Fame is fickle, and history is fickler. More fickle. Ficklest. Anyway, what role will people think of when they hear the name Rita Moreno, in a thousand years time?
Will it be Anita, in West Side Story? Zelda the snitch in Singing in the Rain? Googie Gomez ("Hot Bitches") in Dick Lester's 1973 bath-house farce The Ritz? Compassionate Sister Peter Marie in Oz?
So Lilly Gave to Solly, just what Billy gave to Molly.
No of course not. Here's the performance that will last a thousand years. Here is a touch of distilled musical genius. Here is her crowning achievement: playing Lilly in the Electric Company's Billy Lick A Lolly. Got a hangover? Turn the volume right up: this will burn right through it, pal.
Well when I die don't you burry me at all,
Just nail my bones up on the wall,
Beneath these bones let these words be seen,
“This is the bloody gears of a boppin’ machine”
Here’s an old documentary on the Rezillos I found on Google video.
I was a big Rezillos fan back in the late seventies, and I've seen them a couple of times since they reformed. If anything, I'd say they were now even better: Faye & Eugene's singing voices are certainly more powerful, and richer, too. And I'd forgotten what a good guitarist Jo "Luke Warm" Callis is, in that lead-and-rhythm-together style of, I dunno, erm, Mick Green? Wilko Johnson? (music journalism hat falls off).
And —swoon— I got to stand next to Faye & Eugene in the audience at the last Bis Christmas show at Oran Mor. Too starstruck to actually say anything, though.
Anyway here they are being interviewed in 2001, before they reformed, talking about the band's history, including their intermediate "Revillos" project. With some hard-to-find archive footage.
To watch in a bigger window, or download it, go to Google video here.
I reckon the death of the Mighty Oliver Postgate will be all over the web for the next few days: or at least the Blighty Web. I couldn’t let the occasion pass without comment, but I don't want to just repeat what everyone else is saying: “Blah blah Bagpuss blah blah great loss blah blah distinctive voice blah blah narrator of our collective childhoods blah blah grandson of George blah blah soup dragon blah blah Peter Firmin blah blah Nogbad the Bad blah blah.”
So instead here's his cousin, Angela Lansbury, on the George Gobel Show in 1956.
Why have I posted this inconsequential stuff? Well I actually wanted to post a long and fascinating interview with Angela which is available chopped up into chunks on YouTube, but embedding's disabled, so you'll have to click here to see it.
And if you want to experience Oliver’s powerful, magical voice, here's the start of the BBC's Alchemists of Sound, a documentary about the BBC Radiophonic Workshop, narrated by the late, great Mr. Angela Lansbury’s Cousin.
The whole programme is on YouTube, in chunks. And Don’t get me started on the blessed Delia...
I went to a double birthday last Saturday night (Hi Bryan! Hi Alison!), and as I often do, made up a mix CD to give as a cheapskate-but-personal present to both parties. No discernible theme here: it's a catholic mixture of stuff I've found and liked recently. Mostly cheesy soundtrack instrumentals, with some hillbilly rock, country, calypso, and so on.
In the past, I would make up a couple of dozen copies of my mix CDs for distribution among friends, but I'm doing it via the WibblyWobblyWomb this time for various reasons:
I can't be arsed making up all the covers and burning all the Cd's.
Even if I did distribute Cd's, I reckon most people would rip the tracks to their MP3 players anyway: this way they get the MP3s as I got them, eliminating a generation of lossyness.
Hully Gully Guitar — Jerry Reed and the Hully Girlies
Rockin’ Chair — Mildred Bailey & Her Orchestra
Can I Believe It’s True — Merv Benton
Eso Beso — Howard Blake and his Combo
Poor Ellen Smith — Molly O’Day
The Shark — Howard Blake and his Combo
Strange Love — Slim Harpo
Bo’s Bounce — Bo Diddley
Ree Baba Ree Baba — Sonic Omi
Gold Dust — Teddy Redell
Cincinatti Dancing Pig — Red Foley
Sputnick-Saturn Jive — Unknown
The cover and title are a variation on the classic “Hippo Birdy Two Ewes” birthday card, with my own mix of pictures. I used a Photo of Bryan himself on his copy: but I couldn't get my hands on a picture of Alison, so had to substitute a picture of the most famous Alison I could think of: Ms. Goldfrapp. That's the version included here.
I don't have the time or inclination to make every track available in playable form on this page, but I had to give you at least one: here's the gloriously, monotonously daft The Mechanical Man by Bent Bolt & The Nuts:
The gateway Trio are an example of American mainstream folk music in the early sixties, before Bobby, Joan and their bath-avoiding beatnik buddies stormed the citadel. It's the sort of clean-cut, button-down, blue-eyed balderdash that is parodied so, – I dunno, what's sweet and sour at the same time? Sour Gums? – so tartaric-acidly, by Christopher Guest and troupe in A Mighty Wind.
It's from the same cheap & cheesy movie (Hootenanny Hoot) as my previous Johnny Cash Clip. The plot is the eternal movie musical standby: putting on a show. In this case, the show is a Hootenanny Circus. Which I suppose should go some way to explaining why the Gateways are performing... while gently bobbing on a trampoline. have a look:
If, for some unaccountable reason, you want to know more about them there's a pocket biography here. Looks like they're still going, too (probably not on the trampoline, though) if the old geezers on this site are the same band.
Johnny Cash? Yes, I've been a big fan of the man in Black for decades. I'm in a tiny minority of Cash fans, though: I really didn't think much of the Rick Rubin American Recordings period. The whole project struck me as a mixture of novelty ("Listen to this old guy sings songs written by young guys!") and car-crash ("Listen to how frail he's getting! How much longer can he last?"). "Hurt" I particularly detested. Lyrically, the song is soaked in egotistical self-pity, expressing a young man's callow emotions, full of self-regard, but without the maturity and reflection to realise that this self-regard is the main obstacle to the resolution of his pain. Such callow words sound frankly grotesque in the mouth of an aging, reflective man like Cash.
So enough of this: time for a bit of vintage Johnny, singing "Frankie & Johnny" from Hootennany Hoot!, a frankly farcical let's-put-a-show-on-right-here musical made in 1963.
I had to borrow Revolt into Style from my Dad, for my last bit on Mike Sarne (my copy is lost in the permanent revolution of books in my house). When my mother heard me talking about Sarne, her response was surprising: "Oh, the one who had an affair with Brigitte Bardot?" she said. I was a little taken aback, since I'd found no mention of this in my research. So I shoved my head back into the packet stream, and came out with... not much. There's a mention of an affair in this pretentious twaddle: looks like it happened while they were filming À coeurjoie (Two Weeks in September) together.
Anyway, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have sung this song to Bébé:
Bad timing can make the best of us look like fools.
George Melly has the humility to point out his own turn as History's joke, in Revolt Into Style, (1971) his groundbreaking study of popular culture of the fifties and sixties. George quotes himself in an Article for the then-young New Society Magazine in October 1962, as readable as he always was, and making smart, funny and pointed observations, he came a cropper when he saw what he thought was the future of pop music.
He was suitably dismissive of the anodyne pap that filled the charts in the backwash of Rock & Roll and Skiffle: the various clean cut Bobbys (Vee, Vinton, Rydell etc.), Helen Shapiro, and the stuff of Children’s Favourites. The only interesting stuff he saw in the charts were the hard-edged and witty songs about real life from the likes of Bernard Cribbens (Hole in The Ground and Right Said Fred) Anthony Newley (Pop Goes the Weasel) and Mike Sarne (Come Outside), all using an early form of that adapted, adopted Cockney of Youth, later pinned-down as Estuary English or Mockney .
Spare a thought for George: in the 1971 book, he graciously owned up to his mis-prediction. He didn’t try to mitigate his faults at all, although he could have. Yes, he should have spotted the potential of the proto-Beatles playing interval beat sets at then-jazz-club The Cavern when he played there: and the Beat and Blues Booms (led by the Fabs and the Stones) scoured a lot of rubbish out of the British (and international) music charts: but there was a lot of prosaic wit and humour still around in the world of beat music. Ray Davies of the Kinks moved rapidly from ersatz R&B to British barbed whimsy as the sixties progressed. And both Freddie and the Dreamers and Herman’s Hermits developed successful pop-comedy formulas. You might not like me including minnows like Peter Noone and Freddie Garrity in with cultural blue whales like John, Paul, Mick and Keef, but remember, I’m talking about how things looked then, not how they look from here. I will draw a veil over the Barron Knights.
Here’s Mike’s hit Come Outside, with vocal contributions from Wendy “Miss Brahms” Richard. I can’t seem to think of her as “Pauline Fowler” at all. Maybe it’s just my age, or maybe the performance on the record is much more Miss Brahms to Mike’s Mr. Lucas/Trevor Bannister character. And who was Trevor Bannister replaced by on AYBS? Mike Berry—a sixties pop star! It’s all coming together. A bit.
What? Not enough about Mike? Well he had a few more minor hits like Just for Kicks, Code of Love (which i can’t find), acted a bit, in The Avengers, Man In A Suitcase, and The Bill: and he directed a few films, most notably Myra Breckinridge.
Way back in the nineties, my home-made I Hate Country & Western cassettes were to be found in the tottering piles next to cassette machines around Glasgow. Followed by Hey, I'm not fussy... I hate everything, then moving to CD with I Hate Mento, Love at First Sound, Jiggery Pokery and Black Salad. Now it's time to bring my shitey old music discoveries into the twenty-first century.
