When I watch a film like the oh so pleasant and at times remarkably accurate "That Thing You Do" I can't help but marvel at how spot on the songwriting was. The title track fits its time period perfectly even as it's simply a fantastic song, able to stand up to being played in the movie roughly 73 times and never once do you come close to getting tired of it, as though it seemed as though you'd known it all your life the very first time they play it. That's some seriously skilled writing on the part of Adam Schlesinger, one half of the songwriters of Fountains of Wayne, as well as reportedly consultants at their much in-demand telephone hotline.
Based on this relative throwaway of an outtake, or outtake of a relative throwaway, Bruce Springsteen could maybe score a gig like that, should the whole rock and roll legend thing suddenly dry up. This song could easily fit on a hidden masterpieces of the 1960s collection and no one would doubt it for a moment. (Other than the vocal which, while great, sounds a bit too adult to pass for sunny bubblegum.)
Someone asked me not too long ago what my all-time favorite Genesis song was. After running down a few dozen candidates, I was shocked to realize this just may be it. Probably not–more likely "Ripples" or "Turn It On Again" or "Cinema Show" or one of their instrumentals. No, wait, maybe it's "Blood on the Rootops." Or maybe "Dancing with the Moonlight Knight." Whatever. "Follow You, Follow Me" is a strong contender and there have certainly been times it was it.
And this cover more than lives up to the original. Mike Rutherford's oddly syncopated guitar works wonderfully on the original, and is absolutely absent here. Instead, it's got a plainly strummed guitar, an interestingly building Enossification of the backing tracks, and of course, Mark Kozelek's warm, hushed vocal, which manage to convey a delicate tenderness, and a haunted gravitas at the same time. Something about his voice makes it hard not to suspect that he's singing this to someone who's already left him. Which makes the opening words all the more effective.
Now this...this is a cover. It's faithful to the original material in pretty much every way, retaining the original chord progression, the melody, the lyrics. Yet Richard Thompson indelibly stamps his own personality on it—his is so strong, I can't imagine he'd be able to not, even if he were to try—and in doing so makes crystal clear that which could sometimes be hidden by the videogenic Lolita imagery of the original: it's one hell of a great pop song.
Listen to how the audience laughs when they first realize what he's playing—this, of all songs, during a concert devoted to, as the night was titled, 1000 Years of Popular Music, and indeed some of the songs were nearly that old—and yet by the end they're singing along flawlessly...and joyfully.
Blossom Dearie is something of an acquired taste, although it may be easier for those of us who grew up on Schoolhouse Rock to acquire said taste, given that she was the voice behind the much beloved "Figure Eight" and "Unpack Your Adjectives."
I don't care much for jazz vocals, alas, as a general rule. But this is one of my favorite songs and oh my goodness does this go right to the heart like an arrow to the knee. So tender, so sweet, so direct.
I can remember at least two LPs back in the day that had some variation on that theme. "This record was designed to be played loud. Turn it up!" That kind of thing.
Well, that actually does go for this. A lot of the nuances, the ghost notes and such, get lost if it's not loud enough. Of course, depending upon how much you turn it up, that does mean that the louder sections might be uncomfortably loud, but hey, that's life, no?
Phil Collins no longer seems to be the automatic punchline he was for a while, and good. A reappraisal has been due for some time—pretty much ever since his critical rating went down, in fact. But beyond the fact that I'm a fan, it was always a little baffling to me, since I've probably listened to this album of his more than any of his solo works and maybe more than any Genesis album. For whatever reason, I find it remarkably easy to write to. It's a groovy kind of love.
(The song is only a bit over six minutes long, incidentally—for some reason, the uploader put it on there twice. Hey, double the fusion, same low price!)
A question I read online recently: if forced to choose, whose solo works would you take to a desert island: Syd Barrett, Roger Waters, David Gilmour, Richard Wright or Nick Mason?
(Even including "Lie for a Lie," I assume the final two were put on there for inclusivity's sake.)
The obvious answer: any one Dave Gilmour LP is better than all of Roger Waters' solo works (not including The Final Cut) combined. And—sorry, Syd—probably everyone else's combined.
Because while, yes, Dave can't come within a few timezones of Roger's truly amazing skill as a lyricist, his abilities as a musician are so far above those of Roger's it's not even amusing, much less to death. And as Peter Gabriel once said, "There have been many great songs which have had really appalling lyrics, but there have been no great songs which have had appalling music."
For proof I offer this:
I mean...that's a cover. And Gilmour still makes it his own, and makes it absolutely captivating, despite the presence of the poodle-haired sax player wearing his pantaloons tucked into his boots. I mean, come on: has that ever been a good look? Ever? Okay, fine, sometime around the War of 1812, maybe. But that's debatable and, either way, 170 years later? Just...no.
And yet the performance. I first heard this song on an MTV broadcast of a 1984 concert—this one, I assume, although I think I always though it was from Pittsburgh—and was instantly smitten. Far too many years later, that hasn't changed. Gilmour's smoky, surprisingly supple voice and his amazingly lyrical, liquid guitar playing match wonderfully the moody, atmospheric song with time changes that are far from obtrusive but in fact match the tone of the song perfectly. Right there is the difference between The Wall and The Final Cut, not to mention between The Final Cut and everything that came after.
This is a hysterically accurate dead-on parody of early 80s rock videos, up there with "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and "Separate Ways." The fact that it's real just makes it all the better.
A pal sent it to me. Shocked that I—such an avid MTV viewer—had never seen or even heard of it before, I went looking for more info, and found this, which sums it up perfectly in the comments: "what the hell?"
This isn't the first time we've written about this song, not by a long shot. But what with the Greece debacle, it felt like it was time for it yet again. Only this time, things seem even more uncertain than ever.
Our love here at RtB for "Friday I'm in Love" is well-established. Our love for Yo La Tengo, sadly, is not as well-documented but is just as pure and true. Which is why this is such a delight. Also, easily the sweetest, most romantic video we've seen since "Pop! Goes My Heart."
This is 14 years old now. I'm not sure why I thought about it today, but for whatever reason I had to see it again.
I hadn't seen this clip since it aired during a Joni Mitchell tribute concert way back in 2001. I was mesmerized then and remain so, following my long-awaited second viewing, today. I remember watching the whole show and loving pretty much every inch of it, but even through it all this was, for me, the unquestioned highlight.
Shawn Colvin + Mary Chapin Carpenter + one of Joni's prettiest songs = Yes please!
Mayhap you agree.
People will tell you where they've gone,
They'll tell you where to go,
But till you get there yourself you'll never really know.
Where some have found their paradise,
Other's just come to harm.
Oh Amelia it was just a false alarm.
I had neither heard this song nor seen this video in several decades, and yet I was amazed at how well I remembered so much of it, from the melody to some of the lyrics to a lot of the visuals: I always especially loved the screeching guitar part at 2:25, neverminding the fact that his hands should be moving down the neck and not up.
But what I don't remember ever knowing is that the song is in 5/4 but that during the choruses, the drummer—either Mark Brzezicki or Simon Phillips, the credits aren't clear—plays as though the signature has switched to 4/4.
Also, are guys really supposed to use that much aftershave?
I loved this damn movie. I did. What can I say? I was 9 and even dumber than I am now.
But I was so unhappy with the ending. I could not believe that Sandy sold out. I mean, I get that Danny did too—except he immediately went back to his "real" self for her, and she had to stay as the "new and improved" her...and the new and improved her was absolutely no improvement over the original her because you cannot improve upon the perfection that was the original version of Sandy.
They’re holdin’ a committee, of treason and lies Doublespeak and sedition, then somebody dies From the hill the smell of lilacs, the repeat of guns She closes the window, draws the blinds Her first touch sucks the air from my lungs Hey blue eyes, what’cha doin’ tonight? Hey blue eyes yea it’s all right
She says in this house we’ve abandoned history In this house there are no laws Just the false taste of paradise, and then the fall In this house the guilty go unpunished, blood and silence prevail Here the dead remain nameless, the nameless remain jailed Hey blue eyes, what’cha doin’ tonight? Hey blue eyes yea it’s all right
In this house there’s just the dust of bones The basement’s filled with lye In this house our son’s and daughters, are spilled like wine So come close my pretty darlin’ and let me feel your disease Tonight I’ll have you naked, and crawlin’ at the end of my leash Hey blue eyes, what’cha doin’ tonight? Hey blue eyes hey it’s all right
She says, in this house it’s so easy To set a world on fire, all you need is a name, the money And a soul full of reckless desire Now upstairs the landlord is dining with all of his very close friends Don’t worry they’ll have their bags packed and be long gone Before the real fucking begins Hey blue eyes, what’cha doin’ tonight? Hey blue eyes hey it’s all right Hey blue eyes, what’cha doin’ tonight? Hey blue eyes yea it’s all right
I love this song. (Even if Cali gets a tiny bit shortchanged.)
It's a part of the act The fifty states Pack up your bags It's never too late
From Alabama to Arkansas Follow Alaska, say what you saw Swim in the ocean, Maryland, Maine Then Massachusetts, what a great place Go to New Hampshire, Missouri too It's not Virgina but it will do
Take a drive to Ohio We went running through the oil And my favourite avenue I tried it all my favourite choose
There's Mississippi, Kentucky blue Rhode Island rage And a Tennessee too See Oklahoma or Michigan There's a Nevada, see Washington win Or Arizona, Colorado Connecticut Yankee, love Ohio Louisiana, Delaware who Go Minnesota, we're thinking of you
When we came to Washington We went running through the rain In my favourite city park In my favourite time of day
Oh California, Wyoming too Go to Wisconsin, New Jersey loves you Fly in to Georgia, Idaho Bay Or Indiana, they all seem the same Flordia voting, Montana chew Visit Nebrasksa, there's nothing to do North Carolina, Oregon arms Illinois people, Illinois farms
If I lived in Rhode Island Or if I lived in Michigan Or if I lived to be a man Will you comfort me again?
There's West Virgina, gold in Vermont Visit Hawaii or New Mexico Iowa, Texas, take it all in The Mormans in Utah, the money in gin There's Pennsylvania, driving at night South Carolina, what a delight Dakotas and Kansas Piggy and pork Jump on a train, head back to New York
It's a part of the act The fifty states Pack up your bags, it's never too late
God bless America Land that I love God bless America Land that I love
Been listening to a lot of Yes since Chris Squire's passing which is how I got to this and, well, it's pretty revelatory. I'd read that Trevor Horn had heard this Trevor Rabin demo and convinced a skeptical Rabin to work on it, but I'd never actually heard the demo and holy god does Trevor Horn have golden ears. How the hell do you hear a #1 hit in this sporadically really interesting but generally really generic 80s AOR skeleton?
Going from that to this
is...unlikely. And yet.
Alan White's drum part is magnificently understated, while this may be the most underplayed bass part Squire ever played. Also, damn, Rabin's one hell of a rock guitarist.
