Raymond on More guff about the creative process
When I was a lad, it was quite the thing for people to sing at family gatherings. I had relatives who would regularly ‘do a turn’ and entertain the company with a song or two. At the time, I was too young and self-conscious or, later, too cool for school to appreciate any of this. I didn’t really know much at the time and had a slightly patronising view of folk who could (and would) get up and do a song at parties; it all seemed a bit passé to me.
(read more in comments)
Now that I can usually tell the difference between my arse and a hole in the ground, I know that singing is a fun thing to do and that it is also good for you. I’m sure there have been studies carried out which can prove this scientifically (or at least pseudo-scientifically) but all I can present is anecdotal evidence, carried out by a sample of one, i.e. me. I feel better when I’m singing. I believe that when I’m singing, it’s not just my vocal chords that are being exercised; I believe that I’m taking my soul for a walk.
I wish I had known all this back then; I wish I could have been relaxed and confident enough to join in with all that singing. I get the impression that not as many folk sing at parties these days, although it’s possibly just the case that I don’t get invited to the parties at which people sing (although, come to think of it, I don’t get invited to parties, full stop).
The generation that sang at social gatherings was, in at least one respect, richer than their children and grand-children. They didn’t have the gadgets, the disposable income, the satellite TV or the foreign holidays, but they were familiar with songs that could be sung from start to finish without embarrassment or, indeed, embellishment. And that lack of any need for embellishment was a testament to the quality of the words and melodies of songs that were written to be sung. The wonder of the popular song resides, as Clive James put it, in “the way a colloquial phrase can be multiplied in its energy by how it sits on a row of musical notes.” Some may think these examples a bit cheesy, but old songs like ‘And I love you so’, ‘Spanish Eyes’ or ‘The way we were’ can be sung from start to finish by anyone. The melodies are simple and memorable, the lyrics evocative and universal; these are songs which do not rely on elaborate musical backdrops to sound convincing. Their energy and pathos are, indeed, generated by the skilful placement of colloquial phrases on rows of musical notes. We might not know exactly how this magic works, but when we listen to a piece of recorded music we make an unconscious assessment of at least one (and probably more) of these components: melody, chords, words, rhythm, sound and context. Our unique responses to these stimuli lead us to subjective conclusions about the ‘quality’ of the song.
If it is true that there is not as much unembellished singing going on today, then perhaps it’s the case that there are simply fewer contemporary songs that are fit to be sung (beyond the realms of karaoke). I’d suggest that advances in recording technology have altered the balance between form and content within the popular song, to the extent that the sound of the recording has usurped melody as the defining characteristic. Beyonce’s ‘Crazy in Love’ is a really dynamic piece of music, but it’s not exactly rich in melody. And try singing along with these number one hits without karaoke accompaniment: ‘Professional Widow’ by Tori Amos, ‘Firestarter’ by The Prodigy or ‘Two Tribes’ by Frankie goes to Hollywood.
If the sound of recorded music has improved (and not everyone would agree that it has), has that improvement been matched by improvements in song-writing? I generally don’t listen to chart radio, so I’m not aware of how much rubbish and how much good stuff is around just now, but I’d hazard a guess that it’s more or less the same amount of rubbish and good stuff as has always been in the charts; every era has its share of great songs, good songs, mediocre songs and bad songs. But how can we tell what is rubbish and what is good? Without some objective measurement of quality, all we can really offer is opinion. We know that if a song is popular it must be liked by large numbers of people, but we could all name examples of terrible songs that were big hits and great songs that never made the charts.
Longevity, I’d suggest, is a reasonable indicator of quality.
To take one example, Stevie Wonder’s ‘My Cherie Amour’ was a top ten hit in the UK in August 1969, yet that song is still sung (and is still familiar) in a way that other successful tunes from that era are not. These songs were all in the top ten at the same time: ‘Baby make it soon’ by Marmalade, ‘Early in the morning’ by Vanity Fare, ‘Goodnight Midnight’ by Clodah Rodgers, ‘Wet Dream’ by Maz Romeo, ‘Make me an island’ by Joe Dolan and ‘Conversations’ by Cilla Black. These songs all performed well in the charts, they probably got played many times on the radio and were bought by lots of people, but how many of them would be recognised or sung by anyone today?
(Mind you, looking at that same chart, I’d imagine that lots of folk could probably sing along with ‘Give peace a chance’ by the Plastic Ono Band, despite it being a dreadful song).
Although that chart from 1969 was probably typical with regard to quality, I’d be willing to come off the relativistic fence for a moment to suggest that, if we took an average pop chart from the mid-to-late sixties and compared it to an average pop chart from the 21st century, we’d observe that the popular song is now painted from a somewhat diminished palette. By that, I mean that it has lost some of its rhythmic variation (the 4/4 rhythm now seems more or less ubiquitous), it has fewer chords (and fewer interesting chords; yes, that’s a judgement), the structures have simplified and the subject matter (indeed, the vocabulary of pop) has narrowed. Songs used to be written to be sung, but -with less of a focus on melody and words- it seems that many of them are now made to be listened to. This is partly about who is making music, partly about why they are making it and partly about the tools they use, but it’s also a socio-cultural development and one that someone else should write up for their PhD.
In suggesting that the songs of forty to fifty years ago might have been generally ‘better’ because they had more emphasis on melody, I’m perfectly aware that I’m:
a) Stating an entirely subjective viewpoint
b) Ignoring Paul Simon’s wise words about every generation throwing ‘a hero up the pop charts’
and c) Sounding like an old fart.
But when an old fart claims that such-and-such is a great song because people are still singing it fifty years after it was recorded, he has a point. The fact that people are singing it means something. Lots of modern songs may turn out to be great and timeless pieces, but we don’t yet know if people will be singing them fifty years hence.
All of which leads me to reflect on my own efforts. As well as being limited by ability and imagination, my song-writing efforts are generally filtered through subjective judgement criteria for melody, chords, words, rhythm and sound which were set many years ago, when I listened to music on the radio or on the family record player. In other words, I like my stuff to sound like other stuff that I believe to be good. One of the reasons I’ve been talking about old songs is because the piece I’m linking to below is something of an homage to a certain type of old song, one that I have fond memories of.
I’ve stated in previous instalments of this ‘recording-an-album’ saga that I often find musical inspiration easier to access than lyrical inspiration. I’m more equipped to emulate than innovate, so will often have a particular feel in mind whenever I start composing; this ‘feel’ will sometimes be based on something I’ve heard and admired before. The trick is then to disguise the source material as the piece develops, but in this case I was inclined to be faithful to the germ of the idea. The song started out as a doodle on the piano and I knew, as soon as I stumbled upon the descending chord sequence of the verse, that I was about to write something which would owe a debt of gratitude to The Kinks, (by way of The Beatles and ELO).
Although I could quickly imagine how the recording would sound, I had nothing in the way of lyrical content. As the structure developed, however, it occurred to me that the ambience I wanted to create would best be served by a direct lyric, a ‘story’ as opposed to an impressionistic poem. Once I came up with the title, the story fell into place. The end result -‘Mr McIntosh has left the building’- is about a man experiencing his last day in employment. Having spent all of his working life in the same office job, he reflects upon the speed with which the whole thing seems to have passed him by. I love the sly humour of Ray Davies and the way he creates believable characters to inhabit his evocative urban vignettes. But there is also an undercurrent of melancholy in his work (in ‘Autumn Almanac’, for example) and I wanted my song to have a touch of that.
‘Forty years have come and gone; he’s been there man and boy and now he’ll leave without a fuss to catch that evening omnibus’.
Having decided upon the direction of travel, the deliberate use of the archaic ‘omnibus’ was designed to place the piece in a sixties context, as was the deployment of brass (splendidly played by Dave Webster). In the chorus, the bass sits in E under the first four chords, a device I’m much more likely to use when writing on the piano. It creates a bit of tension, which -in this case- aids the purpose of lyrical exposition.
The character reflects that it ‘seems like two blinks of an eye’ since he started the job; he realises, with a sense of numb bewilderment, that decades of graft have amounted to not very much at all.
‘All the stories he could tell: they could fill a book, but there’s one thing that is guaranteed: no-one else would want to read it’.
I don’t like songs that sneer at the ordinary lives of ordinary folk and I hope that the lyric doesn’t sound like I’ve tried to do that here. The aim was merely to say something about the fleetingness of a life spent in gainful employment and to capture the feelings of a man about to leave work for the last time.
I was talking about the process of song-writing to a friend recently (now you know why I don’t get invited to parties) and he related a lovely quote from Leonard Cohen concerning the elusive and frustrating nature of inspiration. The old boy said: “If I knew where the songs came from, I’d go there more often.”
How that simple observation resonates! I would happily slice off and eat my left arm to be able to write a truly popular song; by that, I mean one that lots of people would like, buy and want to sing along with.
But, if nobody wants to sing along with this song, I’ve cunningly included a bit of whistling on the final chorus. To paraphrase Robert Duvall’s Lieutenant Colonel Kilgore in ‘Apocalypse Now’:
“I love the sound of whistling on a record. There’s nothing like it. It sounds like … victory.”
https://soundcloud.com/raymonds-songs/mr-mcintosh-has-left-the-building
Interesting, thought-provoking article, Ray.
Great song too. beautifully crafted. I particularly like the Harrisonesque electric guitar on the fade out
What a great piece! Persuasive, considered writing, and a bloody lovely song which would have sat happily on a Dukes Of Stratosphear album. No higher praise.
Post O’ The Year. Bravo, Ray.
Yes, lovely writing and a fine song/recording worthy of Neil Innes (or as HP says, Andy Partridge)
The only tiny point I’d disagree with is about Give Peace A Chance being a “dreadful song”.
It’s not a great sounding record, agreed, but that killer hook/chorus has endured (with constantly amended lyrics) as a football ground singalong since 1969, so the song has more than done its job in my estimation.
Ah but. Give Peace A Chance is pretty dreadful. So is Hey Jude, another dreary football ground singalong. There’s a big and crucial difference between the lowing rendition of a chorus hook by a footie crowd and a bunch of people singing a song all the way through. Yes there is.
I suppose you’re right (he said grudgingly). But where does that leave something like Yellow Submarine, seemingly a throwaway (and annoying) fluff piece, yet 50 years later it’s sung in every school in the land?
Going back to Give Peace A Chance, you’ll notice that around halfway through the percussion (actually a wardrobe door being thumped) has echo added, giving it a double beat effect. That’s because Lennon, never a great timekeeper, moved from the on beat to the offbeat (or the other way around) and the only way to save the track from sounding out of time was to doctor that percussion beat.
Point of order: it’s not sung in “every school in the land”. I’d go as far as to say that most kids haven’t ever heard it. If you do GCSE music you’ve probably heard Hey Jude or Blackbird or A Little Help From My Friends, but despite outliers (ie the kids of people who like the Beatles) the Beatles are only important to the general public because their generation insist they are. As @bingo-little once rightly said, this site is the only place I ever hear them discussed, at all.
(I quite like YS: it’s got its own charm, but as always on the AW we’re imbuing the Fabs with a relevance/currency in 2016 that just isn’t there.)
BTW: I don’t know anything about football: is the immensely dreary GPAC really sung in football stadiums? Why?
As in “All we are saying, is give us a goal”
And perhaps I should say every primary school in the land.
Ah – on the first point, I wouldn’t know.
Even with the primary caveat, I’m not sure you’re right there, JC. Once, maybe.
I just asked my eight year old if she knew the song Yellow Submarine. Blank look and a shake of the head, I’m afraid.
A google search will throw up many videos of pre-schoolers singing Yellow Sub, together with references of songs suitable for schoolkids.
I know you’d like it not to be the case Bob, but the Beatles still pervade a big part of our daily lives.
You see their song titles misquoted as newspaper headlines, their album covers are referenced all the time (the Abbey Road cover got a mention on HIGNFY just this week) and I’ve just returned from my local coffee shop where the sugar is served like this:
http://i.imgur.com/txSNfXH.jpg
…I don’t think anyone ever suggested that Lennon/Ono couldn’t write a good slogan…
Was it his, though? I kind of remember it being used before he did …
Good grief
No, it’s a serious question. I don’t know if he coined it or not. What I think I remember (possibly/probably inaccurately) is that it was used by a counterculture type and picked up by Lennon. Can you shed any light on this, Mr Concher?
Apparently, he’d used the phrase in a recent interview and liked the sound of it. Can’t find any earlier instance of it being used.
Oh, and watching the football on TV tonight I was reminded that the Spanish club Villarreal is nicknamed El Submarí Groguet or El Submarino Amarillo (Yellow Submarine) due to their yellow home strip.
Fancy that!
Neither you nor Ian are paying attention.
Tsk.
I’ve forgotten what this was all about.
Wasn’t it some vague claim that the Beatles have had no influence on anything, anywhere, ever and no one knows or cares a fig for them today?
That was more or less the gist of it, I think.
In a “Just Fancy That” moment I turned on Sky News this morning to see that one of the Nigerian schoolgirls kidnapped by the Boko Haram has been found.
The locals were clearly very happy about this, but there are still 200 schoolgirls missing, so a group of NIGERIAN (that’s NIGERIAN) villagers spontaneously began singing:
“All we are saying is bring back our girls”
And then today, after turning on the TV it was only a matter of a few minutes before someone used the phrase “Magical Mystery Tour”.
Maybe so, but it gives the lie to bob’s earlier assertion that “this site is the only place I ever hear (The Beatles) discussed, at all.
Not really, Johnny….where else would we be discussing the slogan on the sugar?
Not sure I quite understand the logic behind claiming The Fabs can no longer claim any cultural import because those in bob and bingo’s self-contained circle of friends do not discuss them. Not one of my very wide circle of friends and acquaintances has ever mentioned the Wu Tang Clan. Like the tree falling in the forest, does that mean they’ve never existed?
This century alone, their ‘1’ collection is now exceeding 40m sales worldwide and a Macca show, even now, attracts an incredibly wide demographic. An Apple insider told me a decade ago that they were now selling significant numbers of albums worldwide to the grandchildren of the original fans. No one is claiming they still retain the incredible impact they had in the ’60s when they were among the most famous people in the world, but it’s equally untrue to claim they are unknown and unheard of among younger generations.
Some good points there Ian.
You see the Fabs continuing importance around us all the time. The Beatles music is added to iTunes or Spotify and it makes worldwide news. Possibly because it’s the most valuable music catalogue in the world?
I don’t have a dog in this fight, JC. I like the Beatles just fine.
But by your rationale, the number of kids wearing Motörhead and Ramones t-shirts should mean that the words to Jailbait and Cretin Hop are seldom far from the lips of the youth. They’re not: those t-shirts are just a cool bit of design, now almost totally removed from the context of their music.
Abbey Road is infinitely more culturally current as a visual reference point / running joke than as a sequence of songs (just as well: it’s not very good as the latter). The examples you suggest above aren’t anything to do with the Beatles’ currency as a musical force: that’s the Beatles as Keep Calm And Carry On postcard: a set of design memes or catchphrases. Next time you’re in your coffee shop, ask a selection of random people to hum the song referenced on the sugar packet. Bet you the majority can’t and that a sizeable minority won’t even know it’s a song.
I think the wishful thinking might be more on your side than mine. Not that it matters: I won’t convince you, and you won’t convince me!
There were some t-shirts (sadly not Afterword t-shirts) in a Bangkok display and I asked some Thais in the shop what they “were about”. Smiling shrugs all round. The images: A Nazi swastika, Che Guevara’s face, and a Beatles logo/silhouette.
All three of those integrated into one image might make for an Afterword t-shirt.
.. In the back of my mind I heard distant feet
Che Guevara and McCartney to ein Nazi march…
Haven’t heard that sung in a football ground in 20 years. Others may have a different experience.
“Seven Nation Army” and “Sloop John B” are the current go-to tunes for chants from what used to be the terrace.
I haven’t been to a game in Britain for several years. Are they still singing Guantanamera – as in “one Stanley Matthews, there’s only one Stanley Matthews”.
That was probably the most widely sung football tune in my day.
“Achy Breaky Heart” has been used quite a bit this season…
Bingo – you clearly haven’t attended any Scotland games. The plaintive cry of ‘give us a goal’ is the constant musical backdrop. Also, just to show how hip we are, the chant of ‘I’d walk a million miles for one of your goals’ is the other perennial favourite, to the tune of Al Jolson’s ‘Mammy’.
Half time at Villarral game tonight – Spanish song being sung to tune of Yellow Submarine. Reminded me that there’s an entire football song (several verses) sung to same tune in Argentia.
Villareal’s club nickname has been “The Yellow Submarine” since the late 60s.
Full disclosure: I have, on several occasions, been party to the massed singing of “We all live in a Perry Groves world”, although I’ve not heard it song for a long while now.
Further footy-related news from tonight’s Man City game. Fans singing to melodies of Hey Jude and My Old Man’s a Dustman heard.
Limp Bizkit and Wu Tang tunes conspicuous by their absence.
Really?
I distinctly heard “Shame On A Linesman”, “Kevin De Bruyne Ain’t Nuthin Ta Fuck With” and “Protect Ya Net”.
In my school – at the end of key stage 3 (RIP), pupils are assessed on their performance of Let It Be – a godawful song even by the Beatles’ standards.
Yup. Let It Be. Another Beatles Bollocks song. They had an amount.
LEAVE LET IT BE ALONE!!!
It’s lovely. Phil Spector spoiled it, that’s all. The Naked version is best.
Ah, The Beatles Argument. Again so soon?
I have never heard GPAC sung at a football ground, ever (since the late Seventies).
I think you just want the Beatles to be relevant JC, but they just aren’t to anyone under forty.
They aren’t very relevant to anyone over sixty, either – more an indication that some shreds of memory still cling on.
And those between 40 and 60 aren’t all that keen either
Come on, Johnny – they weren’t that bad!
*SINGS “MR MOONLIGHT”*
Too late. I’ve gone off them now.
NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! LISTEN!!!!
*WHISTLES “WHY DON’T WE DO IT IN THE ROAD”*
Sorry, it’s the Monkees all the way for me now.
You’re madferrem, you, encha?
Who is Beatles band?
I have a gooey man-crush on those loveable, wacky moptops! Sometimes Paul is my fave; the “cute” one! Sometimes it’s John – the “naughty” one! Sometimes it’s George – the “thinker” of the group! Sometimes it’s Ringo – the “happy” one! Sometimes it’s two or three of them, but then I feel sorry for the Fab I left out, and put his poster back on the wall and give it a big smoochy I-still-love-you kiss! Which is your Fave Fab, readers? It would be exciting to make a list, but maybe also sad because one of the boys would have to be at the bottom. So let’s not do that, then. better to say I LOVE YOU BEATLES!!!
But if I was in the prison shower, it would be Paul, I reckon.
Fess up, HP, it’s another, even wackier moptop whose dreamy poster you smother in kisses every night. Little Davy Jones is the one who makes your heart throb with an unrequited pash.
Here you go HP. Close your eyes and pucker up
http://i627.photobucket.com/albums/tt351/mojoworking01/Afterword/kiss_your_favorite_beatle1.jpg
… that’s left lip-sore balm smears all over my screen.
Those lips in order of kissability:
1. Paul, by a mile
2. Ringo
3. George
4. John
I have to agree MB. John’s lips are very thin and uninviting
Come on, Johnny. There has to be a Monkees ‘Kiss your Favourite’ chart out there. Give HP the chance to add a couple more stains to his old man’s pants.
HP’s “secret place” yesterday
http://i.imgur.com/IJVKIOp.gif
Let’s not fall into the trap – WHOOPS! TOO LATE – of comparing The Monkees as people to the Beatles as people. With the exception of Mike Nesmith, the Monkees were teen actors with some musical background. The Beatles were musicians – two of them brilliant. Also, the Beatles were witty and quick and stylish, and the Monkees – weren’t. But comparing Monkees records to Beatles records – the Monkees had better writers (the pick of the US pop crop), better players (seasoned LA sessioners), better songs, and so made better records.
The problem with that theory is this. The Monkees made slick sounding records handed to them by top drawer professional pop songwriters who wrote pretty-much to a formula.
Meanwhile the Beatles had thrown the rulebook out the window and were re-inventing popular music twice a year on average. No formula, no rules, just genius
… and better-produced, too. Forgot to mention that. Monkees records were a product of the best technologies and skills LA had to offer, which were the best in the world. The Beatles didn’t start to make professional-sounding recordings until their last album. Up until then, they’d been saddled with that seen-us-through-the-war garden-shed radio-ham bean-tin-and-string sound.
The first couple of Beatles LPs were recorded on 2 track and even Sgt Pepper was just two 4 track machines in tandem.
Meanwhile the US had 4 track recording in the 50s and 8 track in 1960
But that doesn’t mean diddly squat if you don’t have the songs. The Beatles had the songs.
I can’t believe you’re still hawking this lame dog of a “Monkees better than Beatles” theory.
That devil’s avocado will be the death of you.
I’m not. But the Monkees records were better than the Beatles records.
As individuals, the Beatles “win”.
As cultural influences, the Beatles “win”.
In terms of historical importance, the Beatles “win”.
As songwriters, I’d say Nesmith is “as good” (but I would say that, wouldn’t I?)
In terms of great records, the Beatles get tough competition from a number of groups and individuals making records, not just the Monkees. Almost anything released on Motown is as good/better than Beatles records. You should really get over your embarrassing swoony crush on the Moptops, this insane belief that they’re the best at everything they did and everyone else is in their shadow and people who don’t agree with you are “in denial”.
At least you admit the Fabs have some historical importance. That’s a step up from the other day when you were claiming they meant nothing to anyone under pensionable age.
That’s all very well, HP (if more than a trifle nutzoid), but what I’d really like to know is which Monkee you’d kiss first?
A lot of subjects of historical importance mean (almost) nothing to (almost) anyone under pensionable age.
I’m not a Beatles-denier about every aspect of their careers, but the scales fell from my eyes about their records some time ago. Great bunch of guys, great times, and I owe them a lot. But their music – the stuff in the grooves – has taken its place alongside, not over, and sometimes under, all the other great music made at the time and since. I have one Beatles album on my iPod. One. And that’s not a snarky statement of denial designed to impress somebody scrolling through my playlists (never happened, never will) it’s because it’s all I want to hear, and that not often.
Your points about the ‘professionalism’ surrounding the Prefab Four are all well and good, but there’s a direct line (Don Kirshner, overseer) between them and the ‘bubblegum’ pap of the late ’60s. All of which I’m sure, if I could be bothered to investigate which I’m not, were written by top-notch writers and played by too-notch sessioneers. Still crap, though.
I probably now read about The Beatles more than I listen to them, for the obvious reason that I’ve heard them gazillions of times and there’s nothing left for me to discover. I have a significant number of their tracks on the restaurant playlists and when I do hear them, I still find them immensely impressive and enjoyable songs, to say the least.
Maybe you haven’t heard it for a while and maybe it’s not as widespread as it once was, but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening. There are plenty of examples on YouTube from recent years, many of them from outside the UK.
You want a worldwide No. 1 single?
You want an anthem to peace?
You want a children’s sing-a-along?
You want a song enjoyed by people in their retirement?
You want a 10 minute montage cut up and pasted back together?
You tailor the song for its specific need/potential audience.
The Beatles REALLY got this.
Of course, The Beatles did have an audience that went beyond male, NME, vegetarian, Labour voters, aged between 15-26 who lived in Britain in 1983.
Great piece, @raymond. And even better song. Nice one. 🙂
Great post, Raymond.
Agree completely about singing at social gatherings. A knees up and a sing song are what it’s all about; music isn’t something cold and dead that needs to be pinned and dissected – it comes alive and is at its absolute best when you sing and/or dance along with it.
Not so sure I agree about the longevity thing, or that you can ever really demonstrate to any satisfactory degree which music is “better” than the rest. Tastes change, people use music for different things.
If we go by the logic that if people still sing a tune decades on it must be great, then the two greatest songs ever written are going to be “For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow” and “Happy Birthday To You” (which I believe remain the two most widely recognised songs on the planet, over a century after their first composition). I don’t see that pair troubling many of our “best of” lists. Likewise, this formula makes “Puff The Magic Dragon” a better song than anything Leonard Cohen ever produced, and I’m not sure when I last heard anyone actually sing “Good Vibrations”. You also risk making “Wonderwall” one of the greatest songs of the last 30 years, and no one wants that.
People use music for different things; to sing, to dance, to laugh, to cry. To sit around and stroke their beards. Better to just enjoy it all for what it is than to worry about where it falls in the pantheon – we’ve already established that nothing is as good as “A Change Is Gonna Come”, anyway ; )
Really enjoyed your song – great stuff.
Stonking piece of prose, convincing, erudite and entertaining. Vis a vis the general argument, is it not the singing of a song that pins it to collective consciousness? So a ghastly football bowdlerisation is just as capable of worming into ear and memory as a party singalonga? I can remember Nice One Cyril and it’s words as well as Ma Cherie Amour, and I don’t like football or Tottenham. And there was more community singing in the past, maybe explaining why I still know the words to all those hymns, nursery rhymes and rugby songs, even when I don’t want to.
Excellent song!
Not quite the Old Grey Whistle Test, but She For Whom I Cook just called from the next room, asking what that song I was playing was, adding that it wasn’t bad.
Memorability can be an indication of crapness as much as greatness. I can remember – to my horror – the words and tune of Two Little Boys. All of it, every wretched beat. I wish I couldn’t, but there it is, like a mental rash that won’t disappear. (I have the original version, on an album by country rock pioneers Hearts & Flowers).
Two little boys had two little toys
Each had a wooden horse
Gaily they played each summer’s day
Warriors both of course
One little chap then had a mishap
Broke off his horse’s head
Wept for his toy then cried with joy
As his young playmate said
Did you think I would leave you CRY-Y-ING
When there’s room on my horse for two (oh sweet jesus help me)
Climb up here Jack and don’t be crying
I can go just as fast with two
When we grow up we’ll both be soldiers (weeping now)
And our horses will not be toys
And I wonder if we’ll remember (WE WON’T BE ABLE TO FUCKING FORGET)
When we were two little boys
Long years passed, war came at last
Bravely they marched away
Cannon roared loud, and in the mad crowd
Wounded and dying lay
Up goes a shout, a horse dashes out
Out from the ranks so blue
Gallops away to where Joe lay
Then came a voice he knew
(SOTTO VOCE) Did you think I would leave you dying
When there’s room on my horse for two
Climb up here Joe, we’ll soon be flying
I can go just as fast with two
(VIBRATO TO 11) Did you say Joe I’m all a-tremble
Perhaps it’s the battle’s noise
But I think that I remember
When we were two little boys
ALLTOGETHERNEAOUWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!
Before the fall of Rolf, people on the original Word site, some of whom still no doubt linger, did actually speak up for this song. Perhaps they still do since we must of course remember to separate the artist from the art. I can’t stand it mainly because I’ve heard it far too often and it’s just too simple, like a nursery rhyme, so it’s inane, but then as a thing for kids it was fine at the time.
I always thought Rolf was a little creepy, like a man out of his time, even before all that unpleasantness happened.
I have no qualms in saying that in 1969 I thought that “Two Little Boys” was an absolute belter of a chooon. But then, I was only four years old.
Last UK No 1 of the 1960s, and first of the ’70s. Not really such a great way to end a decade – or to start the next.
Thank you. Loved that. And I can see why you get such joy out of singing. It must be a fantastic feeling to be able to write something as good as that, and then also to be able to perform it so well.
I don’t think H.P. wrote Two Little Boys, did he?
I actually still think it’s a great song. It has a well plotted story, beautifully constructed, the words scanning like a glove within the musical notes. What’s not to like?
(I don’t recognise some of the asides H.P. documents above. My bad.)
A pedant writes….. Two Little Boys was a music hall song written in 1902.
Popularised by Harry Lauder too.
Thank ‘ee! Rolf truly stands on the shoulders of giants.
Which is a lot easier with three legs.
He’s from the Isle Of Man you know
He went there to get away from the deviants.
Waiiiiidaminit…
That’s a great song, Raymond….and a superb piece. I can certainly relate to the extended family singing with gusto, and me being too shy/diffident/”cool” to join in ( depending on my age at the time). When I joined a band, I could only sing when hiding behind a big guitar….and yet…..I always felt better when I did…..
Great post and an even better song, it’s made my day.
Lovely post, Raymond.
This web page points to some research papers demonstrating the clinical benefits of singing:
http://singfit.com/clinical-research-on-the-benefits-of-singing/
It seems Gareth Malone’s mission to get us all singing in choirs is a quest with a good purpose.
Great feature and a good song.
Also, there were far less songs around in the 50s/60s. It’s much harder now for a song to enter the national collective songbook. The stuff that gets played at weddings is a good indicator of mass acceptance/knowledge.
Pre R&R, songs were shared by non-writing artists. That’s another reason for, let’s say, Moon River as an example, being known by most everyone. If a modern day singer/songwriter had written that it would most likely stay in just their repertoire.
I don’t expect any ups for this but I think there are far too many songs now. It would not bother me if there were no new songs. I can – and do – spend my time digging into the past and I’ve never come close to scarping the barrel.
Good point. Pre-RnR, music popularity was measured by sheet music sales. People only bought sheet music if they wanted to sing the song. What a great system – real interactivity. “Ordinary people” playing and singing music, rather than leaving it to the professionals. What a terrible loss that is. I wonder how much sheet music “today’s pop stars” would sell.
Stupendous and, to put it mildly, thought-provoking post. I look forward to listening to the song when I get some peace and quiet here later.
I think this whole business of singing together varies in many ways from country to country.
For example, often when I watch a concert clip from a Spanish speaking country, I’m amazed at the way that audience know all the lyrics and sing along all the way through. This behaviour would not be appreciated by Afterwordly curmudgeons.
Here’s Cuban singer Silvio Rodriguez getting a lot of help from the audience.
It’s also worth mentioning that the two most popular summer programmes in Sweden (after The Midsummer Murders that is) are live broadcasts from Skansen and Liseberg featuring a mixture of modern pop and a very great deal of community singing. People queue all the day in the hope of getting a good seat.
Here’s Måns Z doing his ESC song.
And while we’re at Skansen, let’s give Zara a listen.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmDKPQs6blU
Thanks for the kind comments, folks. They really are appreciated.
The topic of how and why we decide that something is ‘good’ or ‘bad’ is an interesting one, I think. I’m not sure that anyone has come up with a satisfactory answer; perhaps we don’t need one.
Although it’s always fun to have these conversations, I’m inclined to believe that we should just enjoy the music we’ve got while we’re here. It’s pure guesswork as to which songs will be blessed by posterity. And maybe posterity doesn’t matter.
I heard this song on the radio for the first time the other day. I’m no particular fan of Iggy Pop, but this track spoke to me right away. I was singing the chorus for the rest of the evening and had to go out and buy the album the next day. How does that happen? It’s a beautiful mystery.
Ian – going to reply down here, as the formatting has gone all to hell further up.
Can’t speak for anyone else, but I wouldn’t claim the Beatles have zero cultural relevance and that nobody remembers who they are – to do so would be daft.
It’s simply the case that sometimes I read people talking about them on here; this culture-rogering, globe straddling musical icon that will outlast the very sun, whose songs remain known and whistled by every schoolchild in the land, and then I go back to my day to day life and notice that nobody, not even the music fans or the old folks, ever really seems to ever mention them or reach for a disc.
Obviously, they’re still a massive band and a massive deal. I’m sure they still influence plenty of young musos. But they can’t possibly live up to some of the preposterously daft claims of universality made for them on here. To do so would be frankly impossible.
Finally – and let’s speak frankly here – I should add that my circle of friends is undoubtedly wider and better looking than your circle of friends. So there’s also that.
And I’d always put you down as one of the more sensible ones. Shame. As for attractiveness, I’ll only mention, en passant, that a Miss World had her, increasingly desperate, overtures turned down by me when I was in my youthful glory.
When it comes to The Fabs, I’d never make self-evidently absurd claims that their current popularity is even a tiny fraction of their Beatlemania period, some 50 years ago, but I would argue that, like Elvis, they’re an integral part of the cultural fabric, to coin a cliche.
Ian, you handsome bastard – you never tell us the most important part of that story…. what did she think of the Beatles?
She was more of a reggae woman, being of Caribbean stock. She did, however, acknowledge that Ob La Di Ob La Da had been key to the increased popularity of this musical idiom.
That sounds suspiciously like sweet talk to me.
It was rather sad to see such a beautiful woman reduced to a pitiful state in her vain attempts to endear herself to me.
I get this all the time.
Women claiming Ob La Di increased the popularity of reggae?
While groping around in my off-white Old Man’s Pants.
Strange how this comment seems to have killed off this sub-thread …
I’m reminded of a poem by Gregory Corso, part of which I’d like to reproduce here.
“Because what if I’m 60 years old and not married,
all alone in furnished room with pee stains on my underwear
and everybody else is married! All in the universe married but me!”
Did this reggae woman boogie on?
It’s probably the robot in me, but I’m afraid I can’t get on with this “Joy of singing along” thing at all. For me it’s all about the recording, and I really liked your song Raymond, so thanks for posting.
I particularly like the way your delivery puts the “ominous” into “omnibus”. After all, lots of people come to despise their jobs and skip out the door with a jolly “so long, suckers” upon the day of their retirement, but – true to your “where did the time go?” narrative – Mr McIntosh takes the “om-in-i-bus”.
P.S. One reason the new stuff’s so hard to sing along to in public is all the effin’ and jeffin’. Who wants to hear their Nan singing ” F*** you and f*** her too!”?
I fucking do.
I was at a small civilian gathering recently and the host had a Spotify list of 80s hits that delighted everyone. After a while, the volume went up and the music became the star of the show. A singalong, if you will, broke out.
The male contingent wasn’t expected to join in, because we’re mostly staunch how-about-them-all-blacks types. I noticed an escalation of volume and “ooh! Who did this one??” as the afternoon progressed. I knew all of the songs, not because I liked them, but because I was a teenager in that era and followed the charts avidly.
Noboby likes a smartarse so I feigned a slight, distant, vague knowledge of the songs – despite immediately knowing the titles, the artists and the year of release – and in many cases, all of the words. I couldn’t suppress my enthusiasm, almost audibly singing along to Alphaville’s Big in Japan (that really is a cracking song). Great 80s lyrics too – no one sings about illuminated mannequins anymore.
It felt like this group was having a once-in-blue-moon foray into the world of pop music. Everyone agreed on Bowie being a genius when Let’s Dance came on. Not sure if this would have been the consensus a few months ago. Never mind, I enjoyed the fact that the afternoon/evening involved pop music and that people enjoyed it.
A Beatles playlist would have been a fart-> spacesuit proposition.
Just sayin is all.
Just agreein’ is all.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Those wacky moptops, with their toe-tapping choons that only appeal to the oldsters. Brings back fond memories of my granny and I singing along to Happiness is a Warm Gun. Then, we’d get the comb and paper out for a quick burst of Revolution Number 9. Happy days!
Moose is right. The only receptive audience for a Beatles-only singa-clapalonga will be found in the local Alzheimers ward, where they’ll clap along to the aquarium anyway.
(No – Alzheimers isn’t funny.)
Aquarium? Octopus’s Garden, shirley? ‘I’d like to be…(sings along happily with care home pals)
Just to add, the original comment neither proves nor disproves anything. It only relates to the age group of the people attending. If I were at a gathering with my contemporaries (care home or not), there would be a baffled silence as a godawful steam of ’80s ‘hits’ limped out of the speakers. ‘Big in Japan’, FFS??!
sorry @ianess – I was merely saying that the singalong is still with us.
If you spun her wheelchair around anti-clockwise, did she start going “Turn me on, dead man”?
Raymond, your wonderful post triggered some very fond memories of the earliest recordings I ever made. It was sometime in the late 70s and I’d just got my first radio cassette. My grandparents were fascinated by this new fangled machine, and couldn’t believe that the voices they heard on tape were what they actually sounded like. My grandfather needed little encouragement to launch into his version of One Alone from the Desert Song. Despite the abuse going on in the background, his performances were always memorable. Sadly, I lost those first tapes. I would love to hear his voice again. Listening to this version from Nelson Eddy still gives me goosebumps.
Here’s a song about everyone singing together in the “olden days”
My 8 year old daughter is currently writing a play. It’s her version of the King Arthur tale. The play includes songs. She insists it’s not a musical but a “play with songs”. Which is fair enough. The first song is called “Merlin’s Big Fat Sack”
Behave.
According to her being a wizard Merlin has a sack that’s a cross between Mary Poppins’ Magic Bag and her swimming bag. In it he keeps all his potions, pyjamas and armour. I asked her what the tune for “Merlin’s Big Fat Sack” will sound like and her answer was that she had The Beatles’ Octopus’s Garden in mind crossed with The Lion King’s Hakuna Matata. That said, this morning she was playing The Imperial March from Star Wars on her keyboard so I think the song might still be in development as I write.
I offer all of this to say that my kids “get” The Beatles but they get the immediacy of the music more than anything else. They like that they can play along to a Beatles song and that they can sing along as well and everyone virtually without exception will recognise it. That recognition builds confidence in their ability to perform more complex songs/arrangements.
I think that writing a catchy tune is one of the most underrated skills of any song-writer. I think that writing a catchy tune that is popular with millions of people is mainly down to luck and to the fact that millions already know you for a previous catchy tune you wrote and are willing to accept you can write more than one. No one ever really wrote an unmemorable one-hit wonder but plenty failed to convince people to accept another one. So more kudos to The Beatles for writing so many one-hit wonders.
Lovely story, bisto and conclusive proof, if any were needed, that, contrary to HP’s assertions, The Beatles are truly ‘down with the kids’ of today.
Sheeit, if you’re looking for evidence that the Fantabs are well and truly down with the kids*, then look no further:
*30-something suburban white boys
Oi! Ian! I have always maintained that the Fabs made very jolly clapalong records ideal for children’s parties and Radio 1 Roadshows.
I never got why you thought they were of less value than some other bands just because they “couldn’t rock.” This was the central plank of your thesis, IIRC, on that popular thread what you did a while back.
Couldn’t rock, couldn’t funk, couldn’t country, couldn’t blues, couldn’t soul. Could pastiche. Could clever. Could “give nods to”. Could reference. They were always a bunch of very clever adolescents who never made a single record as honest, direct, and simply “grown up” as (say) Dock Of The Bay.
Could pop though, and in the end that is what really counts. Like all the greatest acts they defied genre. See also Prince (another of your favourites), and Bowie.
Couldn’t rock? The very first track on their very first album is one of the three greatest UK rock songs of the early ’60s. Brilliant versions of Long Tall Sally and Bad Boy later on.
As for Motown, you’ve obviously never seen the Barret Strong interview where he reveals his reaction to their cover of Money. He admitted it was a ‘much tougher’ version than his and he admired it immensely, despite his astonishment that ‘white boys’ had performed it.
“one the three greatest UK rock songs of the early ’60s.”
The others being Cliff’s Move It and Johnny Kidd’s Shakin’ All Over?
Exactly right.
The Beatles were pop and R n R influenced, with a touch of country (mainly Ringo). They were never blues-influenced.
Thank God they didn’t try to be ‘funky’.
To be fair to HP though, The Fabs were crap at free-form jazz.
Similar threads coming soon:
The Applejacks trounce The Rolling Stones
Chicory Tip stick it right up The Mahavishnu Orchestra
Bucks Fizz give the finger to the Grateful Dead
One Direction piss all over Radiohead
Sonnnnnn of McLaughlin
Molded I was folded I was double-necked
Peters and Lee shit on The Velvet Underground
The Osmonds take The Mothers of Invention to the cleaners
“One direction piss all over Radiohead
Peters And Lee shit on The Velvet Underground”
Nah, mate we don’t do those sort of videos. This is a respectable shop.
(*holds hand over mouth, whispers*) Come back in five minutes. I have to lock the shop cos the special stuff is out the back..
The Partridge Family rout Soft Machine
Direct, honest and grown up – In My Life. Things like She’s Leaving Home and Eleanor Rigby are among the most grown-up, wise and mature pop songs you can find, and honest I think – I reckon McCartney was sincere. He looked beyond himself and strived for something truthful and got there. Lennon more adolescent in his ‘I am the centre of the universe approach’ – but in that became the model for the rock approach of meaning it man, for better or worse. Then again there ‘s We Can Work It Out – ‘life is very short and there’s no time for fussing and fighting my friend’. Strawberry Fields? I could go on.
Could rock n’ roll. Couldn’t rock.
What’s the Beatles’ best single IYHO? No, don’t tell me, it’s hypothetical. Put that best single in the context of the great singles released by other acts during their career and it’s in danger of being elbowed out. Here’s an off-the-cuff starter for ten:
River Deep Mountain High
Be My Baby
Dock Of The Bay
Stand By Me
King Midas In Reverse
Mr Tambourine Man (Byrds)
Good Vibrations
California Dreamin’
Reach Out (I’ll Be There)
Unchained Melody
Waterloo Sunset
Itchycoo Park
All Along The Watchtower (Hendrix)
…. und so weiter. No Beatles single is better/greater than any of these (or the others I can’t be arsed to list). What you going to put in amongst that lot? Paperback Writer?
It’s not so much a case of doing the Beatles down, more of bringing the other great records up to where they belong. Growing out of your Beatles Mancrush shows all the great songs from their era to be quite as good – and frequently better – than anything/everything the Beatles did.
But if you’re still in love with them, then I can do nothing for you, nor would I want to. Being in love is a happy place! Enjoy it!
Great singles all. But Strawberry Fields Forever is the equal of all of them and better than many.
SFF was an astonishingly original, ground-breaking single and yet another example of the Beatles moving the pop goalposts for perhaps the second or third time in the same year.
Like it or not, The Beatles are the lingua franca of popular music. They defined the era more completely than anyone else except perhaps Dylan and the Stones. You may have “fallen out of love with them” but that doesn’t diminish their impact, their influence and, yes, their greatness one single, solitary jot.
Overfamiliarity invariably breeds contempt and sometimes I go for months without playing a Fabs record, simply because I know them so well. But when I do I’m always reminded of just how good they were.
SFF is the one I’d choose, too.
“You may have “fallen out of love with them” but that doesn’t diminish their impact, their influence and, yes, their greatness one single, solitary jot.”
I’m not denying them any of that, but as I’m tired of repeating myself, with slight variations, I’m going to duck out of this debate and leave you with your memories of Fabness – long may they last.
All great singles, with a couple of exceptions. What’s your point, though? They were hardly overlooked or unrecognised; most being substantial hits. The Fabs didn’t scarf up all the available disposable income. And, yes, Paperback Writer is superior to several of the songs listed.
“What’s your point, though? They were hardly overlooked or unrecognised; most being substantial hits.”
I give up.
‘living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see..’
Then I saw his bobble-hat. Now I’m a believer.
Well now I’m getting hooked on some of the conversations around here…
A Change Is Gonna Come might be a good one for your list.
I grew up with the Beatles and really like some of their songs…but they don’t give me goosebumps like this one does.
I knew I liked you. Well said.
Mr Roberts. You seem like a nice person. You don’t belong here. Please – just walk away. Don’t look back. If you continue commenting you’ll get sucked in and find yourself unable to leave.
If you do decide to give it a whirl, though, here’s a handy checklist:
The Clique (hidden Illuminati-style group of snarky, untrustworthy, hypocritical, “it’s-all-about-me” posters who regularly boost the comment stats on each others’ pieces):
H. P. Saucecraft (me) – Cult Icon, sexual gymnast
Minibreakfast – secretary, tea lady, does the bins at weekends
Ianess – the Irritable Bowel Syndrome of the blog
Johnny Concheroo – Lonely shut-in, living on memories
Junior Wells – Token Aborigine
Bingo Little – Poster boy, homoerotic appeal
Dogfacedboy – Blog mascot
Gary – Judith Chalmers in drag
Black Celebration – Northern delicacies
Moose the Mooche – Mrs Breakfast’s toyboy
DisappointmentBob – Kilt-bothering popstar swot
Drakeygirl – Vinyl-clad dominatrix
Colin H – Mahavishnu Orchestra groupie
Archie Valparaiso – Millionaire nudist recluse
MC Escher – (Dutch pronunciation: [ˈmʌurɪts kɔrˈneːlɪs ˈɛʃər] ( listen);[1] 17 June 1898 – 27 March 1972) was a Dutch graphic artist who made mathematically inspired woodcuts, lithographs, and mezzotints
Pencilsqueezer: Elderly bagpipe-playing somnambulist and scrimshaw enthusiast
There’s also a bunch of other people I’ve forgotten. Can’t please everyone.
This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me. Or about any of us, probably.
‘Kilt-bothering popstar swots’ – a possible title for the Choir’s next long-player?
Just what I was thinking, @raymond.
Well I haven’t felt this insulted since the last time I went out in public.
You’ve misspelt ‘cult’.
Hah!
I knew there was a clique. And I’m not in it. Hurrah.
Thank you for those kind words, I shall treasure them.
Well there you go! I had no idea that Escher was Dutch!
And now I know who Judith Chalmers is!
See? This is better than wikipedia. [citation needed]
The Monkees had great songs, exemplary production, top musicianship etc….but at the end of the day they were an echo. Without the Fab Four they would never have happened.
Yes or rather no – of course not. But I’m using the Prefab Four to make a point. I could have* used The Mamas & The Papas, The Byrds, The Beach Boys, The Kinks. The Rolling Stones … etcetera.
The Beatles were an event, rather than “just” music. A great big, global, wonderful event. Their music is secondary to that, but because that event was so fantastic (life-changing, really) it’s difficult for some to get their music into perspective.
Anyway, I’m done here. It’s like selling Buddhism in a Tennessee fundamentalist tent on Easter Sunday. Don’t take your Fabs posters down! It’s only pop music, a bit of fun.
(*in fact, have done, at ballsaching length over the interminable years here and at the Auld Place.)
Coming up after the break:
Mozart and Shakespeare – were they really all they were cracked up to be? We find out if anyone over the age of 10 has even heard of them, let alone gives a single solitary shit.
Stay tuned.