John Lennon's killer. And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead have a Hawaiian connection with Chapman. It may be fair to say this is not a tribute.
Monday, April 18, 2016
Covers # 60 Julian Cope
Cope covered this, the first song from Pere Ubu's mighty debut The Modern Dance, in the mid-eighties. That Petrol Emotion were doing a live version of their own at round about the same point. It's no surprise, it must have been simply a great fun thing to play. Cope who sounds like a choirboy in comparison with David Thomas almost makes this into a pop object. The track itself, is played almost note for note which is just as it should be.
Instrumentals # 51 The Frantics
Proper creepy surf instrumental from 1960.
'Werewolf!'
'There! There wolf!'
Song of the Day # 820 Kay Starr
One of the great Pre-Rock and Roll songs. From 1952. Used to great effect later in the soundtracks of The Last Picture Show, LA Confidential and Shutter Island.
Sunday, April 17, 2016
The Heart of Rock & Soul # 1001 Joyce Harris
A difficult and long undertaking this one. But here we go. In 1989, Dave Marsh, a former journalist of Rolling Stone and Creem published a book where he charted his take on the 1001 best singles ever made. It's full of long, personal stories justifying his selections which I may not quote at length but I do recommend the book. Here's his first choice. A fairly great way to start!
Songs Heard on the Radio # 128 Nico
A strange thing to hear coming out of your radio at half past five on a Sunday afternoon, but nice nevertheless. Courtesy of John Cooper Clarke.
Bobby Gillespie Select Magazine Mixtape February 1992 # 24 Chuck Berry
The last song of this particular series.
"I love the lyrics on this one," he cackles, between strokes on his air guitar. "He’s supposed to get it on with this girl: ‘let me tell ya ‘bout a girl I know, I saw her walkin’ down an uptown street.’ and, y’know, he’s into her. I love the feel of it - almost out of tune, really funky and dirty and... Actually, we jam this song sometimes."
"So let’s see what we’ve got. I think it’s quite a good mix of stuff. I mean, I could’ve made a mad tape, with some jazz and things, but I’ve made a pop tape instead. I suppose I could change it."
No, no, Bob, that’ll be just excellent, honestly. You’re looking tired after all that hard work - perhaps we should’ve left the down stuff till later and had some rock numbers to start with.
"What do you mean? Dion! Ya cannae get much more rock’n’ roll than Dion! Nor The Faces! Nor Big Star. Nor Patti Smith... It’s a total rock ‘n’ roll tape, man!"
No, no, Bob, that’ll be just excellent, honestly. You’re looking tired after all that hard work - perhaps we should’ve left the down stuff till later and had some rock numbers to start with.
"What do you mean? Dion! Ya cannae get much more rock’n’ roll than Dion! Nor The Faces! Nor Big Star. Nor Patti Smith... It’s a total rock ‘n’ roll tape, man!"
Thanks Bobby!
Song of the Day # 819 Amber Arcades
Jangly guitar stuff from Dutch-born musician, Annelotte De Graaf. Out now on Heavenly Records.
Saturday, April 16, 2016
Bobby Gillespie Select Magazine Mixtape February 1992 # 23 Chairman of the Board
"This came out on Holland, Dozier and Holland’s label after they left Motown. They were pretty talented guys, too, The General had a real bleeding quality to his voice - he’s not yelling...I think Kevin Rowland of Dexys must’ve been abig fan ofThe General... I dunno, it sounds quite happy at the start, but the chord progression gets quite melancholy."
Song of the Day # 818 Michealangelo
Great obscure early seventies folk rock track brought back to general attention when covered by Golden Smog in the early nineties.
Friday, April 15, 2016
Things Found on my Local's Jukebox # 115 The Rolling Stones
'The sunshine bores the daylight out of me...'
One of the best Stones songs and lyrics. No sign of sunshine here!
Songs About People # 181 Johnny Kwango
'Here come Johnny Kwango. He just sprung down off the ropes. And he won't look you in the eye. In case he gives you any hope...'
Johnny Kwango was a British professional wrestler from the forties to the seventies. Immortalised here by Bevis Frond, a somewhat immortal British psychedelic band themselves who are playing the All Tomorrow's Parties this coming weekend, (starting today), in Prestatyn, Wales. This particular song has something of the bruised romance of Teenage Fanclub's 'Everything Flows' about it.
Bobby Gillespie Select Magazine Mixtape February 1992 # 22 The Spinners
"Right, well, this is a great song too, produced by Thom Bell who was one of the great Philadelphia people. A really talented guy. It’s a sort of ‘I’ll be there’ song."
Song(s) of the Day # 817 Marnie Stern
New York based guitarist and singer who apparently makes no money from her work, relying instead on giving guitar lessons and working on her mum's e-bay site to help her get by. Listening to her stuff you can't altogether be surprised but personally I'm glad she does it nevertheless. This is fiercely uncompromised stuff, deep in the leftfield but pure and melodic at the same time. Here are the first two songs from her latest, 2013 record, The Chronicles of Marnia, to give you a taste.
Thursday, April 14, 2016
Songs Heard on the Radio # 127 The Flying Burrito Brothers
The sound of a heart breaking. One of the most tearful songs ever written. Also one of the best!
Songs About People # 180 Randy Newman
A song for Randy from The Chills, one of the most fabulously melodic bands there's ever been. A cut from their 1992 record Soft Bomb.
Songs With Band's Names In The Title # 1 Wilco
Another spurious series begins. Perhaps just an excuse to post this which I've been playing on repeat for the last few days.
Wednesday, April 13, 2016
Things Found on my Local's Jukebox # 114 Kevin Ayers
One I put on a while back. Remarkably, they have Kevin's Whateverhebringswesing album on the jukebox at Rosie's.
Parquet Courts - Human Performance
'Dust is everywhere. Sweep!'
I'm already deeply enamored with the new Parquet Courts album, which is just out on Rough Trade Records. To such a degree that I'll almost certainly buy myself a vinyl version fairly shortly despite going through a belt-tightening phase at the minute, because the record casts a tighter spell on me every time I listen to it.
Parquet Courts are in an interesting place right now. Their last record made it to # 55 on the American Billboard Charts. Albums by left-field alternative bands don't generally make it so far these days. This record seems sure to go further still as it's a definite stride forward, with several of the best songs they've ever recorded and the whole thing glowing with confidence.
There's an assured clockwork tick-tock efficiency about much of the album, a willingness from the band to not be content with what they've already achieved, stare at their shoes and skulk in the shadows and play for the select few. This is heartening. Of course what they're doing is by no means unprecedented, Far from it obviously, though it's no less thrilling for that. Parquet Courts are working within a finely honed alternative guitar tradition going back to 1967 and the first Velvet Underground record. You'll recognise moments from your own record collection if you come from a similar place to them. At various points I picked up Stooges, Velvets, Modern Lovers, Mission of Burma, Meat Puppets, Television, Sonic Youth, Wire and of course Pavement, an oft-stated influence, though this band are more like Pavement with a heart and devoid of that particular group's superior, entitled smirk.
On second song, the album's title track, they lift the descending melodic line of Wire's Outdoor Miner, one of the best pop infiltrations from the leftfield ever written and augment it to stunning effect to create one of my favourite things from this year. Elsewhere, they plough more familiar furrows, but flesh it all out to a greater degree than they ever have before. They're growing, like all the best bands do. They have something of a swagger about them now. On the record's longest track, One Man No City at differing points of this song their guitars invoke the spirits of first Teenage Riot and then Heroin, and they're no mere steals but testaments to a band entering their imperial phase. It's an album that seems sure to reap further rewards the more it's played. Have a listen!
The Wedding Present 1992 Singles B Side Cover Versions
1. The Close Lobsters - Let's Make Some Plans
2. The Monkees - Pleasant Valley Sunday
3. Elton John - Step Into Christmas
4. Neil Young - Don't Cry No Tears
5. Bow Wow Wow - Go Wild In The Country
6. The Go-Betweens - Cattle & Cane
7. Isaac Hayes - Theme From Shaft
8. Theme From U.F.O.
9. Altered Images - Think That It Might
10. Mud - Rocket
11. David Bowie - Chant Of The Ever Circling Skeletal Family
12. Julee Cruise - Falling
The Wedding Present 1992 Singles B Side Cover Versions # 12 December - Julee Cruse
Curtain down on another series. Perhaps time to cue another one up.
Song(s) of the Day # 815 Arthur Russell
A maverick figure who made his name as an art, pop and dance figure on the New York scene during the seventies and eighties. Classically trained and skilled in minimalist performance, an associate of Allen Ginsberg, Steve Rejch, Philip Glass and David Byrne among others, he used his influence in the art world to put on shows The Modern Lovers and Talking Heads in the mid-seventies. The song below, show his understanding of that form.
I'd direct you first towards the 2008 compilation Love Is Taking Me Over, for further listening pleasure. This selection here is just the tip of the iceberg as far as his talent is concerned.
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
Songs Heard on the Radio # 125 The Clash
The Clash proving they could be a great funk band if they chose to be.
Bobby Gillespie Select Magazine Mixtape February 1992 # 19 Tapper Zukie
"It’s the thing you play first thing, when you’ve just woken up. Another song that makes me feel ‘up’. I like a lot of ‘70s reggae because it kind of flows, it’s sort of liquid. It’s dubby, but there’s a good song in there.
"The lyric goes,’They’re killing off the youth, but every day a new star is born’. It’s really defiant and insurrectionary, a song about fighting back and not giving in. Very inspirational, very spiritual."
"The lyric goes,’They’re killing off the youth, but every day a new star is born’. It’s really defiant and insurrectionary, a song about fighting back and not giving in. Very inspirational, very spiritual."
Song of the Day # 814 Chug
New Zealand band from the nineties wave of Flying Nun. 'Chug', seems quite appropriate. As do the train whistle effects.
Monday, April 11, 2016
Songs About People # 178 Rick Danko & Richard Manuel
A quite beautiful song from Athens, Georgia's Drive-By Truckers for two lost members of The Band with more than the slightest hint of tragedy about them.
Bobby Gillespie Select Magazine Mixtape February 1992 # 18 Freddie Scott
"A great dance record," Bobby affirms. "You hear that and you’ve gotta move to it. You can’t stand still. This is where the Stones were coming from when they were doing stuff like the ‘Exile’ LP, listening to a lot of records like this. It’s got the same kind of feel to it. Aye, great stuff."
Sunday, April 10, 2016
The Replacements - Melody Maker 1987
The Replacements: The Rebel Yell
Simon Reynolds, Melody Maker, 16 May 1987
Describing their relationship to pop as being like 'a dirt road through an emerald city', The Replacements get Simon Reynolds all hot under the collar
THE REPLACEMENTS represent the complete antithesis of all my dreams for the future of pop. And yet I can't help myself, I love them so much it hurts.
You must appreciate how embarrassing this is. Here you see a fervent evangelist for Strangeness, Fascination, Oblivion, The Supernatural, someone who's waged a sincere and vindictive war against Good Songs, Meaning, Simple Passion, and yet finds himself severely infatuated with The Replacements - a group so simple and so natural it's distressing.
Their music is "perfect pop", an amalgam of myriad vintage traces (Sixties Anglo-pop, Alex Chilton, garage, trash-metal, hardcore), and there are words, torn and shaped from the detritus and loose ends of their lives. The words mean something. Yes, I'm afraid the dread "authenticity" is involved as well.
The best term for what The Replacements do is probably "power pop" - but don't flinch, forget those foul associations, and think of what that phrase could signify - pop charged up with a dose of thunder, hooks that crack your ribcage. Think Hüsker Dü; sublime harmonies galvanised with rock attack, rock magnificence. The Replacements are that smashing.
The difference is that, where Hüsker Dü manage to soar, to transcend their environment and mingle with the ether, The Replacements thrash about on the floor, remain grounded. The Replacements are all about energy kicking out against confinement and limits: sometimes the result will be vandalistic, sometimes they'll be crawling up the walls. Even when they're raving it up, there's something sodden and desperate lurking at the heart of the high spirits and crazy foolin' around. This is manic-depressive pop, its violent mood-swings poised around a dilemma neatly captured on a song off the new LP: "Do we give it up? / Do we give it hell?"
At the heart of The Replacements lies fatigue, insecurity, a sense of wasted or denied possibilities, but this is a pain that comes out bursting and exuberant, a world weariness that's positively, paradoxically boisterous.
A Replacements' song can be a scrimmage, a bleary rabble of guitars. Or it can be a semi-acoustic shimmer, a gentle cascade of razor blades in your heart. Either way, Paul Westerberg's voice is equally suited to loutishness or vulnerability, raucous frustration or choked-up sensitivity. It's a great voice, and it has that adolescent quality absent from the Soul Voice that dominates Planet Pop. Fierce, but not robust, a continuous scar, it's the voice of someone dejected, literally thrown down, but struggling up unsteady but determined. It's a voice that captures you through its moments of fallibility, its creases, its slackjawed lack of poise (an abrupt blurt of feeling, a momentary drying-up, tailing away). Westerberg sings as though his tongue's furry, his head's muddied with hangover and clouded over with shame.
And I think The Replacements could be America's inebriate counterpart to The Smiths. Both groups inhabit adolescence's flux of doubt and hope, limitation and possibility; Westerberg and Morrissey are 27-year-olds who've prolonged adolescence into a way of life, who have made a creed of failure and maladjustment. The difference is that a sense of camp and pretentiousness are alien to most American rock bands, which is why Westerberg's wounds reach us raw and gaping, not dressed (up) in Morrissey's peculiar glamour.
Just look at Westerberg's words: simple, but surprisingly dense, words that hurt in valuable ways, words that reach you as a reproach, if, like me, you've started to move away from your adolescence, move towards stability, towards making something of yourself. '16 Blue' and 'Never Mind' touch on the fear (the impossibility?) of making your mind up: "I'm not as ready as I'll ever be / I s'pose your guess / Is more or less, as bad as mine". 'Nightclub Jitters' and 'Swingin' Party' are distant cousins of 'How Soon Is Now', confessions of social ineptitude and communication dread: "If being afraid's a crime / We hang side by side... water all around / Never learn how to swim now". 'Bastards Of Young' is an anthem of failure ("What a mess / On the ladder of success") to parallel 'You've Got Everything Now'. The autumn despair of 'Here Comes A Regular' finds an echo not just in 'It's Over' but in songs by The Mekons, Soul Asylum, Band Of Holy Joy ('Leaves That Fall In Spring'), Hüsker Dü: "A person can work up / A mean mean thirst / After a hard day of nothing much at all... all I know is I'm sick of every damn thing / My money can buy".
But out of this mire emerges a vision of redemptive love to rival 'There Is A Light', in 'Hold My Life' and on 'Can't Hardly Wait', the final, triumphant track on the new LP, 'Pleased To Meet Me'. Maybe I've stretched the comparison a little too far, but I can't think of another two groups who've written about wasting your life with the same candour and wit. And both Westerberg and Morrissey sing about these things in the kind of flawed voice you turn to like a friend.
I FIND myself in Atlanta, Georgia, tucking in to swordfish and sat opposite Paul Westerberg. There's something cartoon about The Replacements, and particularly about their leader. A big head that seems outsize on his skinny, small body; a shaggy mane of hair; a big nose, awry, slightly crazy teeth; a bronchial rasp of a voice - the vague air of exaggeration and caricature about his features is compounded by the ludicrous garb all the band are decked in.
Like a lot of US rock groups, The Replacements are anti-image, anti-style, but instead of dressing down, contenting themselves with merely looking shabby, they've gone to some trouble to throw a spanner in the works of the presentation machine, scouring thrift stores for frightful checked jackets of the kind you associate with loser burlesque comedians and cardsharks. They're wearing green or yellow jeans, Hawaiian shirts, burgundy and puce socks, and one of them has gone so far as to spray paint his shoes silver.
Someone from your record company told me you'd become more responsible these days.
Paul: "More responsible? We've cooled off a little bit, but we're not really responsible. We don't try to get ourselves in trouble now. It happens naturally, of course but, back then, we used to go out of our way to create trouble."
Like the episode when you set fire to your own tour van?
"Yeah, and the time we locked ourselves in the video room at Warner Bros. And the time we brought in all this sand and straw from the streets in our pockets and started throwing it around the offices."
You once dubbed yourselves "rock & roll assholes". What's the last real asshole thing you've done?
"Well, we did this radio interview not long ago where we answered every question with the reply: 'We're gay.' I guess a couple of gay people at the station got offended because the next day they smashed our record on the air. Basically, though, we only behave like assholes, to assholes. We're nice to nice people... but you meet a lot of creeps, people who won't take no for an answer."
Fans?
"I suppose so, although to me a fan is someone who respects you and gives you space. People come up and think they own a piece of you. But if you talk to everyone for a minute, that's five hours, y'know? I guess I know how it feels, there's songs that affected me that deeply when I was younger. It flatters me, scares the hell out of me, that someone would take a song - an afternoon thought that I had maybe two years ago and have since forgotten - and listen to it every day. That's weird, and scary."
A song off the album ('Alex Chilton', one of the standouts, and the next single) seems to be about the way a song can take possession of your life for a while, get in your veins. Tell me what Alex Chilton means to you.
"He's the hippest grandpa I ever met. He inspired maybe half our songs - the frustrated type of songs, like 'Answering Machine'. Maybe the fact that Big Star never were big has a lot to do with why I like him. He was never rammed down anyone's throat on the radio. I sort of stumbled across him through a friend, and he became a sort of special friend that no one knew about. I wish he'd write a pop song again."
Bassist Tommy Stinson pipes up: "Yeah, he's getting so into that New Orleans fake roots stuff."
He produced one track on Tim, no?
Paul: "Well - he was there. His school of production is to turn up, sit down by the desk and smoke a joint, and see what happens. The track didn't turn out so well."
And he likes a drink, like you chaps?
Tommy: "Not so much these days. His tippling days drove him into the gutter. He was livin' down in New Orleans doin' nothing, being a dishwasher. People had to drag him back into music. On some of the dates on this tour he was supporting us."
How do you feel about the new LP?
Paul: "I like it. It's my favourite. Usually, by this stage, I'm sick of a record, but this one I can still listen to. It's got a fuller, stronger sound, which is down to Jim Dickinson, the producer. He produced Big Star, and he used to hang out with The Rolling Stones and shit. What I think happens with each of our records as we progress is that some of our hardcore fans get alienated, but we replace them with new fans. The old fans won't like the fact we use horns on a couple of tracks. 'Can't Hardly Wait' also has strings on it. We got the Memphis Horns to play on the record - the same guys who cut sides with Otis Redding, Arthur Conley and Percy Sledge. We was totally in awe. I think they saw it as a bit of a joke. What the fans don't realise is that if we could have had horns for the first record, we would have used them."
What kind of success do you think the record will have?
Tommy: "Up till now, it's been college radio that's supported us, but now the big stations are starting to pick up on it... their butts are getting buttered! Charlie Springer at Warners has a $1,000 bet with someone that we'll sell 500,000 records. It's nice that someone has confidence in you, although he can afford it. It's neat to hear your record on the radio. But, y'know, we don't really care either way whether we have a hit or not... it only means you've got to shake more hands, talk to more people, pose for more photographs - which we hate."
Paul: 'Things are pretty good right now, we're successful now. Basically, we don't wanna fail, we don't wanna go back to where we were. We're striving not to fail totally. We have no desire to play to 20,000 people. At the moment we play to between 5,000 in the North and 400 in the South."
How do you like being a critics' pet group (their previous LP was voted number 2 in a poll of a hundred American rock critics)?
Tommy: "All those critics are washed-out musicians who never got anywhere. I suppose they get off on the fact that we're a fairly successful group but we're capable of fucking up in a major way. They like the fact that we're unpredictable, whereas most groups at this level are groomed and guided."
You seem to have acquired a reputation for being serious drinkers.
Paul: "Nah, we don't really drink any more than a lot of bands. I've been surprised by the fact that a lot of the bands we've come across, that have squeaky clean images, turn out to take tons of drugs, tons of alcohol."
Like who? The Judds?
'The thing with us was that we never hid it. It was never a big deal, but somehow we got this image and people started to exaggerate, write us up as being shitfaced and incapable onstage."
Another notion about The Replacements is that you're militarist Reaganite scum, something that you hardly ameliorate by continuing to play the US Marines anthem, complete with an interpolation about "The shores of Tripoli".
'The thing you have to understand is when we're making a joke. We started playing that song at hardcore gigs, because it was the perfect way to rile up the audience. You see, there's nothing that bores me more than a hardcore band that says 'Reagan Sucks'. That's about as over-used and easy and silly as 'Let's make love tonight, baby'. I wish people would say something in their songs. It's like saying 'The rain is wet', y'know - I mean, yeah, Reagan sucks - so? Anyway, I'm just waiting for Nixon myself!"
Tommy: "I guess none of us really have any defined political views."
I would have thought, from the songs, that your sympathies would lie with the underdog.
Paul: "Yeah, we like losers. That's where we probably have a soft spot for Reagan, 'coz he is such a loser and such an asshole."
Tommy: "Before we started the band, we were bums, we had little peon labour jobs, we never went to college or nothing. We were just losers looking for something to do, and I guess we lucked out with the band."
The Replacements are a populist band in the sense that Springsteen and The Band were populist - rooting for the little folk who always get trod on, feeling aggrieved and fed up and cheated in some way, but never quite getting to grips with why their dreams have absconded. That's because populism as a political/cultural force exists in the troubled space between American "recurring dreams" of space and freedom and purpose, and the lived reality of constriction and entropy and powerlessness. Populism refuses to relinquish its belief in the promise of America, the possibility of a commonwealth of self-sufficient individuals, and so can't work out what went wrong. Populism has a whole load of questions, but no answers; which makes for great music, but lousy politics.
The Replacements describe their relation to pop as being like "a dirt road through an emerald city", and the video for their single (the wondrous crystalline drive of 'The Ledge') captures this perfectly. Out of a combination of a refusal to conform to the protocol of modern vidpop and a simple inability to be comfortable when being filmed, they've made a video which doesn't compromise in the slightest their anti-MTV bile of a few years back ('Seen Your Video', off Let It Be).
The camera's gaze flits slowly from different segments of their near-motionless bodies - a twitching knee, a bored, blinking eye, a segment of waist, a hand flopping wearily, an exasperated corner of a mouth. It's a promo that manages to propel into the vidpop world of quick-cutting, upful hyper-action... a whole range of experience that pop doesn't acknowledge... torpor, lassitude, despondency, an inelegant lack of oneness with your body... all the experiences that The Replacements' music converts into rocking out. The video - if it gets shown - will be as awkward and obtrusive an intervention as Hüsker Dü were on Joan Rivers, or The Fall would be on Top Of The Pops. Perfect pop, imperfect presentation.
"It's not a bad life this," says Paul. 'The hours between 12 and five suck. Then you soundcheck, and then you have to wait to play. But playing makes up for it. But, see, we must be the laziest band in showbiz. We hate travelling. We love playing, so I guess our dream would be to play for a month in one place, and fly all our fans in so we didn't have to go anywhere."
Tommy: "When this tour's over, we're going to have a mass firing session. We're going to fire our manager, our road manager, our roadies... hell, we're even going to fire ourselves. Then we'll send our suits on tour."
Miscellaneous Facts about The Replacements:
Paul was once "tipsy" and went up to Tom Verlaine at a party and asked him to join the band: "The guy doesn't have much sense of humour."
Alternative names the band might have had: Elegant Mouse. Rooster Fleas. The Retirements. Pelican Urine.
Tommy is 20, has been playing with the band since he was 13: "We took away his childhood."
Paul is getting married in October - the pair of them have been dating for three years. Slim, their guitarist has been married and with kids for a while. The others call their girlfriends "the wives", because they are very faithful.
Paul was flabbergasted when asked if he could imagine a girl being in the band.
WE'RE IN the middle of the long wait between soundcheck and gig. Tension is breeding a few hi-jinks. They find some old helium balloons, prick them and play at funny voices. A band called Rock Gimmick comes in to give them a demo-tape, which they immediately stomp to little bits upon the band's withdrawal. A slightly hairy game of baseball involving an iron pipe and a beer bottle starts up. Later an anguished cry breaks out: "I wish I was someone else! I wish someone else could be in my skin." But nothing really happens to warrant the fearsome reputation.
Onstage, freshly astounded by their vile threads, some British, rock-critical hackles rise within me. Oh, they do look awful Noo Wave; they even look a bit like Slade at times. Oh shit. Tommy's dropped his trousers - how can I defend that? Live, a lot of the intricacy and sensitivity gets lost in the sludge and the slam. But a version of '16 Blue' crumples my heart and my reservations. The Replacements are bulging, bursting at the seams with rude, unruly life.
Sing along: "I'm in love / What's that song? / l'm in love / With that song"
© Simon Reynolds, 1987
Bobby Gillespie Select Magazine Mixtape February 1992 # 17 Mink DeVille
"That record makes me feel very happy," he explains simply. "You put it on and strut about the house. Like it says in the song, ‘Finger on my eyebrow, left hand on my hip’ (he tries it out a while)- you don’t have to explain why you like something just listen. I don’t want to bore people with history lessons."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)