Today's song mixes music with alcohol and an extremely laidback vibe. Those elements make it the perfect seasonal song.
("Which season?", I hear you ask. Why, the season ending in "er" of course. Boom! Boom!)
That's enough of the bad jokes, Peter. Let's try that again:
This combination of music, alcohol, and laidbackiness may cause you to celebrate ("Hooray! Booze in a Song of the day! Finally!") but it makes me woozy and I can't think straight. Don't get me wrong – I like today's song, it's just that whenever I listen to it I feel as drunk as they sound. The band were not terribly concerned with anything at all during the recording of it, such is its effectiveness in conjuring up thoughts of lazing on a beach with a specific drink in hand.
When this song was suggested to me*, I pooh-poohed the idea of presenting it, thinking "Nah, I don't like it that much." Although I hadn't heard the song in years, I didn't need to play it again to remind myself what it sounded like because it was a song I was very familiar with. So I went to sleep that night, safe in the knowledge that I wasn't going to inflict this song on anyone because I had remembered it not being that great. (I have a policy: If I don't like a song, it ain't gonna play it for ya.)
However, when I woke up the next morning the song was stuck in my head. And it stayed there all day.
So I thought to myself: it can get stuck in my head all day, it can get stuck in your head, too. (It's only fair...)
Without much further ado ('cause there's certainly been more than enough ado already), here for your imbibing pleasure is the Ted Mulry Gang and their ode to doing nothing at all (and enjoying it immensely), "Jamaica Rum":
I've been wanting to let you know about J-popper Ai Otsuka for ages, but have been constantly distracted by my quest to fill your ears with Antipodean power pop.
Everything about Ai Otsuka is adorable (or unbearable, depending on your perspective). First of all, she's impossibly cute. And she's a qualified kindergarten teacher, so, if her music career hits the skids she can follow her non-musical dream and go back to teaching little kiddies (awww). Even her name, "Ai," means "love" (awwwww).
I tell you, Ai Otsuka is so adorable that I'm ready to adopt her at the drop of a hat.
By the way, her songs are actually hers (i.e., she writes 'em all). Ms Otsuka doesn't have a team of songwriters coming up with formulaic pop to appease a tween audience. Ai Otsuka is cute and talented.
I won't pester you with too many of her songs, just enough to give you an idea of why I like her music.
So, if you're game, let's listen to some Ai Otsuka...
The songs:
01. "Pretty Voice"
"Pretty Voice" is the opening track of her debut album, Love Punch (2004). Did I say that Ai Otsuka was cute? Here's the cover of Love Punch:
If you were looking for anything cuter, I think you'd have to find some photos of kittens cuddling ducklings.
Anyway, "Pretty Voice" lets you know straight away that Ai Otsuka is a pop girl who's full of beans (or, judging by the album cover, full of jelly beans). One thing I love about "Pretty Voice" is the banjo. Yes, there's a banjo in this song – and it's hyperactive. How many pop songs, Japanese or otherwise, can you think of that have a hyperactive banjo in it?
02. "Superman" Superman (スーパーマン) by Ai Otsuka (大塚 愛) on Grooveshark
"Superman" is built around a nice rocky riff and contains some unusual English narration. It's the kind of English that's led people to coin the term 'Engrish'. I love Engrish (and so does this person) in its innocent mangling of the English language. For example, there could be a greatest hits compilation by an artist but instead of being called something like Greatest Hits or The Best Of..., it'll be called Super Happy Fun Best Ever. I love that.
03. "Peach" Peach by Ai Otsuka (大塚 愛) on Grooveshark
"Peach" was the theme song to Hanazakari no Kimitachi e (more popularly – and helpfully – known as Hana Kimi), a Japanese comedy/drama TV series in 12 episodes about love found, love lost, and love refound amongst high schoolers. It's the standard boy-meets-girl scenario, but Japanese-style – which means that as well as the romance there's also a pile of comedic characters and situations. (I think in the West it'd be called a 'dramedy'. Ugh.) "Peach" played at the start of each episode and, because I watched – and enjoyed – all 12 episodes of the show with our resident 18-year-old Japanese expert (Hi, Celeste!), I have "Peach" firmly lodged in my brain.
04. "Pon Pon" Pon Pon (ポンポン) by Ai Otsuka (大塚 愛) on Grooveshark
"Pon Pon" is manic. This is a song that you would definitely not want to try singing at your next Karaoke session.
05. "Girly" Girly by Ai Otsuka (大塚 愛) on Grooveshark
A nice little pop song that's fun, fun, fun.
06. "Happy Days" Happy Days by Ai Otsuka (大塚 愛) on Grooveshark
I must warn you that you may not like this song anywhere near as much as I do. There are a few things in it that have the potential to put you off – for example, in the chorus there is what sounds like a choir of chipmunks all singing the phrase "happy days," and accompanying those chipmunks are frequent shouts of "Hnnh!" which sound like what could be described as 'James Brown-lite'. But it has a magnificent guitar riff, and Ai Otsuka at her chirpiest. I don't know exactly your tastes in music, pop artists, fashion, etc but... how can you not love this?:
07. "Sakuranbo" Sakuranbo (さくらんぼ; Cherries) by Ai Otsuka (大塚 愛) on Grooveshark
A boppy little ditty about cherries. Apparently, Ai Otsuka loves singing about food. Apart from "Peach" which you've already met (it was Track 03), she's written songs with titles such as "Strawberry Jam," "Mackerel's canned food," "Cooking 3 minute Ramen," and even "Salty Grilled Tongue of Black Cow 735 Yen". And her first three albums are called Love Punch, Love Jam, and Love Cook. Now I'm starting to get hungry...
08. "Ishikawa Osaka Yuukou Jouyaku" Ishikawa Osaka Yuukou Jouyaku (石川大阪友好条約; Ishikawa Osaka Friendship Treaty) by Ai Otsuka (大塚 愛) on Grooveshark
"Ishikawa Osaka Yuukou Jouyaku" ("Ishikawa Osaka Friendship Treaty") is an enjoyable – or tremendously annoying – singalong.
09. "Smily" SMILY by ?'?Z? on Grooveshark
"Smily" is possibly the happiest song ever recorded. I think that, no matter what the language, "Smily" is a supreme piece of pure pop (it has some of the greatest hooks in any pop song of the last ten years). This song was the moment when I realised how much I wanted to adopt Ai Otsuka. And when I first saw this video, I wanted to hop on the next plane to Japan immediately:
10. "Amaenbo" Amaenbo (甘えんぼ; Spoiled Child) by Ai Otsuka (大塚 愛) on Grooveshark
"Amaenbo" ("Spoiled child") is the penultimate track on Ai Otsuka's debut album, Love Punch. The melody in the chorus makes me think it could be a ballad version of that album's opening track "Pretty Voice" (which was Track 01 on this little journey through the Wonderful World Of Ai). Regardless, it's a nice ballad, and with some lovely falsetto at the 3:01 mark.
And there you have it. That was a (very selective) selection of Ai Otsuka songs. I hope you enjoyed at least a bit of some of those songs.
Although I have no trouble whatsoever playing (and enjoying) these songs, I understand that there's a distinct possibility that you've turned up your musical nose at the very thought of going anywhere near them. Fair enough. Each to their own and all that. I certainly wouldn't want to force you to listen to any of it, just I wouldn't want you to force me to listen to that Venezuelan Death Metal band you like.
Rest assured, we'll resume normal power pop duties tomorrow. Until then, I think I'll listen to a little more Ai Otsuka...
Here's the Zoot with "Monty And Me", a groovy little ditty from 1969 sounding very much of its time (think hippies, beads, bells, incense, and very long hair):
I like how that catchy tune is repeated relentlessly until resistance becomes useless. That tune's going in your head whether you want it to or not.
Incidentally, this is the very same Zoot that would discard those beads, bells, and incense just one year later to crank up the amps for their heavy-duty riff-a-rama version of "Eleanor Rigby" (which, I'm happy to say, was Song of the daya few weeks ago).
In honour of one of the weirdest (but not in a good way) TV movies ever released, here's one of the weirdest (but in a very good way) pop songs ever released. This song is still so far ahead of its time:
Q: Do you want to play another song by The Wellingtons? A: Yes. Q: Has it been at least a week since you last played a song by The Wellingtons? A: Yes. Q: But aren't you running the risk of boring people to tears by playing another song by The Wellingtons? A: You bet. Q: Are you still determined to play a song by The Wellingtons? A: Yep. Q: Aren't you sick of mentioning The Wellingtons? A: Nope.
If you've been reading this blog for a while you may have come to the conclusion that The Wellingtons have only ever made one album (2008's Heading North For The Winter), such has been my relentless plugging of it. The band actually recorded two albums before that: Keeping Up With The Wellingtons (2005); and For Friends In Faraway Places (2007).
I'm here to correct this skewed view of the world where there's only Wellingtons album in it. What kind of world would that be? (Well, I guess if you hate The Wellingtons, the answer would be: "a happier world." But I don't hate The Wellingtons. No, sir. So I'm rather pleased there's more than one Wellingtons album in it.)
From The Wellingtons' second album, For Friends In Faraway Places, here's "If We Feel OK" (2007):
By the way, for today's Song of the day I was having trouble deciding between two tracks – the rockin'* "If We Feel OK" (see above) or the equally rockin'* "Singer In A Cover Band." But then I had a brainwave:
"Bonus track!"
So, as a bonus here are The Wellingtons with "Singer In A Cover Band" (2007):
I don't know what it is with Australian bands and slightly psychedelic songs – maybe it's now a legal requirement that an Australian band to have at least one slightly psychedelic song on each album. (Please refer to recent Songs of the day by Grand Atlantic and The Finkers). Well, Even went one up on all the other bands with their self-titled fifth album from 2008: every song on the album is slightly psychedelic. Maybe chief songwriter Ashley Naylor had been listening to a few American psychedelic rock compilations – or discovered peyote. Whatever the reason, Ashley sings about things like "golden days" and "velvet skies," and not wanting to get "tangled up" in a woman's "power lines." (Huh?) The album is all a bit psychedelic, a bit American, a bit garage-y. It is enjoyable, though.
When I was growing up, I'd always thought that this was an original but, as with a lot of songs I grew up listening to, it's not. This was originally written and performed by Chuck Berry. Chuck Berry! The Father Of All Rock Songs! Why didn't I know that? Why?? Talk about ignorance. And to think that every time I listened to the song as a young nipper I never even bothered to look at the songwriting credits. I mean, it's right there on the label:
(Some music expert I'm turning out to be...)
Anyway, here's the original, which I have to admit I don't like anywhere near as much as the more boogified version by The La De Da's:
By the way, tomorrow I'll try to play you something recorded much more recently (say in the last five years), because I've only just noticed that lately I've been pummelling you with songs that are so last century...
With regard to the lyrics, I don't know that everything Jeff touched turned to tears. If it did, he would have had an awkward time with all sorts of activities, even mundane ones like having a meal (he'd end up drinking it), or reading a book (can you read liquid?). But I guess that Jeff meant matters of the heart (i.e., with women). Poor Jeff. Can you imagine Jeff dating a girl, and the unfortunate consequences due to his affliction? ("Here, darling, let me get that for you. Oops, sorry...")
Apart from the physiological difficulties associated with the concept, I find "Everything I Touch Turns To Tears" intriguing. To me, this sounds like a song that's supposed to be sung by a woman, not a man. It sounds like one of those classic torch songs from the Swingin' Sixties that were written for someone like Dusty Springfield or Cilla Black or Petula Clark to sing so those performers could vocally lament over their lack of success in love. (The songs were usually written by men, which I find more than a little disturbing.) I like to call those kind of songs "Big Songs" because of the epic emotions involved, or possibly "Big Songs for Women." Unfortunately, the disadvantage of calling them "Big Songs for Women" is the potential for the phrase to be misread as "Songs for Big Women" which is something entirely different (i.e., an opera aria back in the day when sopranos were encouraged to be large'n'loud). I guess it makes sense to leave it called a "Torch Song" – it saves confusion (unless somebody is thinking of the kind of torches that need batteries).
Anyway, I listen to Jeff warbling away and I think to myself: "Shouldn't a woman be singing this song?"
But I'm glad Jeff is singing it. He sings in a nice, gentle, non-Tom Jones way. (I can imagine Tom Jones in front of an audience, belting out this song and pushing back the first few rows of listeners with the power of his voice). Although Jeff's singing is admirably gently, that gentleness doesn't always help. For example, there's a rather unusual attempt at falsetto at 2:47.
If you're looking for a woman to sing this song (and I certainly was), I discovered that Cilla Black gave it the Torch Song treatment that I was hoping for. Take it away, Cilla...
Cilla Black - "Everything I Touch Turns To Tears" (1966) Link
That's more like it.
I also discovered that plenty of other artists have tackled this song, although for the life of me I can't understand why. I don't think it's a terribly spectacular – or even memorable – song, but singers just can't seem to stay away from it.
(And here I am, becoming more and more fascinated by it. Oh, the irony!)
Here's another girl version of "Everything I Touch Turns To Tears." This time it's by Scottish singer Barry St. John (girl singer, boy name), who sings it Torch-style, à la Cilla, but with a great soul backing (think Motown):
I found plenty of other versions, too, but they're pretty unremarkable so I'll spare you them.
However, of all the vocal performances I did find, the strangest one of all – male or female – comes from Irish showband singer Brendan Bowyer with backing from The Royal Showband, Waterford:
After trawling through a mountain of different recordings of this song, it seems like every version was recorded in 1966*. It may not have been a golden year in the history of recorded music, but 1966 certainly was a golden year for "Everything I Touch Turns To Tears."
(*Except for today's Song of the day artist Jeff Phillips, the only Australian to record it. Everyone else: 1966.)
(Thanks to Col for suggesting the song. Look what you started...)
Although this song was a bonus track in an earlier post, I recently heard it again by chance and thought to myself, "Wow, this song's too good to be stuck at the end of another post! This is Song of day material!"
And so...
To be rescued from the depths of another post, here's Russell Morris with the magnificently splendid (or splendidly magnificent – take your pick) "Sweet, Sweet Love" (1971):
"Sweet, Sweet Love" is superb songcraft, pure and simple. There's so much that's great about this song to me that it's hard to know where to begin. First of all, I think it's amazingly well-constructed. It's divided into distinct sections, each better than the last, and each co-existing quite nicely as part of the whole. Then there are the tunes in those sections, with each tune improving on the previous one. (When it finally reaches the chorus, multicoloured fireworks go off in my brain.) Plus the melodies are perfect for the lyrics (and vice versa). And then there's the funky section (at the 2:37 mark) that has nothing to do with the rest of the song. I love that. (Maybe it's there to give you a break from the rest of the song, which would make it one more example of great song construction: don't let your listeners get bored.)
To me, "Sweet, Sweet Love" is a Great, Great Song. Thanks, Russell, for writing and recording it.
The very first time I heard "The Pie" in 1972 it lodged in my brain and has never left. There's something about it – I don't know what – that makes it incredibly special to me. It could be the little Badfinger-esque hooks played on the acoustic guitars, or Iain Sutherland's voice, or even the overall feel of the song. Whatever it is, it's one of those songs – I'm sure you have them – that casts an intangible, indefinable spell on you, and no matter what mood you're in, whenever you hear it you're transported to a specific place.
Here are The Finkers with "Daphne Green," a jolly little ditty with the rather unusual – but highly enjoyable – mix of power pop, psychedelia, and nursery rhyme:
Danny Diaz and The Checkmates were a band from Hong Kong that was formed by three brothers from The Philippines and their brother-in-law. Their first hit was "It's So Easy," a song written and performed by English, Scottish, and Dutch migrants living in Australia.
Now, that's what I call cosmopolitan.
The thing I love about the cover version is how Danny and co. bring out all the Mersey Beat-ness that wasn't readily apparent in the original. It makes for a wonderful little piece of sub-Beatles grooviness. Here's the original:
Incidentally, "The Star" was written by Johnny Young, an entertainer very well known to most Australians in the 70's and 80's for invading the living rooms of virtually every Australia home every Saturday night for years with an incredibly wholesome television program entitled Young Talent Time which Johnny created and hosted. This show was responsible for nurturing the careers of scores of youngsters – and it was all due to Johnny Young. Before Young Talent Time, however, Johnny had a successful dual career as a songwriter and solo entertainer. But nowadays Johnny is most fondly remembered for Young Talent Time. As a songwriter, though, he'll go down in Australian rock music history for writing "The Real Thing" (which was Song of the day a little while ago).
Back to "The Star." Johnny never recorded it, but someone other than Ross did...
As a bonus, here's the almost-as-good-except-for-the-dreadful-singing version by Herman's Hermits:
Update: This post originally had Ross' last name spelled with one 'l'. I've been assured by my friend Col that Ross' last name is spelled with two 'l's, not one as most places on the Internet have it. Here, at least, "Ross D. Wylie" is now Ross D. Wyllie. Col told me about how he remembered television interviews with Ross way back when, and how Ross complained that people frequently mispelled his last name, even in print. (And now, I dare say, on the Internet...). Sorry, Ross.
(Thanks also to Col for reminding me about "The Star" in the first place, after I'd inexcusably forgotten about it for years.)
Yesterday's Song of the day was Tracey Ullman's cover of Kirsty MacColl's "They Don't Know" so I thought I'd continue the Kirsty connection. Here's Kirsty with a cover of Billy Bragg's "A New England," one of my favourite songs from the 80's:
"They Don't Know" is a great, great pastiche/homage to the girl groups of the 60's, and I love how the harmonies build and build in the last verse until they end up louder than the main vocal. Fabulous.
I know I played you a Matt Finish song from their new album Fade Away Sessions just the other day but, like a moth to the flame, I'm drawn inexorably towards the album again and again. As a result, I'm going to inflict my predilection upon you one more time.
Here's one of the album's bonus tracks that wasn't on the original Fade Away EP. Turn it up:
The Wellingtons (yes, I know I've mentioned them way too much already) will be holding an official album launch for Heading North For The Winter tomorrow night at the Northcote Social Club in Richmond, Victoria.
Be there or not be there*, baby.
By the way, feel free to ignore this friendly message if you're:
a) someone who doesn't live in Richmond, Victoria; b) someone who doesn't live in Victoria, Australia; or c) someone who doesn't live in Australia (i.e. a foreign devil).
In honour of the band pestering the public with a live'n'loud version of Heading North For The Winter (and me pestering you with yet another post about The Wellingtons), here's a track from the album:
(*Sorry to get all Zen on you there. However, it does remind me of one of my favourite jokes... Q: How many Zen buddists does it take to change a light bulb? A: Two – one to change the light bulb, and one not to change the light bulb.)
Here's Grand Atlantic with "Used To Be The Sensitive Type" (2009), a song that wouldn't be out of place on a compilation of late-60's psychedelic rock:
"Used To Be The Sensitive Type" appears on Grand Atlantic's sophomore* album, How We Survive (2009). It's an unusual modern rock album – unusual in the sense that it has variety (not every song sounds the same) and it doesn't outstay its welcome (it has 11 tracks, which is remarkably restrained compared to a lot of other rock albums that try to fill themselves up with way too many tracks of dubious merit – Sloan, I'm looking at you...). And it's also nice to hear a modern rock band writing and playing rock songs with, you know, tunes. Oh, and the album also features an electric sitar. Bonus!
(*Being Australian, for years and years I had no idea what the word "sophomore" meant. As a young whippersnapper**, I kept seeing it in American music magazines, but it was only a few years ago when I found out that "sophomore" means "second." I'm all for increasing one's vocabulary and expanding the English language and all that, but what's wrong with saying "second"?)
(**Is there such as thing as an old whippersnapper?)
Matt Finish, one of my favourite Australian bands of the 80's ever, has finally transferred on to CD its phenomenally good 1981 live EP, Fade Away, which is cause for great rejoicing (well, in this household anway). And, what's more, in addition to the five songs on the original EP the self-financed CD release – now called Fade Away Sessions – has a pile of extra rehearsal tracks recorded at the same time. I bought it direct from the band (they're an eBay seller). Even at full price it was a bargain.
To celebrate the CD release – and to give me an excuse to play you a Matt Finish track – here's the EP's sole instrumental number (when you've got a great track, and the band's firing on all cylinders, who needs words?):
I was wondering why an Australian band was singing about an American state when I discovered that it was a cover. The original is by The 5th Dimension (why didn't I know that?), and this is precisely what it sounds like:
Incidentally, here's another Australian version of the song:
Redtime - "California My Way" (1971)
(*I find it slightly weird that they're called 'The Iguana'. Why not 'The Iguanas'? Why just one? And why is it "The Iguana" instead of "An Iguana"? Was there a particular iguana the band was thinking of when they named themselves? Did one of the members have a pet iguana? And if so, why didn't they name the band after the name of the pet iguana? Despite all of those unanswered questions, I keep thinking the band's name is supposed to be plural, and have to constantly resist the urge to type "The Iguanas" every time I see it. This is because, since the dawn of time, bands have tended to give themselves names, however silly, in the plural. As a tiny Australian example, there were "The Allniters," "The Allusions," "The Atlantics," etc – and that's just the 'A's. Even a band name I made up once, "Ugly Rick's 92-piece Jazz Detonators," was plural. That came from a fictitious band history I once wrote to go with a demo tape our band had made. Our band was real, but the history I wrote for each member was entirely un-real. I'd written that the drummer, before he joined our band, used to be in the Jazz Detonators. Well, why not?)
If you're not familiar with Fountains Of Wayne, you won't get the joke, but for the rest of us it's hilarious.
Although Robbie doesn't rip into any particular FoW song (he does, however, sing at one point that "I can turn my muddy water into sweet Mexican wine..."), I'd say that "Hotline"'s point of reference would be these two ditties (both from Welcome Interstate Managers):
I know that there are literally gazillions (literally) of boogie songs out there on CD, vinyl, cassette, 8-track (ask your parents) and MP3, but there's something about "Good Morning Mr Rock 'N' Roll" that makes it just a little bit more boppy, enlivening and enjoyable for me than thousands of other similar boogie songs. I think it's the flute.
Why that track? I haven't listened to that band in ages, and there are plenty of other, arguably better, songs in the band's ouvre – but it was "Guillotine Day" that made its reappearance in me noggin. Ah, the mysteries of human existence...
It's a good thing that I love pretty much everything this band did*, otherwise I'd be less than pleased to present "Guillotine Day" to you. As it is, I'm more than pleased.
(*I've mentioned it before, but if you like Australian power pop I think you need to have this band's first three albums in your collection. Yes, allthree.)
The word 'awesome' has recently been used to describe anything enjoyable, impressive, astonishing, startling, amazing etc, and it's now being used so often that I've come to realise that it has lost all its meaning. And 'awesome' is still being used with alarming frequency – even more often nowadays.
Everything is now awesome. What did you think of that song? It was awesome. What about the guitar solo? Awesome. What about the singer? He's awesome. That new car is awesome. How was your meal? Awesome. I like your shoes – they're awesome. Ad infinitum.
As far as I'm aware, 'awesome' is supposed to mean "that which inspires awe." To me, automobiles are not awesome. Food is not awesome (and never has been). Neither is a pair of shoes. People who sing are not awesome.