Tuesday, 8 February 2011

MONGOOSE SONG. Frank Ifield - She Taught Me To Yodel

On tomorrow's Mongoose song: I Remember You, another of Frank's smash hits, from waybackwhen, here on RadioIshmael, where we're doin' ruin with you, through the night.


Deputy Attorney-General Agatha said...

Now that's what I call music, Mr Ishmael.

mongoose said...

That may be funny, Agatha, but it's not kind. I am disappointed in you both but am just grateful that the Lord has left us with Lee Marvin.

mongoose said...

Some proper music for you. To the greater glory of Globalism.

call me ishmael said...

That's very nice, the choral piece, despite what the uber-critics say at youThing. Frank Ifield, though, has/had his own, special gift. I do declare that I think my mother would've left home for him. Or Slim Whitman. Yes, it's very nice.

mongoose said...

Since when did we entertain what critics say or think?

I am somewhat disconcerted by the notion that Slim may be Frank's dad.

Mike said...

Mr I: Frank could certainly yodel, and was brought up near Sydney.
Your mum would have been in the queue with my mum, then.

call me ishmael said...

"Since when did we entertain what critics say or think? "

Well, only inasmuch as I didn't know what a decrescendo is but now I do or at least I think I do and could probably fool enough of the populace, which, at the end of the day, is clearly the bottom line and what it's all about, IMOH, LOL, and so on.

I think Frank is a more aagreeable Aussie export, mr mike, than Kylie or Germaine or the unspeakable Mr Clive James and while, on the face of it, that's not saying very much, I did, as a child, enjoy his enthusiastic yodelling and his cleancut, Housewives' Choice personality. I wonder if it's time for a yodelling Renaissance, perhaps Mr Robbie Williams might lead it, or maybe that horrible whining git from ColdPlay could yodel-away his blues. Mr George Michaelopoulous, the celebrity cottager, has, I understand, time on his hands, to learn yodelling, as long as, like so many celebrity convicts do, he hasn't found Jesus - although Jesus, I suspect, would think he was a cunt, I certainly do.

mongoose said...

Life is too short, Mr I, for learning all that musical notation crap. Fit only for filling in crosswords anyway.

lilith said...


Woman on a Raft said...

Here's a story which could only happen in the internet age.

One of the Ifield clips is from a 1982 concert.

Frank Ifield and Barbary Coast at Wembley Country festival 1982.

John Roche on Steel Sho bud pro lll Guitar, Robbo Robinson playing guitar, John Malony bass, Barry Fletcher keyboards, Cosy Dixon drums Ann and Ray Brett, Rollie Wolstenhome backing vocals

Suddenly a commentator pipes up:

Wow. That's my mum and dad on backing vocals. I sang at this as well with my mum and dad's family band. I was only 7 yrs old.

The uploader replies:

Hi I must know you. My name is John Roche, your Dad will know me. I put the videos up for people like yourself to see what we got up to way back then, happy days.


call me ishmael said...

"Life is too short, Mr I, for learning all that musical notation crap."

That's true if you only wanna listen and dance and toetap, but it helps if you want to play, or even discuss music, rather,I guess, like engineering, you can wing it, busk, vamp along, or you can learn it properly. Sad to relate, I'm a busker, me, at most things. Like Guitar George, i know all the chords, but that's about it.

It is, indeed, a cyberphneomenon, mrs WOAR, at which Mr ptb has hinted before now, the odd Fellowship of the Net. On the Paul Brady track the other night, Crazy Dreams, at youtube was a comment saying That's my late uncle, there, playing keyboards on that. I could've put my fingers against the glass and bowed my head and cried.

mongoose said...

Well, I cannot play a penny whistle worth a damn. Is that cause or effect? If I had have been able perhaps I may have made a pretty noise.

Busking is just informality, Mr Ishmael. We use our brains as best and as honourably as we are able given our learning. On the engineering front, demolition is about dynamic loads and I have investigated dynamic loads for us all and 9/11 looks ever more dodgy.


call me ishmael said...

Oh, I wish I could write you ay melody so plain....Busking isn't just informality, busking is doing it all wrong in hopes that no-one will notice, and often they don't, and are happy - witness the legions of grateful Deadheads, unperturbed by Maestro Garcia's often bumbling fingerwork, consumed, rather by the moment, by the feel of the thing - but what use is that? We used to, did we not, grunt at one another, it was ok, but it wasn't the Sermon on the Mount, Grey's Elegy or the Ryme of the Ancient Mariner.

Take up a ukelele, for your soul, mr mongoose. They are cheap and easy and charming. I will read the nine eleven stuff.

mongoose said...

I cannot play anything worth a damn, Mr Ishmael. It is sad but there it is. I am a man of constant sorrow. So musical skill - if skill is the right word - is a stranger to me and I recognise it but seldom. Perhaps on God's golden shore I'll be better blessed. OTOH a mate is moving house soon and has a spare piano. Why would I not?

Madly, the boy plays the ukelele at school. I foresee a Tiny Tim 15 mins of fame future for him on The X Factor 2020.

The informality point about busking was that I could bore you all silly - perhaps I already have - with loads of detailed stuff about buildings falling down but we none of us need that. So a swift informal skip across the material was all that was required. You don't, after all, need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.