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The chronicles of Ruin, continued. Call me Ishmael said....intelligence is knowing what to do when you don't know what to do. Anonymous said... When I don't know what to do,I come here. 10 September 2009 22:59
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14 comments:
Can you please stop all that, Mr Ishmael, for kindness sake?
Alas, I spent far too long among the motorbiking, heavy metal lads and lasses. Status Quo? Thin Lizzy? Deep... Away with them all. How Maddy can deprave herself so is beyond reason. It's like your grannie getting pissed and snogging the grocer's delivery boy. Perhaps though more fun for you than a screeching harpie and certainly cheerier than our recent topics.
Gerry (kneecaps you don't really need 'em) Fucking Adams I only wish you were joking but I know your not. Main stream media now, what next a chat show? What were once vices are now habits?
It's not me, worshipping all these sopranos.
And anyway, this is great,better than Steeleye Span, who were largely pub rockers with a fiddle. The original, 19th c version of the song is a plaintive thing, lamenting a girl's transportation to far Australia, that never woulda made the charts. eh?
I already told you, mr m, you should acquaint yourself with the McGs, especially the first, eponymous, Kate & Anna, album, its not all on YouTube, so you'll have to send one of the mongeese out to buy it, FatherMongoose Day is a-coming, fol-de-rol and well-a-day.
That was an album title, wasn't it, What Once were Vices....?
"What Were Once Vices Are Now Habits"
Doobie brothers.
And The Quo are the tightest band on the planet, just listen to the breaks.
It is easy enough, Mr Rightwinggit, to be the tightest band in the universe when you only have one song and it only has two chords. "Have we played it backwards, yet? Let's do that." Ye Gods, the years of my life wasted listening to the fucking Quo. But each to his own, eh?
All Around..., Mr Ishmael, all but did for me. 75 was it? Or earlier, maybe it was. A welcome distraction however from the Bay City Rollers, the bastard offspring of the savage union of Jimmy Shand and Andy Stewart.
I broadly agree with Mr RWG, whilst agreeing with Mr mongoose, too; they are tight and it is simple but sometimes those simple things are hard to maintain, the temptation to break out must be huge, I don't think many pop musicians, aside from McCartney, play what is, to all intents and purposes, a tribute to who they were forty years ago, SQ manage to do that, decade after decade, not disappointing their fans.
And I do like this version of Hat, Rossi's harmonising is spot-on and the whole thing seems more energetic than the original, by Steeleye Span.
Yes the Doobie Brothers, great title, never heard the album, though.
The closest we get to Andy Stewart and Jimmy Shand is Maestro Thompson's Don't sit on my Jimmy Shands Don't sit on my Jimmy Shands, they don't mend with sticky tape and glue, Don't sit on my Jimmy Shands, Don't sit on my Jimmy Shand's, that's my very best advice to you. Complete with mad polka-ing accordions, It's very good.
The gigantic, chilly precision of Dave Gilmour's Pink Floyd approaches SQ's adherence to exactitude over improvisation, but even he allows his finger to vibrate for a nanosecond longer or shorter than on the record, not much though.
Forget the music, what is with that illegal pony tail? Thankfully Mr Rossi has at last done the decent thing
It shames me to say, Ms Lilith, that I used to have a similarly illegal apology hanging down my back. In my case, a pigtail. This was in my post-punk Carol King phase. God knows what sort of prat I looked like. Used to mince around college in a pair of scarlet boots too.
Dear Mr Mongoose. The illegality is in the greyness and thinness on top combined with the rat's tail. There is a certain age and stage beyond which hair should be cut or a serious style crime is committed. That Arsenal goalie, whatsis name took it to the limit. So your ponytail, unattractive as it might have been, would not have been illegal :-)If a man wants to keep his long grey hair, let him at least have a full head of it remaining, and never, never put it in a pony tail.
Willie Nelson understands this and wears plaits.
And a hat.
A hat! An elegant solution, Ms Lilith. The falling out of hair, eh? A tricky business.
I was having my hair cut one day by my usual lady. She seemed to be pausing in an odd way. Eventually she managed to transmit - almost without speaking it - that the days of having a viable parting were passing and that there was a Bobby Charlton road to be travelled or a Face The Music road. It's falling out, man, just comb it back neatly and keep it tolerably short.
I buzz over Elby's pate with a small mowing machine every coupla months. Stops him looking like a balding Einstein :-)
I am sure that he merits such kindness, madam.
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