's "Fantasy Island" (also from 1982) wah-ooh wa-oohs and all.

"One Step Further" sounds nothing like it.

It's not terrible. In fact, having listened to it several times while writing this entry, I can see why I liked it.

It's much better than Jemini and the other dross that the UK have forlornly sent to the continent. It reached number 2 in the charts.

The only disturbing thing is the lyrics.

It's the story of a shy, hopeless, lovelorn, tongue-tied stalker - with hints at underlying S&M tendencies...

I could have taken one step further and I would have been there
You could have turned around and hit me and I wouldn't have cared
All this time I didn't get anywhere

I was five at the time. How was I to know?

Musical Youth : Snooker Loopy

Chas & Dave - Snooker Loopy

Snooker, while still shown on television today, probably had its peak in the mid 80s. The 1985 world championship final between Steve Davis and Dennis Taylor went to the last ball of the last frame. Taylor won, the game finished well after midnight, with 18.5 million people watching. On BBC2!

Dave Lee Travis' "Give Us A Break" quiz on Radio 1 probably helped too. (I'm pretty sure that the quiz machine based on this was the very first that I played on.)

It's a complaint that there are fewer personalities now to hold the public interest, despite the efforts to give players unwieldy nicknames such as "The Jester from Leicester" and "The Wizard of Wishaw". Of course, Steve Davis always seemed to be an emotionless, potting robot - a notion long-since disproved. (His appearance in "The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Todd Margaret" was a joy.)

The idea of snooker being a lark was reinforced by "The Matchroom Mob" - players all managed by Barry Hearn's Matchroom Sport.

So you have a traditional pub 'sport' and want to record a novelty single. Who do you call? Why, the finest exponents of rockney, Chas & Dave! They're like The Wurzels of London's East End. They also had form with sport-related songs, having already done two for Tottenham Hotspurs cup runs in 1981 and 1982.

And so, in time for the 1986 world championship, "Snooker Loopy" was recorded. Several of the Matchroom players had a couple of lines dedicated to them, which (I've just realised) brings to mind Monty Python's "Bruce's Philosophers Song". Sometimes the player himself would provide a little vocal.

Then the chorus:

Snooker loopy nuts are we
Me and him and them and me

Try singing it like a medieval madrigal and it improves slightly. (Replace Chas' piano with a lute and you have a lost classic of the middle ages.)

The full lyrics are here if you need to know the rest. Yes, the BBC website.

The B-side was called "Wallop! (Snookered)". I remember only the bridge to the chorus, which had the most Cockney pronunciation of "He's gone down" - "eeeez gaaahn daaahn".

The only other thing I remember about the single is that it had all the results for the 1986 World Championship printed on the reverse of the sleeve. Joe Johnson won, if you're interested.

The Grey Singles Box of Dubious Quality

Growing up, I had a grey record box for my 7 inch vinyl singles. My sister, Nicola, had a similar one, which was red.

My Mum and Dad's albums were in the big record box downstairs. Abba, Frankie Valli, Elvis. Were there any Beatles or Stones album? Nostalgic TV shows which have shown pristine copies of Sgt Pepper have messed with my mind... but didn't we have a copy? Not that we ever listened to it.

There was also a "Junior Choice" compilation. The Wombles, Captain Beaky, Matchstick Men and Matchstalk Cats and Dogs and plenty more that escape me. (Runs to internet ... no, can't find anything.)

Most of their singles were stacked in a cupboard, sometimes brought out for our curiosity. "Let's Go To Jersey" being the strangest, "Jimmy Mack"/"Third Finger Left Hand" one of the best. However, "Dead Ringer For Love" lived in one of our record boxes. Looking at the release date (November 1981) I suspect my Dad bought it, unless it was a second birthday present for my sister...

With the passing of time, I can't properly remember all of the singles I owned. As I've compiled my confessional list, some may have belonged to Nicola. She definitely had better taste than me. She owned Frankie Goes To Hollywood's "The Power of Love". She bought The Housemartins' "Caravan of Love" - and me being the long-time Paul Heaton fan.

I know many had plain paper sleeves, which doesn't help my failing faculties. One of these definitely had an oversized centre hole, which was certainly an Adam Ant single. But which one? Not "Apollo 9" because that had the picture sleeve. (Ant sporting unnecessary plasters, years before Robbie Fowler was doing so.) "Goody Two Shoes"? I don't know.

I know there were also some dodgy rock singles (Whitesnake!) in there, which I think came from my cousin.

However, my own purchases were far worse. I can see myself waking up one morning, having recalled another terrible single. I'll let you know when I do.

Tune of the day

I've been humming bits from this all day. I do not know why.

The Proclaimers - as recommended by former Doctor Who (and their fellow Scotsman) David Tennant.

Enjoy!

Wikipedia is great! [citation needed]

Wikipedia will soon be eleven years old. It was founded on January 15, 2001 and since then has grown to be the primary source of material for lazy journalists.

The scope of articles is phenomenal, if disturbing. Alongside the topics you would expect from an encyclopedia - the natural world, history and so on - are the stranger peccadilloes of the Internet. Nothing is of too little importance, despite the attempts of editors to remove some of the chaff.

You can tell that the site has only been active for the last decade, and that some contributors have too much time on their hands, by looking any article on a living person.

Earlier today, I read the article about Adam Ant, for a "Musical Youth" post to come. The parts covering his initial tentative fame and early 80s heyday are detail enough, with detail comparable to that you might expect from a general history of British music. It also covers his move to America, acting roles and some further musical work. This neatly brings his story to the early 2000s, and Wikipedia.

The space devoted to his life since then is equivalent to that covering everything before.

His court appearance and sectioning are documented, as you might expect. The more recent activity is not. It is beyond meticulous, in the realm of obsessive.  The section for his 2011 UK tour is exhaustively detailed - split into two parts - with no gig review too minor to be excluded.

If newspapers are the first draft of history, Wikipedia may be the rough cut.

Musical youth

"If music be the food of love, play on."

He had a way with words, Shakespeare.

Like most people, music is something I enjoy. I have bought hundreds of CDs, been to dozens of gigs and a few festivals, written terrible lyrics that could have become awful songs, although never really had notions of being a performer. I bought, and still buy, music magazines.

I was born in 1977, Silver Jubilee year and about a month before the Sex Pistols were being held off number one by Rod Stewart and scurrilous rumours of chart fixing.

My childhood of the 1980s: the time of New Romantic, New Wave, heck even Wham! ...

... except it wasn't.

I did watch Top of the Pops when growing up ( "It's Thursday! It's 7 o'clock!") but can remember none of those iconic or awful - or both at the same time - performances.

My young taste in music was, frankly, terrible. (But is it not the same with any child?) Any singles I bought would be picked up in Morrison's supermarket with the weekly shopping. Woolworth's was a foreign land. HMV, Virgin, Our Price - these meant nothing to me. WH Smith may have prompted some curiosity, but I was more interested in the latest copy of Electron User or the computer games.

It wasn't until my first Saturday job much later that I began to expand my horizons. University broadened them further, bolstered by grant and student loan. I'll talk about my favourite discoveries separately.

But for now, and as I recall them from my ageing brain, I'm going to confess to the horrors I purchased with my pocket money. It might not be pretty.