Etta James (25th Jan 1938 – 20th Jan 2012)

I'd already posted when I heard the news on Friday: but in any case this belongs better here today. 

What a voice.

RIP.

Etta James - 'A Sunday Kind Of Love' (1961)

The Smiling Hour

A smooth little number like this may be all I'm up to ce soir.

I was kindly invited by an old friend to a 'function' last night and am feeling rather delicate today. Also my leg hurts from where I twisted my ankle and knee and fell on the dancefloor, and my pride, from being at one point forcibly ejected from the venue by a very large security man (it was a 'misunderstanding'; he let me back in). I am getting too old for such japery.

Gretchen Parlato is very 'happening' in 'jazz circles' 'Stateside'. I found out about her thanks to NPR Music and their very good list of the best jazz albums of 2011.

I may rouse myself for a Guinness later on.

Gretchen Parlato - 'Skylark' (2005)

Reasons To Be Cheerful - # 6

In Stargazing Live Brian Cox explains that there are more than 350 billion galaxies in the visible universe. On Radio 4 Extra they're re-running the radio recordings of 'Whatever Happened To The Likely Lads' from 1975. Since the summer when our dishwasher died Desert Island Disc downloads from a thirty year archive have helped me scrub the pans with brio. Danny Baker has me laughing out loud in the car in a traffic jam on the Upper Richmond Road in the pissing rain, on my own.

Sherlock set Twitter on fire.

And John Peel's in my iTunes (and my head).

My reason to be cheerful # 6 is, gawd bless it, the bloody, bloody beautiful BBC.

Round The Horne - 'Backroom Boys Of The BBC: Personnel'  (1965)

The Smiling Hour

*tries positive drinking*

Reasons To Be Cheerful - # 5

We've lived in this house for 17 years now. It's longer than I've lived in any other place. When we moved here we were an unmarried couple with one witch's cat, no kids and no furniture: we spent our first night under a duvet on the floor in an empty bedroom.

Since then we've done the usual things families do - knocked down walls and slapped up paint - but the single best thing we ever did was take the whitewashed brick hole beneath the blocked up old chimney and turn it back into a real fireplace again.

The house came alive.

We had coal fires in our front and back rooms when I was little (and no central heating) - a real coal bunker behind the house that the coalman filled every week, great logs too sometimes that probably came from the woods - I don't remember anyone ever buying them.

The smell of coal-tar on sharp cold days was the scent (with St Bruno ready-rubbed in the old man's pipe) of my childhood.

So the fire here connected Back, but was also about Now and what we were making here: it said This Is Home; and Let's Not Go Out Tonight, There's A Fire; and Pour Yourself A Whisky DavyH And Watch The Flames. Watching the flames dance like I'd do at my grandad's while the grown-ups blethered on about the government and the cost of living and the Capitalists.

Watching our twelve year old daughter lying on her front last week with her head resting in her hands watching the flames dance while the grown-ups blethered on about the government and the cost of living and the Capitalists.

Logs cracking down.

Scott Walker - 'Angels Of Ashes' (1969)

Reasons To Be Cheerful - # 4

Serendipity.

An example, today:

I hear a terrific (old) record for the first time on an (old) Desert Island Discs from the archive I'm trawling and search the web to see if I can find it.

Excellent! It's been uploaded by a blogger!
Amazing! It's one of us! (and I missed it at the time!)

Even better! It was three years ago, but the file's still live!

*sigh*

The record - Dory Previn's 'The Lady With The Braid'

The Desert Island Discs - Jarvis Cocker's.

The blogger - Beth at Lonesome Music.

Thank you BBC archive, thank you Jarvis, thank you lovely Beth x

Dory Previn - 'The Lady With The Braid' (1971)

Reasons To Be Cheerful - # 3

Unexpected smiles from strangers. Rare as hens' teeth in a big city, where the default mode is the avoidance of eye contact and intently scrolling your smartphone on the train is the human equivalent of a cat stopping to wash itself in the middle of the room (it makes you look Important and Purposeful when you're really just at a loss for something to do). But, lucky me, last week I received two - one in the supermarket (fruit & veg) and one, even less expectedly, on a busy station platform as the 07:39 disgorged its passengers into the morning rush - and both brightened my day out of all proportion to the simplicity of the act itself.

Did the smile-givers have any inkling of how that bold moment of breaking through the invisible but tacitly consensual wall between us would make me feel better for the rest of day?

Or were they just amused by my funny little face?

Well thank you smile-givers, either way: I promise to be less Britishly buttoned-up and to Give as well as Receive in the dark and drizzly winter weeks ahead.

Dusty Springfield - 'Just One Smile' (1967)

Robert Dickey (2nd Sept 1939 - 29th Dec 2011)

Until today when I read the news in, of all places, the freebie newspaper on the train, I honestly couldn't have told you who Robert Lee Dickey was.

But I sure knew 'Bobby Purify' - from wonderful records like 'I'm Your Puppet' and this further, splendid Reason To Be Cheerful...

James & Bobby Purify - 'Shake A Tail Feather' (1967)

A stomper for your Friday.

May he RIP.

Reasons To Be Cheerful - # 2

Buses. Big red London double-deckers, please. Here's me aged about 3 with one you could literally sit on the top of. You might think it doesn't get much better than that, and you'd be right - it didn't.

I love double-decker buses. I always have. From the green (!) ones I used to get in Devon (aged 6!) from right in front of that house in the picture down the hill to the town and my school, to the ones at college that ferried me to and fro' Saaf East London and The Strand (the last of the real old Routemasters - yellow curvy roofs with the soft tungsten lights and the tartan seats, smoking upstairs and a bubble of chat - '68 bus our battle cry, 68 bus will never die', oh how we laughed) to the n-n-n-n-night buses that got us home from Trafalgar Square or The Goose & Firkin at Elephant And Castle all singing and japery and (sorry) occasionally vomit and the ones now that get me and my girlies to the shops and Portobello and me through town for work whilst crazy people choke on the tube or to my mate's in Wimbledon and back when he says 'Get a cab' and I laugh, laugh, laugh at his folly.

I think that one of the best places in the world you can be is at the very front (left-hand side) at the top of a double decker bus with the world moving past you below and other people's silly, annoying, inconsequential, banal, hilarious, fascinating and quirky chat all around you (no-one talks on the tube) or, if it really is too annoying - or quiet - your iPo on and groovy sounds shuffling a soundtrack.

Here's to buses.

*ting ting*

The Who - 'Magic Bus' (1968)

Reasons To Be Cheerful - # 1

So, January.

A depressing month, as I'm sure we can all agree. And it's looking especially depressing for me since I am self-employed and have chuff-all work in the diary; this after a December in which paid employ was also, as is traditional in the run-up to Christmas, thin on the ground.

So it was that yesterday, contemplating these and other weighty matters, I fell to making a sandwich using the tiddly bit of leftover cooked salmon I'd salvaged from the girlies' tea the night before and stuck in the fridge

Buttered the bread. Spread - nay flaked - the salmon on top. Ground some pepper.
And then thought - ooh, mayonnaise...  

Mayonnaise!

God I love mayonnaise.

Mayonnaise on the sandwich = a transformation effected.

Mayonnaise is A Reason To Be Cheerful.

Mayonnaise is the sort of thing you need to Get You Through Jan.
 
So - a 'series' ! Oh lawdy!

With music I expect, yes - and lots of other things besides. Probably. I mean, we'll have to see how it goes.

The small things that keep you going.

My 'reality-altering' January thing.

Starting with mayonnaise.

Ian Dury & The Blockheads - 'Reasons To Be Cheerful, Pt.3' (1979)

Diddy's Disco

When we were lads, the pub that was the nursery of our drinking, just next to the school, threw a disco every New Year's Eve. The DJ was Diddy Dave the barman, a diminutive Lancastrian who had played the pubs and clubs of the North West in his youth and would consequently sometimes scatter a couple of northern soul classics in amongst the better known Tamla Motowns, Town Called Malices and Come On Eileens of our requesting. The Weather Girls 'It's Raining Men' I recall was a particular favourite of his - and no, 'he never married'. That dance floor in the public bar by the jukebox where the pool table usually sat was truly one of the greatest of my life, all spilt beer and sweat and hormones and cheap perfume on the girls from school done up to their nines. At midnight you were licensed to kiss every single one of them on the lips and they didn't even mind. Never such paradise again.

Now New Year's Eves are, as I have related here before, cosy indoors affairs that came as a mighty relief after so many over-priced nights in chocker London pubs with vomit and violence and hung-upness at best always just round the corner, in our difficult twenties, in our insecure thirties, and not a cab to be found gone midnight.

So - I've done another booze shop. And Mrs H's bezzie is joining us, which'll be nice. And the girlies will want to stay up too, now they're bigger.

Meanwhile Diddy Dave, I'd wager - long-since retired - will be playing cards at Hookhills Community Centre, then home for an early night.

This one's for him.

HNY to you all.

The Weather Girls - 'It's Raining Men' (1982)

Finally, From Clarence

No man is a failure who has friends

Merry Christmas, lovely people x

Yeah Baby

I'm a bit late, sorry.  I've been watching Local Hero on the telly; *sigh* but I love love love that film. Candles lit, feet curled at the foot of the sofa with Mrs H sat at the end; a beer, well, perhaps two. Much needed after a week of spending money I do not have and stoking up debt for a cold January.

Oh lift us 'Retha, lift us, lift us - don't let me be the Grinch.

Traditional Ghost post.

From Ronco - The Perfect Christmas Gift x

Aretha Franklin - 'Kissing By The Mistletoe' (1961)

'Alma'

Here's a spooky little tale for Christmas that me and my girlies loved when we first saw it last year.

They're about to make a full length version, but I can't believe it'll top this.

August Christmas

Heard this for the first time just three days ago.

Mind, I can't listen to him without thinking of the Radio One Roadshow, Torre Abbey Meadows, Torquay 1982: when Mike Read Mike Read 275-285 opened proceedings with 'Stool Pigeon'.

It's not a very Christmassy memory, I'll grant ye.

I'm stumbling from a pub lunch to a nice-parents-from-the-school Christmas social drinkies tonight, so wish me well - I will almost certainly (inadvertedly) swear and make inappropriate remarks, much to Mrs H's chagrin.

August Darnell - 'Christmas On Riverside Drive' (1981)

Christmas Jones

Righteous!

And thanks to Ye Anciente Vinyl District competition and the splendid people at Daptone Records I have this on 7" single.

I must have been a very good boy that year.

Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings - 'Ain't No Chimneys In The Projects' (2009)

Yule Love

"He's behind you!"

Those of you who don't 'do' Twitter (and I wish you would, we'd have such fun) may have missed my link to this ace recent interview with Darlene Love.

Meanwhile, written by Ellie Greenwich, Jeff Barry & Phil Spector here is possibly The Greatest Christmas Pop Record Of All Time...

Darlene Love - 'Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)' (1963)

The Smiling Hour

You know if silence was golden
You couldn't raise a dime

Mose Allison - 'Your Mind Is On Vacation' (1976)

Dobie Gray (26 July 1940 - 6th December 2011)

High Tide

Don't ya think the best thing about this is the way it starts just like the original before the stutter-crash! of Portishead's entrance at 0.12?

In a mostly dull week of darkening days that dragged, one of a few get-me-through Radio Moments was hearing this late Wednesday night on Claire Anderson's Late Lounge.

Drink news: I was forced to crack the emergency Guinness before the school quiz last night, so I'm imbibing a London Pride prior to a proper sit down with Senor Pinot in a bit. He sends hugs.

Paul Weller - 'Wild Wood (The Sheared Wood remix)' (1994)

Spread Your Tiny Wings And Fly Away

This time last year a great belt of snow was sweeping south across Britain and even London was in for a good dusting. November 2011 it seems will bow out in more traditional drizzle and gloom.

Have your parents musical tastes left a lasting legacy on you? These people think so (thanks Simon for pointing me at the piece). Tim Jonze's bit in particular leapt out at me because I have that very Country Classics record he mentions and I like that he called Anne Murray's 'Snowbird' a 'beautiful song', because it is.

It was written by the Canadian singer-songwriter Gene MacLellan, the rest of whose oeuvre I'm afraid has passed me by.

We shouldn't let its 70s Radio 2 JY Prog playlist associations blind us to its brilliance.

I'd love to hear Richard Hawley have a go at it.

See ya then, November.

Anne Murray - 'Snowbird' (1970)

Equally Cursed And Blessed

This is good.

I like it.

Bit frosty.

Swede poppy.

And continued evidence of the all-pervasive influence of 'Be My Baby' by The Ronettes (the unassailably positioned, number one best pop record of all time, ever).

I am grateful to my good friend Dr. Al for bringing it to my attention on a CD he made for me back in April (ah Spring, when hope was ours).

I shall need something warming tonight; that chill's got in me bones.

Lykke Li - 'Sadness Is A Blessing' (2011)

Cute, In A Stupid Ass Way

Well look, this has all been very nice but I really must get on.

Here's Jacques Brel (difficult, bohemian, Belgian) via Scott W. fantasising about what it'd be like to be a proper pop star.

English lyrics by Mort Shuman, who knew a thing or two about popular music himself.

Marvellous.

Scott Walker - 'Jackie' (1967)

The 10 Best Pop Records Of All Time

The more assiduous amongst you may have noticed the germ of this in comments over at Drew's not long since.

Specifically, a Mr 'JC' asked 'wouldn't it be great to get an old-fashioned arguement going....not on the internet but down the pub.....just what are the ten most perfect pop songs????'

Last night I met, for the first time, a fellow blogger - a person who, until now, I have only known through these internets. The very surface of reality did not, it seems, fracture - though judging by how it feels this morning, my skull possibly did.

We have resolved this burning issue for you.

On a crappy piece of notepaper (see above) from Drew's capacious bag (I do not know what else was in there - maybe JC), the two of us fuelled by the elation of meeting and quite a few pints of London Pride, we agreed The List.

Clearly, there were Guidelines:

1. Pop records - not country, or rock, or soul, or swing or dance or easy listening; Pop (we'll save the debate about what 'Pop' is until next time. Though can I just say? I think we all know)

2. Big and famous and, er, Popular.  Pop is not 'obscure'. We all know 'lost pop gems'. For the most part these are adored by a few thousand people. They are wonderful, life-enhancing and special. They are probably some of the best records ever made. They are not in this list.

3. We had to agree. Unless both of us approved a record, it could not make the list.

4. Nothing Scottish (this was just to wind up JC. Only kidding.)

Here, then, are the 10 Best Pop Records Of All Time.

1. The Ronettes - 'Be My Baby'

The unassailably positioned, number one best pop record of all time, ever.

The rest are, as they say, In No Particular Order...

2. The Beach Boys - 'God Only Knows'

OK, it is kind of, to do it an injustice, a 'ballad'. But it must be on this list. You may take it for granted you've heard it so much. Just listen to it again. Loud.

3. Blondie - 'Heart Of Glass'

Some debate over whether this was actually 'disco'. Debate short-lived. Clearly this is pop.

4. The Shangri-Las - 'Leader Of The Pack'

Universally acknowledged by everyone we mentioned it to in the pub (well, Harriet and Tom the nice young couple on the next table anyway).

5. Isley Brothers - 'This Old Heart Of Mine'
 
6. Dionne Warwick - 'Walk On By'

7. Jackson 5 - 'I Want You Back'

8. The Monkees - 'I'm A Believer'

Neil Diamond!

9. ABBA - 'Waterloo'

We agreed ABBA were the greatest pop group of the 1970s. Some debate over which song to go for. Agreed our favourites were all ballads, therefore inappropriate. Couldn't think of a poppier one than this.

10. The La's - 'There She Goes'

or possibly

10. Madonna - 'Like A Prayer'


I wanted a Beatles song. Or 'Wichita Lineman'. Or Billy Fury. Drew vetoed them. I'm really not sure The La's deserve to be in such illustrious company. Possibly Madonna does. Harriet and Tom on the next table thought we should have 'something more modern'. Maybe number 10 should be left blank 'for your own choices'. Also, by this stage it was Drew's round. Again.

-------

Anyway, I'm sure you're all pleased we've done this because obviously it'll save you ever having to have this discussion again.

You're welcome.

Full Circles

I restored this to myself today, an album I borrowed and taped from a ramshackle amateur 'record library' kept in a cupboard in a student hall in an old building in another lifetime, when I was just 18.

Back then I played it to bits; still have the C90 (Billie Holiday on the 'B' side - one sad winter Sunday as she sang 'All of me/Why not have all of me?' I told a girl, smugly, 'Ah, but you can't, can you?'. Sheesh).

Going forward by looking back; and there's sweet old music in other places too that's new to me.

The Jim Hall Trio - 'Circles' (1981).

Royale With Cheese

Double O groovy!

Herb Alpert - 'Casino Royale' (1971)

Newport Up

That kind of thick drizzle that clings has come in over SW London tonight.

I'm a bit no-time this-time this week: just enough to pop this up for you. From Newport '56 - "the greatest performance of [Ellington's] career... It stood for everything that jazz had been and could be."

A davyh vinyl rip at 320kbps.

Gee baby, ain't I good to you.

Duke Ellington - 'Newport Jazz Festival Suite: Part 2 - Blues To Be There' (1956)

The Smiling Hour

Set 'em up pally.

Sammy Davis Jr. - 'Ain't That A Kick In The Head?' (1960)

Bouncing With Bud

I've been computerising more vinyl - the sound on this Blue Note LP!

And this track?

Amazing.

Explodes a grey day.

Max Roach on drums.

Bud Powell - 'Un Poco Loco' (1951)

Reel Life (Just Around The Corner)

Have you dropped in on Press Play & Record yet? Its kind hearted, pseudonymous, author has been uploading entire NME mail-order cassettes from the 1980s, with full tracklistings and artwork (see above) throughout October.

I've loved being reunited with, amongst many others, The Mighty Reel, Straight No Chaser, Pocket Jukebox and The Tape With No Name all of which at some point I had, or knew, or tape-to-taped, or cribbed tracks from, but have since lost.

I've been reminded of many lost gems, as well as of the wonderful Peel-like eclecticism the magazine embraced in those distant, glory days.

Pay a visit, you must.

---

Inspired by hearing again the speedy alt. version of this* that opens The Mighty Reel, I dug out my LP of Imperial Bedroom for the potato-roasting slot on Sunday; hadn't played it in years.

*Vinyl rip, contains crackles.

[Thanks to ally for the original site tip-off]