February 15, 2008 Earworm

After jumping off the Duran Duran ship before it sailed into the sunrise, and before reinventing the pop in folk pop with The Lilac Time, Stephen Duffy hooked up with Mulligan and Dik Davies (Fashion) and Andy "Stoker" Growcott (Dexy's Midnight Runners Mach 1.5)for roughly eleven minutes of dance pop. Calling themselves Tin Tin, the first single was "Kiss Me", a. The percolating bounce of "Kiss Me" failed to impress the UK audience and the record quickly disappeared. In the US, the adventurous Sire Records picked up the track and watched it slowly take over the country's dance floors.

"Kiss Me" may be a bit repetitious but in the same way that good sex is; knowing just when to break its stride for maximum impact. And it, too, was just as good with or without poppers.

Two years later, Stephen Duffy would re-record "Kiss Me" for UK release and although it became a massive hit, those of us who'd repeatedly spun ourselves around for seven minutes without spilling our drink recognized that, like an ill-advised one night stand expansion, the magic was missing.

check out the video here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wDXV2_eYJJ4&feature=related

February 14, 2008 Earworm

From the skip in the heart drumbeat - an icon in its right - to the spine shivers of the castanets, "Be My Baby" is undoubtedly the candy heart of popular music. Little more than a string of promises not easily lived up to, delivered with an eager innocence that belies Ronnie Spector's reputation as teen lust incarnate, that merely hints at what may come after three kisses. Quivering with the anticipation of that first touch, the electricity of that first kiss, "Be My Baby" perfectly captures the moment when love walks in and anxiously begins to tap its foot while waiting for lust to show up.

The mournful, string laden bridge is the only hint of reality, a reminder that the hunter has yet to capture the game, but it is quickly kicked back into romantic form by a tiny, high heel clad angel, and her posse of starry eyed vixens.

You'd be a fool not to believe.

This is dedicated to the one I love. The one who, when asked, "What's the perfect Valentine's Day song", replied without hesitation, "'Be My Baby'".

Indeed.

February 13, 2008 Earworm

From the taken for granted file, I pull the undervalued "Cherish" by The Association. A quick survey confirmed my suspicion that is wimpy treacle that is quickly turned off the when it comes on the radio and, to be honest, I agreed for quite a few years, tossing it into a box of childhood treasures I'd outgrown. But, having listened to it repeatedly on my twenty minute drive to and then from the office, I realize that I was wrong.

The arrangements, both vocal and instrumental, on "Cherish" are absolutely stunning. For starters, there's the vocal "bom bom" thing that merges so well with the real bells that, at times, you can't tell where one ends and the other begins. The vocals, progressively stacked, grow from languid choir boy to doo-wop to underscore the mounting desperation of the lyric. And what a lyric it is. So romantic in thought and so lushly delivered that it's easy to forget that, while this may be a love song, the love is unrequited. Clearly it is a case of idle worship that is confirmed by the frantic banging of those bells during the final go at the chorus as a wall of suitors sing out to be heard amongst the crowd.

Of course, there's also that despondent, trembling guitar that closes the show and the sneaky little voice that sneaks in a lone "I need you" about 1:51 in the proceedings. That's Curt Boetcher at his best.

Give it a fresh listen but be advised that the mono mix is the best choice: as is so often the case with elaborate tracks from the sixties, the whole thing seems on the verge of caving in when experienced in stereo.

Move beyond that underwhelming "Greatest Hits" package with "Just The Right Sound: The Association Anthology"

February 12, 2008 Earworm

Tip-toeing into the room, trying not to pop, it all proves to be too much - and the sax is gonna spill it anyway - so Carolyn Gill lets out a "Hey yeah yeah" and tells us the news. So begins The Velvelettes' "He Was Really Sayin' Somethin'".

Bursting with youthful energy and teenage lust, it is as exciting as a good gossip session, which it sort of is what with two separate background vocals going on by the time that it is finished. Like Dorothy Berry's "Crying On My Pillow", the teeny-bopper lyric is somewhat at odds with the maturity of Carolyn Gill's voice yet it all works as you can't hope that you get to feel this excited sometime.

Bop bop shoobydoowah!

"He Was Really Sayin' Somethin'" is available on The Complete Motown Singles: 1964 and, more affordably, on "The Best of The Velvelettes"

February 11, 2008 Earworm

Watching the Grammy Awards last night, I began to think that Amy Winehouse was going to sweep but I still had concerns about that Album of the Year nod. Would Kanye West's entitlement issues get mixed with sympathy for a win or would the Foo Fighters come up for an underdog grasp at the prize. I hadn't even considered Herbie Hancock's tribute to Joni Mitchell, "The River" because it had been years since a jazz album had won. Forty-three years, to be exact, as Mr Hancock graciously reminded us during his acceptance speech. Go figure.

I'd already spent the day with a healthy dose of Joni Mitchell, unaware of both Hancock's album and its nomination. As a child, I'd considered Mitchell's music "old" but as I got older, I realized that her music wasn't "old", but that I was too young to appreciate it. Settling down with a man with a best friend who idolized Joni, I began to experience her in a different way; paying attention enough to recognize Joni's impact on the musicians who made records that I loved.

"Help Me" was Mitchell's only top ten single, her brush with pop stardom in 1974, and I, being a child of top forty and avid forty-five buyer, bought a copy that was rarely played because it scared me a little. It didn't play by the rules and the way she crammed so many words into the bridge made me nervous, concerned that someone was chasing her. Then there was that whole thing about dancing with lady with a hole in her stocking that made no sense to me.

Now, of course, I recognize the rush of romance in that bridge and the seemingly minor detail of a lady with a hole in her stocking is just that sort of random imagery, a poetic sophistication that kept Joni from pop stardom. Not playing by the rules has left her with the a "musician's musician" tag that, while honorable, gets tiresome, as the lady herself has noted. Still, it must be nice to be an icon. Even if you have to wait for the world to catch up with you.

"Help Me" is available on "Court and Spark" and the humorously titled "Hits".

To recap

Photographer Christy Bush discusses her "Soundtrack To Nothing", now showing at The Opal Gallery