Like Up the Junction, this is a song with a narrative heart tinged with a downbeat sentiment, but enhanced with a plaintive delivery.
This song is like listening to a story book, but with the bonus of a nice repetitive chorus. The lyrics on the whole are very simple, but every so often there will be a lyrical loop or alliteration that will just sound genius on the ears. It is a real pleasure to listen to songs that have been written with a eye and ear for poetry, it makes such a difference. And it’s sung with a nice swooping tone on certain words – perfect to try and emulate - try it!
She moved home alon-e without friends or rel-a-tions
Lived in a wo-rld full of age reserv-a-tion
Labelled with Love tells us the story of an older lady – the sort of lady people grimace at and quickly walk past in the supermarket before they get a whiff of Eau De Pee. But then we see into where she lives and what an empty struggle it is – there’s nothing left for her in life apart from her memories, unlocked with whisky. Further to that we hear what she was like as a younger lady – adventurous to marry an American pilot during the Second World War, and go off to Texas with him. Yet he was an alcoholic, and the sentence ‘he became drinker and she became mother’ leads me to believe not that she had children, but that she forego motherhood in that sense to look after her husband instead. The next part ‘she knew that one day she’d be one or the other’ was her insightfulness that one day she’d too turn the same way, but with no inclination to prevent it, even though he died from alcoholism. After that she came back to the UK only to find there was nothing left for her here, except for the old age she once predicted – bottles labelled with love.
Oh how depressing and sad, yet strangely this is a beautiful song, although something does jar with me, in both this and with Up the Junction. Both songs have a sentence within them that, to my ears, sounds lazy – as if the songwriter couldn’t find anything else suitable to rhyme so he stuck in a sentence thinking ‘it’ll do’, and the problem is the rest is so nice that it just doesn’t ‘do’ – if you see my meaning. For me with this song it is the lyrics in bold:
She crossed the ocean back home to her family
But they had retired to roads that were sandy
I get what he means – they’ve gone to Bournemouth, or similar, but I can’t help wishing he’d strived for higher there. To me that is the sort of poetry I'd write when I'm stuck. And with Up the Junction it is the lyrics in bold:
No more nights by the telly
No more nights nappies smelling
In that song he’d already used the word ‘telly’ to rhyme with ‘smelly’ – and this repeat just feels like it doesn't enhance the song - it's not a chorus, it doesn't tell us anything new about the character's predicament - it's just... well, filler - and I hate thinking there is filler on songs I love, as the rest is just so good!
Showing posts with label music month. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music month. Show all posts
Tuesday, 22 July 2008
Sunday, 13 July 2008
Eleanor Rigby – The Beatles
If someone held a match to my bookshelf and said I absolutely had to choose just one song from The Beatles otherwise the Agatha Christie’s get it, the song I’d choose would always be Eleanor Rigby.
What an outstanding song this is – from composition to subject matter to final delivery. It was one of the first songs from a hugely popular band to seriously consider the effects of loneliness, although I’m not altogether convinced that Paul McCartney set out to write it as such, I think he just knew (and knows) when words sound good together. All the best songwriters are poets and storytellers at heart, and this song combines both abilities in a compelling and haunting tale that ends up being beautiful, despite the sombre images the words conjure in mind.
It brings a faded world into reality for me, those years left bleak after the Second World War, with widows and graves growing old. The name ‘Eleanor Rigby’ sounds like an older lady, and ‘picking up rice’ after a wedding, living in a dream. Already she is rather mysterious – is she thinking of her own wedding or a lost love? Does she work in the church? Either way it’s not a very cheerful hobby - and ‘rice’ now sounds rather exotic to people brought up with Clinton Cards paper confetti (if you are allowed to throw it, that is). Yet she goes home, does her make up, and sits and waits – now she sounds like Miss Havisham from Great Expectations, and the inference with the chorus is that no-one cares if Eleanor Rigby makes up her face or not, as she gets no visitors. ‘All the lonely people’ – such a sad refrain.
And then we have the good padre, Father McKenzie, still hoping to touch people with his words although no-one bothers to listen. He may be all alone but he still ‘darns his socks’ – again a hint of something now exotic – is he poor? Still cares about appearances even if no one sees his socks? Almost army-like, in a way… And there you have it, these two lonely people within a whisker of each other, she in the church yard, he in the church, but no happy ending in the third verse. Eleanor has died a lonely death, with only Father McKenzie attending (as his job) to help bury her (along with her name – oh that is so poignant). No one is saved, well; no one is safe from loneliness. It can creep up unbidden.
And that’s my take on the lyrics… which for me is also reinforced by how this song is used in the animated film Yellow Submarine, as that was almost certainly my first introduction to it. The style of the animation is odd and dark, strange snapshots of Liverpool with repeated moving images that look taken from a Pathe news reel, touched with an Andy Warhol screen-print of colour. Industrial chimneys, old architectural shapes made by the buildings and cobbles. And then there are the lonely people, all men in their suits, going off to work in the city, standing there with their symbols of old city life, the briefcase and the umbrella. It makes my heart sad, as their time has past and gone. On a more personal level, my dad used to go to work in the city with his briefcase and umbrella, and his time too is past and gone… so you can see how this tugs at my heartstrings. Ah well…
The melody – well – spot a Beatle playing on this! They didn’t, although George and John did sing harmony and backing to Paul’s lovely lead vocal. However I love the contributions alluded to on the wiki page for Eleanor Rigby, that all The Beatles (and their pal Pete Shotton) helped finish the song at John’s home, with Ringo coming up with the line ‘writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear’ and George with the brilliance of the refrain ‘Ah, look at all the lonely people’. It’s nice to think of them all there, and Paul playing his song for them, and them all suggesting ideas over a nice cup of tea and a biscuit. At least, that is how I imagine it!
So there we have it, the lovely Eleanor Rigby. We all know her name today… and it was the main inspiration when naming my main character in the novel, although that is not immediately apparent – you won’t find any Eleanor’s or any Rigby’s! But it’s rather obvious to me… I guess you’ll have to wait and see!
What an outstanding song this is – from composition to subject matter to final delivery. It was one of the first songs from a hugely popular band to seriously consider the effects of loneliness, although I’m not altogether convinced that Paul McCartney set out to write it as such, I think he just knew (and knows) when words sound good together. All the best songwriters are poets and storytellers at heart, and this song combines both abilities in a compelling and haunting tale that ends up being beautiful, despite the sombre images the words conjure in mind.
It brings a faded world into reality for me, those years left bleak after the Second World War, with widows and graves growing old. The name ‘Eleanor Rigby’ sounds like an older lady, and ‘picking up rice’ after a wedding, living in a dream. Already she is rather mysterious – is she thinking of her own wedding or a lost love? Does she work in the church? Either way it’s not a very cheerful hobby - and ‘rice’ now sounds rather exotic to people brought up with Clinton Cards paper confetti (if you are allowed to throw it, that is). Yet she goes home, does her make up, and sits and waits – now she sounds like Miss Havisham from Great Expectations, and the inference with the chorus is that no-one cares if Eleanor Rigby makes up her face or not, as she gets no visitors. ‘All the lonely people’ – such a sad refrain.
And then we have the good padre, Father McKenzie, still hoping to touch people with his words although no-one bothers to listen. He may be all alone but he still ‘darns his socks’ – again a hint of something now exotic – is he poor? Still cares about appearances even if no one sees his socks? Almost army-like, in a way… And there you have it, these two lonely people within a whisker of each other, she in the church yard, he in the church, but no happy ending in the third verse. Eleanor has died a lonely death, with only Father McKenzie attending (as his job) to help bury her (along with her name – oh that is so poignant). No one is saved, well; no one is safe from loneliness. It can creep up unbidden.
And that’s my take on the lyrics… which for me is also reinforced by how this song is used in the animated film Yellow Submarine, as that was almost certainly my first introduction to it. The style of the animation is odd and dark, strange snapshots of Liverpool with repeated moving images that look taken from a Pathe news reel, touched with an Andy Warhol screen-print of colour. Industrial chimneys, old architectural shapes made by the buildings and cobbles. And then there are the lonely people, all men in their suits, going off to work in the city, standing there with their symbols of old city life, the briefcase and the umbrella. It makes my heart sad, as their time has past and gone. On a more personal level, my dad used to go to work in the city with his briefcase and umbrella, and his time too is past and gone… so you can see how this tugs at my heartstrings. Ah well…
The melody – well – spot a Beatle playing on this! They didn’t, although George and John did sing harmony and backing to Paul’s lovely lead vocal. However I love the contributions alluded to on the wiki page for Eleanor Rigby, that all The Beatles (and their pal Pete Shotton) helped finish the song at John’s home, with Ringo coming up with the line ‘writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear’ and George with the brilliance of the refrain ‘Ah, look at all the lonely people’. It’s nice to think of them all there, and Paul playing his song for them, and them all suggesting ideas over a nice cup of tea and a biscuit. At least, that is how I imagine it!
So there we have it, the lovely Eleanor Rigby. We all know her name today… and it was the main inspiration when naming my main character in the novel, although that is not immediately apparent – you won’t find any Eleanor’s or any Rigby’s! But it’s rather obvious to me… I guess you’ll have to wait and see!
Monday, 7 July 2008
Angie Baby – Helen Reddy
Forget Jamie and his Magic Torch, this is all about Angie and her Magic Radio…
This song was released in 1974, and to me it really sums up that sort of childhood period of listening to the radio late at night under the covers. I used to have a Pepsi can portable radio, and although I didn’t keep boys inside it (nice trick, Angie) I did like to listen to it when the room was lit only by moonlight.
Angie Baby is a narrative about a girl that is ‘touched’ – and that is the crucial point of this song, that the girl in question is perhaps a bit magical, a bit gifted in the strange sense of the word. Originally the song-writer, Alan O’Day, used the word ‘slow', which would have given the song a completely different feel. Making the girl in question a bit otherworldly adds an extra layer of interest and complexity to the lyrics.
This song caused a lot of speculation about the meaning when it first came out – everyone apparently wanted a detailed explanation of what happened to the boy in the song. Surely it was obvious – Angie put him in her special radio and brought him out to play on occasions – who needs Ann Summers? So then of course Women’s Lib loved it, although that could have been more because of the nature of some of Helen Reddy’s other songs.
Helen’s vocals suit this song perfectly; she has a lovely twang to her voice that softens the delivery, yet pronunciation is crystal clear. And the melody – there is a lounge-band atmosphere with this song that I really like; I can almost imagine the instrumental version being softly played in an expensive 1970s cocktail lounge, full of women in sequin dresses and men in wide-lapel suits, clinking glasses amidst a riot of orange / brown décor.
And to think this could have been recorded by Cher…
More info here, and a rather delightful video set to this song below.
Postscript
I was very sad to hear that Alan O'Day died in May 2013, and feel very blessed that he took time to comment on this blog post. I especially love how he says below that 'Angie' would have approved of my interpretation - that is such a special gift and one I will always treasure. Thank you, Alan. x
I was recently (October 2013) emailed by James Collins, one half of the band Wahl Collins, who, with Alan's blessing, recorded a cover version of Angie Baby. It's really good - go check out their YouTube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HyrrOuBnFc4.
This song was released in 1974, and to me it really sums up that sort of childhood period of listening to the radio late at night under the covers. I used to have a Pepsi can portable radio, and although I didn’t keep boys inside it (nice trick, Angie) I did like to listen to it when the room was lit only by moonlight.
Angie Baby is a narrative about a girl that is ‘touched’ – and that is the crucial point of this song, that the girl in question is perhaps a bit magical, a bit gifted in the strange sense of the word. Originally the song-writer, Alan O’Day, used the word ‘slow', which would have given the song a completely different feel. Making the girl in question a bit otherworldly adds an extra layer of interest and complexity to the lyrics.
This song caused a lot of speculation about the meaning when it first came out – everyone apparently wanted a detailed explanation of what happened to the boy in the song. Surely it was obvious – Angie put him in her special radio and brought him out to play on occasions – who needs Ann Summers? So then of course Women’s Lib loved it, although that could have been more because of the nature of some of Helen Reddy’s other songs.
Helen’s vocals suit this song perfectly; she has a lovely twang to her voice that softens the delivery, yet pronunciation is crystal clear. And the melody – there is a lounge-band atmosphere with this song that I really like; I can almost imagine the instrumental version being softly played in an expensive 1970s cocktail lounge, full of women in sequin dresses and men in wide-lapel suits, clinking glasses amidst a riot of orange / brown décor.
And to think this could have been recorded by Cher…
More info here, and a rather delightful video set to this song below.
Postscript
I was very sad to hear that Alan O'Day died in May 2013, and feel very blessed that he took time to comment on this blog post. I especially love how he says below that 'Angie' would have approved of my interpretation - that is such a special gift and one I will always treasure. Thank you, Alan. x
I was recently (October 2013) emailed by James Collins, one half of the band Wahl Collins, who, with Alan's blessing, recorded a cover version of Angie Baby. It's really good - go check out their YouTube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HyrrOuBnFc4.
Thursday, 3 July 2008
Super Trouper – Abba
The beauty of many of Abba’s songs is that they set jaunty melodies to somewhat melancholic lyrics – the result is this odd juxtaposition of emotions, yet when it works, it really works – something I am sure they all realised early on.
Super Trouper demonstrates this odd pull of emotions – the lyrics (we are led to believe) are biographical – about a band that hate touring, can’t wait to finish, are lonely and depressed, the lights blind them onstage, victims of their own success – the litany goes forever on. Yet they are not just ‘troupers’ - which, incidentally, means ‘a person who deals with and persists through difficulty or hardship without complaint’ (although we are given a list of them) – they are ‘super troupers’ – which means the poor things must really be suffering through their smiles. But the song does give us hope that the band aren’t sobbing into their shiny satin hankies each night before going on stage – they have friends in the audience, and their faces will get them through the hardship of being isolated on stage.
Gosh. Poor Abba. I am sure they had plenty of high moments as well, but I can’t help thinking how hard it must have been to be two married couples in the same band – no escape at all, and then when everything crumbled under pressure they still had to carry on (for a bit). I find ‘The Winner Takes It All’ such a hard song to listen to, even though they have stressed it wasn’t about divorce (as I think it was Benny that said ‘there are no winners in divorce’) but how painful that must have been to sing for others. Sometimes Abba’s music is pretty raw, emotions laid bare, something that can be forgotten under the layers of spandex and the happy shiny disco of ‘Dancing Queen’.
Super Trouper demonstrates this odd pull of emotions – the lyrics (we are led to believe) are biographical – about a band that hate touring, can’t wait to finish, are lonely and depressed, the lights blind them onstage, victims of their own success – the litany goes forever on. Yet they are not just ‘troupers’ - which, incidentally, means ‘a person who deals with and persists through difficulty or hardship without complaint’ (although we are given a list of them) – they are ‘super troupers’ – which means the poor things must really be suffering through their smiles. But the song does give us hope that the band aren’t sobbing into their shiny satin hankies each night before going on stage – they have friends in the audience, and their faces will get them through the hardship of being isolated on stage.
Gosh. Poor Abba. I am sure they had plenty of high moments as well, but I can’t help thinking how hard it must have been to be two married couples in the same band – no escape at all, and then when everything crumbled under pressure they still had to carry on (for a bit). I find ‘The Winner Takes It All’ such a hard song to listen to, even though they have stressed it wasn’t about divorce (as I think it was Benny that said ‘there are no winners in divorce’) but how painful that must have been to sing for others. Sometimes Abba’s music is pretty raw, emotions laid bare, something that can be forgotten under the layers of spandex and the happy shiny disco of ‘Dancing Queen’.
Wednesday, 2 July 2008
Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd
This song has a quiet build up, and when the guitar comes in so loud over the main melody it's startling yet perfectly accompanies the sound. Imagine hearing the beginning tune over the radio and someone sitting alongside you picking the notes out casually but effortlessly with their guitar – and that is exactly the effect Roger Waters wanted, and achieved.
The lyrics – so sad is the first thing I think... like what depression would sound like if it could sing. The words send goose bumps up my arms as the fairly short lyrics are so layered with meaning. It depends if you concentrate on the musicianship or the lyrical vision - one or the other you might get clarity, but together it is a brilliant song, and the irony of 'wish you were here' - oh this last is a cutting swipe. No I don't wish I was there, or anywhere near there, although at times in everyone’s life I think they will stop to visit.
The song to me conjures up images of the tide, a relentless ebb and flow that will continue undisturbed by the mishaps of mice and men. Apparently this song was written around feelings of alienation, and refers to former Pink Floyd member Syd Barrett (see more about the song here). I can sense the depression, the feeling of being unconnected to everything around you, and time can march on relentlessly no matter what small brakes you put in its path to stop the progress. It’s hard to pick a favourite part of the lyrics – I usually fall for the hook with the line and sinker, so it’s probably not a surprise for me to pick:
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
I can see this so clearly - all the bitter disillusioned old soldiers coming back home after the Second World War to find there was nothing left for them, and no matter what horror they had seen they had to try and fit back in to society the way they did before, no matter how damaged. And the earlier line:
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts
Again - as a child watching these tall men go off to fight for their country, and the space you see in the eyes when they return, if they return...
It’s such a perfectly crafted song, an ‘everyman’ song, and it might be sad but there is beauty in sadness that is too rich to ignore. So here it is...
The lyrics – so sad is the first thing I think... like what depression would sound like if it could sing. The words send goose bumps up my arms as the fairly short lyrics are so layered with meaning. It depends if you concentrate on the musicianship or the lyrical vision - one or the other you might get clarity, but together it is a brilliant song, and the irony of 'wish you were here' - oh this last is a cutting swipe. No I don't wish I was there, or anywhere near there, although at times in everyone’s life I think they will stop to visit.
The song to me conjures up images of the tide, a relentless ebb and flow that will continue undisturbed by the mishaps of mice and men. Apparently this song was written around feelings of alienation, and refers to former Pink Floyd member Syd Barrett (see more about the song here). I can sense the depression, the feeling of being unconnected to everything around you, and time can march on relentlessly no matter what small brakes you put in its path to stop the progress. It’s hard to pick a favourite part of the lyrics – I usually fall for the hook with the line and sinker, so it’s probably not a surprise for me to pick:
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
I can see this so clearly - all the bitter disillusioned old soldiers coming back home after the Second World War to find there was nothing left for them, and no matter what horror they had seen they had to try and fit back in to society the way they did before, no matter how damaged. And the earlier line:
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts
Again - as a child watching these tall men go off to fight for their country, and the space you see in the eyes when they return, if they return...
It’s such a perfectly crafted song, an ‘everyman’ song, and it might be sad but there is beauty in sadness that is too rich to ignore. So here it is...
Tuesday, 1 July 2008
Matchstalk Men and Matchstalk Cats and Dogs – Brian and Michael
I’ve decided to kick off music month with this delightfully gentle song from Manchester duo Brian and Michael.
This is one of the earliest songs that ever caught my attention, and held it as I grew older. It was released in 1978, which would have made me rather small, but still I remember being quiet when I heard this song on the radio. The big attraction for me probably would have been because it mentions cats, and at the time that was exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up, having not yet discovered humans cannot grow up and be furry, unless they have some sort of problem. I think the other draw to the song was because the lyrics are quite visual, and they read very much like a picture book story with a beginning and an ending, and even the title sounds like something that could be found amongst the children’s corner in bookshops.
Another draw for me was it had other children singing it, and other children were absolutely fascinating to me when I was little, especially bigger children. And here they were, singing from the radio! They must be well grand – I wanted to be one of those kids singing la-le-la-li-lo in the background. The other appeal was the sort of finality of the end verse – I’m not sure at that age I would have grasped what that meant, but the melancholy tone, even though it was sung in a jaunty voice, made the song very memorable and very haunting, in a way.
Now fully grown (and not a cat, damn), I appreciate this song even more for the same reasons, expect now there’s a few added extras. After studying art for so many years, I have a good appreciation for Lowry and enjoy his work. It always feels like Lowry was an artist that died in the 19th century, so it is still quite a surprise that he died in 1976. I read a great story recently about when Lowry was invited to the BBC to do an interview during the 1960’s and his main concern was that no one in the green room could do a proper cup of tea. I like that, and it fits in nicely with these lyrics:
Now canvas and brushes were wearing thin
So this song, celebrating his life, seems to me to be a very fitting tribute and it’s nice to think he would have been very pleased about it. I also love hearing about modern social history, and I think this song really helps paint a picture, of both the time they are singing about, and the 1970’s in a way – the latter with a nice nostalgic rosy glow for me.
And as for the duo themselves, they appear very Internet savvy, with their own youtube webpage here, and their myspace here, and a good sense of humour about things. Even though they are known for 'Matchstalk Men', they are very accomplished musicans and obviously still get enjoyment from their music, and I hope especially for this song that brought so much happiness to others. Cheers guys!
This is one of the earliest songs that ever caught my attention, and held it as I grew older. It was released in 1978, which would have made me rather small, but still I remember being quiet when I heard this song on the radio. The big attraction for me probably would have been because it mentions cats, and at the time that was exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up, having not yet discovered humans cannot grow up and be furry, unless they have some sort of problem. I think the other draw to the song was because the lyrics are quite visual, and they read very much like a picture book story with a beginning and an ending, and even the title sounds like something that could be found amongst the children’s corner in bookshops.
Another draw for me was it had other children singing it, and other children were absolutely fascinating to me when I was little, especially bigger children. And here they were, singing from the radio! They must be well grand – I wanted to be one of those kids singing la-le-la-li-lo in the background. The other appeal was the sort of finality of the end verse – I’m not sure at that age I would have grasped what that meant, but the melancholy tone, even though it was sung in a jaunty voice, made the song very memorable and very haunting, in a way.
Now fully grown (and not a cat, damn), I appreciate this song even more for the same reasons, expect now there’s a few added extras. After studying art for so many years, I have a good appreciation for Lowry and enjoy his work. It always feels like Lowry was an artist that died in the 19th century, so it is still quite a surprise that he died in 1976. I read a great story recently about when Lowry was invited to the BBC to do an interview during the 1960’s and his main concern was that no one in the green room could do a proper cup of tea. I like that, and it fits in nicely with these lyrics:
Now canvas and brushes were wearing thin
When London started calling him
To come on down and wear the old flat cap
They said tell us all about your ways
And all about them Salford days
Is it true you're just an ordinary chap
So this song, celebrating his life, seems to me to be a very fitting tribute and it’s nice to think he would have been very pleased about it. I also love hearing about modern social history, and I think this song really helps paint a picture, of both the time they are singing about, and the 1970’s in a way – the latter with a nice nostalgic rosy glow for me.
And as for the duo themselves, they appear very Internet savvy, with their own youtube webpage here, and their myspace here, and a good sense of humour about things. Even though they are known for 'Matchstalk Men', they are very accomplished musicans and obviously still get enjoyment from their music, and I hope especially for this song that brought so much happiness to others. Cheers guys!
Monday, 30 June 2008
Upcoming - Music Month!
I've decided that July needs some positive vibes, so it is going to be music month here on my blog, although if anything good happens with the novel, life, job and flat situation (sigh) then I will be sure to tell you. So let's cross fingers for that, and in the meanwhile...
This music month will have a theme; I will be trying to do a post each day (or every other day) on songs that really touch me, and what is it about them that I enjoy. So expect a whirlpool of genres, a crazy mish-mash of 'choons', and we'll see where it takes us!
Ah, who to start with tomorrow though, now there's a question... I shall ponder it while I continue watching the Top Fifty Blockbuster Films or whatever it is currently on Five. I do get sucked into these things...
This music month will have a theme; I will be trying to do a post each day (or every other day) on songs that really touch me, and what is it about them that I enjoy. So expect a whirlpool of genres, a crazy mish-mash of 'choons', and we'll see where it takes us!
Ah, who to start with tomorrow though, now there's a question... I shall ponder it while I continue watching the Top Fifty Blockbuster Films or whatever it is currently on Five. I do get sucked into these things...
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