What Are You Listening To?

[JeromeD]

Today's pick - brilliant piece. https://youtu.be/MqRoSjzzATE

[CRAZY-HORSE]

Today's pick - brilliant piece. https://youtu.be/MqRoSjzzATE

absolutely fabulous song!
still gets lots of airplay here on the radio stations

[JeromeD]

Today's pick - two of them in fact. Both sung by one of the finest voices in music.
This is how you write lyrics boys and girls.

https://youtu.be/lbQt02_jiXY

And of course this one - just listen to that choir and orchestration. Awesome!

https://youtu.be/z2nMFYBnPG4

[JeromeD]

What a concert - real musicians - https://youtu.be/WSDRnXBjeR4

[CRAZY-HORSE]

WINGS  "wings at the speed of sound"  vinyl/cd  1976

their fifth, Macca's seventh post Beatle outing though...
despite containing the two multi million selling singles "let 'em in" and "silly love songs" this has always been a huge disappointment for me...
album contains eleven tracks, five of which were written and sung by the other band members and for the most part these and Paul's tunes are well below par...
album has always been one of those albums albums i dread coming out of the pile to play and from this listen i cant say i will be looking forward to the next listen...
I DO NOT LIKE THIS ALBUM

not my favourite track as that belongs to "let 'em in" but this one just held my attention this time round...
written and sung by lead guitarist Jimmy McCulloch






Doctor Tom is getting on,
All he does is sign his name.
I get things my brainbox sings,
but I'll go down again.

Play with fire, getting higher,
Higher than a nine foot flame.
My soul is pent and so's the rent,
but I'll go down again.

Wino Junko can't say no,
Wino Junko, eyes aglow.
Pill freak, spring a leak, you can't say no
till you go down again

This and treat you crazy cat,
Flying sideways once again.
I'm in a spin it makes me grin,
but I'll go down again.

Wino Junko can't say no,
Wino Junko, eyes aglow.
Pill freak, spring a leak, you can't say no
till you go down again.

Till you go down again.
Till you go down again.
Till you go down.

Take what I need until I bleed,
People will say I've gone insane.
Ain't scared to die, it's such a high,
till I go down again.

Wino Junko can't say no,
Wino Junko, eyes aglow.
Pill freak, spring a leak, you can't say no,
Till you go down again.

Wino Junko....

[CRAZY-HORSE]

GERRY RAFFERTY  "on a wing & a prayer"  cd,  1992.

his seventh solo album...
listened to this one several times over the last few days when in the car...
a collaboration between Rafferty and ex-Stealers Wheel friend Joe Egan...
some of these tracks are new renditions of Stealers' tracks whilst others are newly formed tracks by the both of them...
ive got to ashamedly admit that my knowledge of that band is almost non-existent so i dont really know which tracks are originals or covers...
lots of soft rock on here and the album has an almost Chris Rea feel in places, hints of De Burgh in others...
a fairly decent album IMO with nothing to dislike and plenty to absorb...
I LIKE THIS ALBUM

favourite so far:

[CRAZY-HORSE]

LEON RUSSELL  "carny" cd, 1972

a revisit...
his third...
a huge influence on a young Reggie Dwight...
has a bit of a Dr.John thing happening in places...
strange that a piano dude has so many songs on an album that arent piano based.
some country-esque sounds here, lightly psychedelic also ...
love just about every track on here, liking the remainder...
I LOVE THIS ALBUM

favourite:






Janie was my first love
We shared the pains of school
She offered me a balance for awhile
And she gave me innocents
I seemed like less a fool
She always had a line to make me smile
But we separated early
Not an easy thing too do
Sometime seem tomorrow'd never come
But we couldn't keep together
For all the times we tried
We had a sad reunion tonight

CHORUS: 
Oh how we laughed together
Trapped in the grapes of wrath together
Yes and we loved each other
Me and Baby Jane
But now she's gone forever
Lord help me stay together
See her vacant eyes and a needle in a vain
Oh baby, baby, Baby Jane

I see the purple mountains
I'm lost and inbetween
a place that I know well and in a bad dream
Others stand beside me too late to try and find
Exscuses in the face of being blind
But now she is awaiting for the feeling of the cold
To free her from the nightmare of old
She was a part of me silently alone
And too far down to draw the line

REPEAT CHORUS:

[Ruby]

NEIL DIAMOND - Jonathan Livingstone Seagull



It's a habit of mine to listen to this around year end - not sure why, maybe it's to do with promise and hope. I know CH dislikes the album but I love it - and the book, for that matter. 

[Ruby]

STRAWBS - Ghosts



Classic Strawbs - one of their core albums, IMHO. There was that theory about artists/bands not having more than five really good albums in them - the rest being fluff - in this instance I think it holds true. Again, there will be exceptions, but thinking about it, not too many! 

My pick ... 

[CRAZY-HORSE]

JETHRO TULL  "minstrel in the gallery" cd, 1975

another re-visit...
their eighth of twenty-one (with one on the way)...
i usually say that "heavy horses" or "songs from the wood" are my favourites by them but this album just continues to grow in stature for me every time i hear it...
to me it is the album that encompasses everything i expect from JT with rock, folk and strings (sometimes al in one track)...
brilliant album IMO
I LOVE THIS ALBUM

favourite, the 16 minute epic...





Windy bus-stop. Click. Shop-window. Heel.
Shady gentleman. Fly-button. Feel.
In the underpass, the blind man stands.
With cold flute hands.
Symphony match-seller, breath out of time.
You can call me on another line.
Indian restaurants that curry my brain.
Newspaper warriors changing the names they advertise from the station stand.
With cold print hands.
Symphony word-player, I'll be your headline.
If you catch me another time.

Didn't make her
with my Baker Street Ruse.
Couldn't shake her
with my Baker Street Bruise.
Like to take her
but I'm just a Baker Street Muse.

Ale-spew, puddle-brew
boys, throw it up clean.
Coke and Bacardi colours them green.
From the typing pool goes the mini-skirted princess with great finesse.
Fertile earth-mother, your burial mound is fifty feet down in the Baker Street underground. (What the hell!)
Walking down the gutter thinking,
"How the hell am I today?"
Well, I didn't really ask you but thanks all the same.

[Pygmy And The Whore]

"Big bottled Fraulein, put your weight on me," said the Pygmy And The Whore,
desperate for more in his assault upon the mountain.
Little man, his youth a fountain.
Overdrafted and still counting.
Vernacular, verbose; an attempt at getting close to where he came from.
In the doorway of the stars, between Blandford Street and Mars;
Proposition, deal. Flying button feel. Testicle testing.
Wallet ever-bulging. Dressed to the left, divulging the wrinkles of his years.
Wedding-bell induced fears.
Shedding bell-end tears in the pocket of her resistance.
International assistance flowing generous and full to his never-ready tool.
Pulls his eyes over her wool.
And he shudders as he comes.
And my rudder slowly turns me into the Marylebone Road.

[Crash-Barrier Waltzer]

And here slip I
dragging one foot in the gutter
in the midnight echo of the shop that sells cheap radios.
And there sits she
no bed, no bread, no butter
on a double yellow line
where she can park anytime.
Old Lady Grey; crash-barrier waltzer
some only son's mother. Baker Street casualty.
Oh, Mr. Policeman
blue shirt ballet master.
Feet in sticking plaster
move the old lady on.
Strange pas-de-deux
his Romeo to her Juliet.
Her sleeping draught, his poisoned regret.
No drunken bums allowed to sleep here in the crowded emptiness.
Oh officer, let me send her to a cheap hotel
I'll pay the bill and make her well - like hell you bloody will!
No do-good over kill. We must teach them to be still more independent.

[Mother England Reverie]

I have no time for Time Magazine or Rolling Stone.
I have no wish for wishing wells or wishing bones.
I have no house in the country I have no motor car.
And if you think I'm joking, then I'm just a one-line joker in a public bar.
And it seems there's no-body left for tennis; and I'm a one-band-man.
And I want no Top Twenty funeral or a hundred grand.
There was a little boy stood on a burning log,
rubbing his hands with glee. He said, "Oh Mother England,
did you light my smile; or did you light this fire under me?
One day I'll be a minstrel in the gallery.
And paint you a picture of the queen.
And if sometimes I sing to a cynical degree
it's just the nonsense that it seems."

So I drift down through the Baker Street valley,
in my steep-sided un-reality.
And when all is said and all is done
I couldn't wish for a better one.
It's a real-life ripe dead certainty
that I'm just a Baker Street Muse.

Talking to the gutter-stinking, winking in the same old way.
I tried to catch my eye but I looked the other way.

Indian restaurants that curry my brain
newspaper warriors changing the names they advertise from the station stand.
Circumcised with cold print hands.

Windy bus-stop. Click. Shop-window. Heel.
Shady gentleman. Fly-button. Feel.
In the underpass, the blind man stands.
With cold flute hands.
Symphony match-seller, breath out of time
you can call me on another line.

Didn't make her
with my Baker Street Ruse.
Couldn't shake her
with my Baker Street Bruise.
Like to take her
but I'm just a Baker Street Muse.