Archive for ye olde worlde / times past

Adoration (the first in an occasional series).

{ March 11, 2008 @ 7:03 pm } · { music, ye olde worlde / times past }
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((A post in which the girl lists a few songs and explains her love for them. In absolutely no particular order – all are completely equal.))
I’m not completely sure when I heard this song for the first time. Somewhere back in my childhood I know, but I can’t pinpoint the moment. Like another of the songs in this list it seems to have followed me through the years, being one of the few songs that whenever I hear it I have to listen to it all the way through – no skipping halfway for me. Talking Heads are one of those very 80’s, artistic, (dare I say it) cool bands that many poseurs profess a love of – I’m not one of them. I’m not a huge fan, I don’t study their back catalogue or hunt out rarities on Ebay, however the songs of theirs that I’ve heard, I love (cf. “Road to Nowhere” – as the youtube comment says, “truer words have never been spoken before, about life”). My Dad always instilled a great love of words, lyrics, the intention behind a song, so maybe that is the thing that attracts me to this song? I’m not going to over-analyse it – the song is damn good, no further explanation needed.

From the sublime to the ridiculous, right?! Shut up. Regardless of your stance on soft rock/college rock/AOR tripe/whatever pigeonhole you label the Goo Goo Dolls in (and believe me, there are many little bird holes that they could fit in), this song is also sublime. It swings along like butter melting in sunshine with the kind of chorus that everyone knows word for word after just a couple of listens. Isn’t that the sign of a good, no, great song? Rather than linking the promo video, I chose the version from their 2004 free concert in Buffalo – a show as infamous for the torrential downpour that almost cancelled the whole thing due to safety issues (electric instruments + water = badness) as it is for just being damn good.

Oh Mr Zimmerman, how I love you. Now I’ll admit, this probably isn’t my out-and-out favourite Dylan song (I don’t think I could pick just one), however this one has a whole heap of amazing memories for me. As a child, all long car journeys were soundtracked by either the greatest hits of The Drifters or “Bringing It All Back Home” by Bob, and my sister and I (my brother was a mere twinkle in my parents’ eyes at this point) would scream “I AIN’T GONNA WORK ON MAGGIE’S FARM NO MOOOOOORE!” in the backseat like deranged little banshees, filling the lyrics we didn’t know with our own versions of the song. It always brings a smile. I chose the Newport Festival performance because it’s a prime example of Bob wtfpwning the world, particularly the old folk community whose Arran knit sweaters had got a little too tight and cut off the blood to their heads… or something.

A perfect little slice of dreampop, this one. Hope Sandoval has the kind of voice I could only ever dream of, and this song is exquisite. Nothing more to say.

My other “stalking” song (see number 1 above)! Honestly, I must hear this at least once a week – over shopping centre piped music, in lifts, hearing someone on my street practicing it on their saxophone, all over the place. With most songs this kind of frequency would make me sick and tired of the song in the same way that hearing “Chasing Pavements” every time I turn the radio on has made me hate Adele with such a passion it almost shocks me. “Baker Street” is different, because “Baker Street” is good.

Blink!

{ January 10, 2008 @ 11:46 am } · { beepbeep, memes, music, ye olde worlde / times past }
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It’s been a day filled with ovens, boiled tuna (yuck), yoga and train sets.  Varied, huh?  Now I am sat listening to a Seasick Steve track, playing on someone else’s blog and wondering whether he’s going to become the latest blog-meme, the new Chuck Norris / LOLcat / whatever.  I’ve seen his name bandied around various places, such as last weekends Saturday supplement in the paper, a national radio station and now a couple of blogs, but until now I hadn’t heard any of his music (despite the woman on the radio begging all listeners to wait five minutes to hear his track, I switched off as I had a toddler demanding to be fed that very instant).  What I’m hearing so far seems… bleh.  Not exactly my cup of tea, but I never was much of a fan of old, drunk-sounding men yelling like extras from The Beverly Hillbillies.  Perhaps I’ll try listening to another track, see if it changes my mind…  I wouldn’t want to discount someone on the basis of one song – he could just be having a very bad day/sore throat/feeling miserable, right?

Right.

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I used to be a huge music obsessive. Every spare (and sometimes not so spare) penny would be spent on cds, vinyl and tickets to all kinds of concerts.  A lot of the time, however, these purchases would be made to stay in line with friends, rather than out of an actual desire to own the cds or see the bands. I still feel a bit daft for doing that.

During the necessary peaks and troughs of the last few years, my music obsession waned to nothing more than a fleeting listen to the radio whilst cooking.  My cds were never unpacked from the cardboard box after we moved house, and they still sit in a wardrobe today, encased in a coffin of brown card and packing tape.  Despite (or maybe because of) this, I’m slowly starting to take more of an interest, albeit not in brand-spanking new music.  I’ve always like the Red Hot Chili Peppers, though perhaps not as obsessively as many, and over the last couple of months I’ve been trying to listen to more of John Frusciante’s solo work, particuarly the album “Curtains”.  The tracks of it that I have heard I’ve loved (“The Past Recedes” is never off my iPod), so I’m hoping to try and get the album, either as a download or by ye olde shop purchase.  We’ll see.

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At the moment, Beepbeep is playing with a wooden trainset that used to belong to Mr Fox.  It is a lovingly battered thing, still-shiny wheels and brightly painted carriages, pale wooden track scattered over my carpet as Beepbeep concentrates on the trains themselves.  He’s worked out that the magnets let the trains follow the one he holds, but he hasn’t quite managed to place them on the track, or even know what the track is for (despite my slightly OTT demonstration).  Apart from losing the odd carriage to the sofa (he can’t reach all the way back to retrieve them), he seems to be quite happy, so it gives me time to sit here and try to get used to blogging again.  I’ve read so many interesting, well-written blogs, and whilst I hope I may have learned a little from what I’ve read, I always feel a bit self-conscious about how I write.  However!  This blog is no place for self-conscious needy whining, so that train of thought will stay right there… or perhaps I’ll throw it onto the sofa to join Beepbeep’s abandoned collection of wooden carriages?  That seems as good a place as any.

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My arms ache.  A couple of hours ago I channel-hopped my way to DIVAtv, a channel I assume is focussed at the stay-at-home-mum demograph I’ve found myself in.  Nestled between programes about holiday destinations and cookery is Yoga TV, a half hourly yoga session led by Australian Kris McIntyre.  Half an hour, you say?  Easy to follow, hmm?   In the words of I Can Haz Cheezburger?, DO NOT WANT!  I admit I’m a yoga newbie; I’ve never attended a regular class and have only followed a few dvd sessions but man, this was hard.  One pose involved laying on your back, elbows by your chest and your fists clenched in the air, balancing on your head and elbows whilst you press your chest into the air, and  – wait for it – , lifting your feet fifteen centimetres in the air and flexing them and your head from one side to the other.  It was all I could do not to crumple into a heap on the floor (much to the hilarity of Beepbeep, no doubt) – I managed to hold the pose, but I’ll leave the flexing for next time.  Everything in moderation, yes?