Category: 1960s songs

The Brits, Feeling Under the Cosh and 50 Year Retrospectives – Houston, We Have A Problem

Something that we music bloggers never want to happen is for our blogging output to become a bit of a chore, yet…, we can get ourselves into a cycle of writing about things we kind of have to write about as opposed to what we want to write about, and that’s not a good position to find yourself in.

I don’t know about everyone else but this blog is starting to feel like an obituary column, but all down to that old chestnut age – if we are getting older then our musical heroes are getting even older, and we are starting to lose them at an alarming rate. The option not to write about Burt Bacharach was never there for me, as this blog’s name came from the opening line to one of his songs, but going forward I think I’m going to have to limit the number I write.

What’s It All About, Alfie?

Then there’s the series. Over the years I’ve really enjoyed some of the ones I’ve published (the Full Moon Calendar In Song being my favourite) but some of the others have petered out early on, especially if they’ve been particularly epic like my American Odyssey in Song (it was all Delaware’s fault). At the moment I have a series about songs relating to months of the year, but I always seem to be up against a deadline, just managing to fit the latest edition in before we move into the next month – it’s not turned out to be as much fun as I thought.

Perry, it was all your fault!

As for my 50 year retrospective series, where I intended to revisit my folder of pop star pinups from 1973, that has hit a bump in the road. Some of the artists that populated the Top Ten back then, and the pages of magazines aimed at 12-14 year old girls, were later found to have been predators of the worst kind, and it now makes for uncomfortable reading. No, Mr Paul Gadd, I never did want to “touch you, there, where, there”, but the editors of our mags obviously thought differently and his hairy chest and grinning face appeared in every copy in 1973. I do think teenage girls are a good judge of character but back then we were often let down by adults who should have known better, but who inexplicably missed all the signals. Different times indeed.

Last but not least, I always watch the Brit Awards and usually write about them afterwards (or as Jez said in the comments boxes last year, “Alyson, she watches the Brits so we don’t have to”). So far, despite the show airing a week ago now, I’ve not yet come up with anything for this year’s extravaganza. There always used to be a standout performance, or shocking moment, but the main takeaway for me this year is that music has become very corporate indeed with the artists sitting at tables surrounded by “their team” – the money men, the label bosses, the songwriters – all looking very smug. It’s nigh impossible to become really successful by just plugging away at your craft as per the old days, and the big winner of the night, Harry Styles, was someone who started out in a boy band put together by Simon Cowell for a prime time television show. It seems that Sam Smith’s demonic performance with Kim Petras did however ruffle a few feathers and, wait for it, Ofcom received the grand total of 109 complaints about it. Considering the show was aired live on ITV on Saturday night and was watched by 4 million people, if they had set out to cause outrage, they failed miserably.

Harry Styles, the big winner of the night

One big bonus for me this year is that I now understand why so much fuss has been made about Isle of Wight band Wet Leg. They have been mentioned often amongst the other “cooler” blogs, whose hosts have their finger on the pulse, and it seems those bloggers were on the button as they came away with two big awards, one for being Best Newcomer and the other for Best Group. Straight to the top in their first year so a bit of a stratospheric rise considering their debut album only came out last year. Here is their performance of debut single Chaise Longue which is delivered in deadpan style by lead singer Rhian Teasdale. She apparently wrote the song in only a day whilst sitting on bandmate Hester’s grandfather’s chaise longue. The lyric, “Is your muffin buttered?/Would you like us to assign someone to butter your muffin?” is supposedly a direct quote from the 2004 teen comedy Mean Girls. Having watched that film with DD many years ago, I can believe that, but yet again I’m probably being naïve.

It was all happening on the Wet Leg stage – Morris dancers, pastoral scenes, bonnets and cows.

So, “What’s It All About?” – I hate feeling under the cosh around here and with four time sensitive posts to be written this month (more if anyone else passes away), it’s all got a bit too much. I really need to get back to what I do best – simply picking a timely song from the tracks of my years, finding out so much more about it than was ever possible back in the day, and sharing a few memories. Maybe next month.

In the meantime, and before I sign off for today, here’s an idea. Instead of a 50 year retrospective where I concentrate on those artists who featured in the Smash Hits equivalent of the day and who made it to the Top Ten of the UK Singles Chart, how about I revisit those songs which only made it to the lower reaches of the charts but which have since become classics. Billy Paul recorded Me and Mrs. Jones in Philadelphia in 1972 but it peaked on our British charts in the February of 1973. It’s such a lush song, and one I have always loved, although at the age of 12 I probably wouldn’t have picked up on quite how heart-breaking the lyrics are. Glad I’ve never found myself in such a position as the subterfuge would cripple me. I would crack early on and tell Mr WIAA exactly what I’d been up to at 6.30pm every day (if indeed it is pm and not am). A beautiful song though.

Me and Mrs. Jones by Billy Paul:

A strange one this but I still managed to touch on the Brits and revisit a favourite song from 50 years ago. Quite something considering I sat down today to say I wasn’t going to do any of those things!

Until next time, to our our elder statesmen of rock and pop, please keep well until next month, as at the moment I can’t keep up.

Me and Mrs. Jones Lyrics
(Song by Kenny Gamble, Leon Huff, Cary Gilbert)

Me and Mrs Jones
We got a thing going on
We both know that it’s wrong
But it’s much too strong
To let it go now

We meet every day at the same cafe
6:30
I know, I know she’ll be there
Holding hands, making all kinds of plans
While the jukebox plays our favorite song

Me and Mrs, Mrs. Jones
Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones
We got a thing going on
We both know that it’s wrong
But it’s much too strong
To let it go now

We gotta be extra careful
That we don’t build our hopes up too high
Cause she’s got her own obligations
And so, and so do I

Me and Mrs, Mrs. Jones
Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones
We got a thing going on
We both know that it’s wrong
But it’s much too strong
To let it go now

Well, it’s time for us to be leaving
It hurts so much, it hurts so much inside
Now she’ll go her way
And I’ll go mine
But tomorrow we’ll meet the same place
The same time

Me and Mrs, Mrs. Jones
Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Jones
We got a thing going on

We gotta be extra careful
We can’t afford to build our hopes up too high
I wanna meet and talk to you
At the same place, the same cafe, the same time
And we’re gonna hold hands like we used to
We gonna talk it over, talk it over
We know, they know
And you know and I know it was wrong
But I’m thinking strong
We gotta let ’em know now
That we got a thing going on, a thing going on

Thanks Burt, for the Memories, and for Creating Your Unique “Sound” – RIP Mr Bacharach

Author: Alyson

Whenever I hear an old song on the radio, I am immediately transported back to those days. I know I’m not alone here and want to record those memories for myself and for the people in them. 57 years ago, the song “Alfie” was written by my favourite songwriting team, Bacharach and David. The opening line to that song was, “What’s it all about?” and I’m hoping by writing this blog, I might find the answer to that question.

Well, it doesn’t get much closer to home than this one. If you ever scroll down through one of my blog posts to reach the comments boxes, the words above are what you will read. Each post is attributed to the author (only me around here), and the blog’s short mission statement is attached. To be honest the blog didn’t start out as What’s It All About? – the domain name I originally bagged was for one called the Jukebox Time Machine. After a very short space of time however I found myself continually returning to the late 1960s, and specifically to the songs of Burt Bacharach, so a change came about. I heard the news of his passing last night before going to bed and of course this morning the radio stations were awash with songs from his vast back catalogue, songs that have been shared around here many times. Burt even has his very own category on my sidebar, and only George Michael has been written about more often.

My prized CD boxset containing 60 of Burt’s songs

But of course unlike George Michael, Burt Bacharach didn’t actually sing the songs or write the lyrics for them, so how is it that we all know his name and can so readily recognise the songs attributed to him? Because he came up with something known as the “Bacharach Sound”. Though his style was sometimes called easy listening, he wasn’t particularly keen on that label. It might have been easy on the ears, but it was anything but easy to come up with. The precise arrangements, the shifts in meter, the varied selection of instruments used, and fitting the lyrics to all the notes, proved challenging to singers and musicians, BUT, what a sound. When I listen to a Bacharach song it’s like being wrapped in a warm blanket of mellifluous sound. Think Dusty Springfield, Dionne Warwick, Julie London , BJ Thomas and Christopher Cross. Yes, there are times when we want to listen to something more rousing or difficult but few things give me more joy than having a Burt Bacharach song pop up unexpectedly on the radio or on a film soundtrack.

The links above are to previous posts so I won’t share those songs again. I will however share the very first song from my CD boxset, which was also the first hit song Burt wrote with Hal David. The Story Of My Life, recorded by Michael Holliday, reached the No. 1 spot on the UK Singles Chart in 1958. The song that replaced it at the top spot was Perry Como’s Magic Moments, also written by Bacharach and David, the first time there were consecutive No. 1s by the same songwriter/s on the British chart. They were on a roll.

The Story Of My Life by Michael Holliday:


I’ve always thought the title of this song is very relevant to this blog, as in a roundabout way I have told the story of my life whilst journeying back through “the tracks of my years”, sharing the memories. Very few of us live high octane lives full of adventure and momentous happenings, but each of us has our own story to tell (if we are so inclined) and whenever I share Burt’s songs I am reminded of my childhood growing up as part of a small but loving family in rural Scotland. I am reminded of: my dad making us laugh with his impressions of Gene Pitney; watching the Cilla show on a Saturday night when she sang the song Alfie; and, experiencing the film Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid when it first aired on television, but having to run and hide in the pantry after feeling embarrassed about crying so much over the ending. All of these memories feature the songs of Burt Bacharach.

Another song that hasn’t been shared around here before is Don’t Make Me Over, the first of many Bacharach and David songs recorded by Dionne Warwick. It was the lead single from her debut album and its success led to the formation of one of the most successful musical pairings in popular music history. One of the backing singers on the record was Dionne’s aunt, Cissy Houston, who was pregnant with her youngest child, Whitney Houston!

Don’t Make Me Over by Tommy Hunt:


I think I’ll finish with two versions of I’ll Never Fall In Love Again, the first version by Deacon Blue was filmed in our local theatre, a place I know really well, as part of a week long set of concerts by Scottish artists for the BBC. Deacon Blue opted for a slower arrangement and the song was released in 1990 as part of a four-song EP called, understandably, Four Bacharach & David Songs. I love Deacon Blue as they wrote some wonderful and memorable songs, but it was this one by Burt that gave them their biggest hit in the UK. For the music clip I’ve shared the Bobbie Gentry version from 1969, when she reached the top spot on the UK Singles Chart. As a child I liked the line about the germs you’d get from kissing a boy (eugh), but I also liked her really big hair (although I think there must have been a bit of trickery going on up there). 

I’ll Never Fall In Love Again by Bobbie Gentry:


So, a bit of a tribute post, but this time no sadness, just a celebration of the life of a man who made it to the grand old age of 94 – a man who will be remembered as one the most important and influential figures of 20th century popular music.

Oh, and for the record, I watched a Special once where Burt was asked the question, “What’s It All About?”. He said, as per the song Alfie, it was love… Listening to all these wonderful songs, that seems about right. Here’s to love, and RIP Burt Bacharach.

Burt Bacharach 1928 to 2023

Until next time…

I’ll Never Fall In Love Again Lyrics
(Song by Burt Bacharach/Hal David)

What do you get when you fall in love?
A guy with a pin to burst your bubble
That’s what you get for all your trouble
I’ll never fall in love again
I’ll never fall in love again

What do you get when you kiss a guy?
You get enough germs to catch pneumonia
After you do, he’ll never phone you
I’ll never fall in love again
I’ll never fall in love again

Don’t tell me what it’s all about
‘Cause I’ve been there and I’m glad I’m out
Out of those chains, those chains that bind you
That is why I’m here to remind you

(What do you get when you give your heart?
You get it all broken up and battered
That’s what you get, a heart that’s shattered
I’ll never fall in love again
Oh, I’ll never fall in love again)

(What do you get when you fall in love?
You get enough tears to fill an ocean
That’s what you get for your devotion
I’ll never fall in love again
I’ll never fall in love again)

What do you get when you fall in love?
You only get lies and pain and sorrow
So, for at least until tomorrow
I’ll never fall in love again
I’ll never fall in love

Months Of The Year In Song: January, A Time Of New Beginnings

At last I find myself writing about a month whose name isn’t derived from a Latin number. That would be because we have moved on from the Roman calendar to the Julian and Gregorian ones. The ‘unorganised winter’ period became ‘organised’ and the months of January and February were added to the calendar so that it covered a standard lunar year of 354 days (a slight flaw there but in time it was adjusted for). The month of January is named after Janus, the god of beginnings and transitions in Roman mythology. Sounds about right.

A statue of the god Janus

Here in Scotland, which is in the Northern Hemisphere, it is the coldest month of the year, and true to form it has been very parky around here of late. A bit of a disaster in a year when our heating bills are sky-rocketing. Conversely, for all you lucky people in the Southern Hemisphere, it is your warmest month.

The actress January Jones – much prettier than Janus

As for songs relating to the month, I ended up with a few more suggestions than I expected, so let’s crack on with them. Before I start here are a few words from C of Sun Dried Sparrows fame:

“I have a slight case (is that the right word?!) of synaesthesia, and see the months (along with days of the week and letters of the alphabet) as colours. January is a colour that I can’t even describe, kind of grey but also purple.”

I hear you C, and although the colours in my head are not quite as vivid as the ones you possibly see, that grey/purple hue sounds about right, just as orange was apt for the month of October.

Just about everyone suggested the song January by Pilot for this edition of the series but I’m going to leave it for last, as it would have been my suggestion too. Other contributions came in first of all from Ernie Goggins, who put forward January Song by Lindisfarne. I see that song is from the album Fog On The Tyne which has been written about here before when I shared photos of my late father-in-law, who also came from Newcastle. The band really were at the top of their game back in 1971 when this beautiful song was recorded.


The next set of suggestions came in from Khayem and here are his own words:

“First up is Dave Goulder from 1970 with his song January Man, covered by the likes of Bert Jansch, Christy Moore and Martin Carthy. I’ve just got one, a rather fine version by Rachel Unthank & The Winterset, link here. Also, Nick Heyward eschewed folk for frenetic acoustic pop with his same-name-song in 1993.”

Two very different styles of song there and as I said in my reply to him last month, I was a big fan of the very cute Nick Heyward back in the day, so lovely to hear something from him that was new to me.  


The next contribution was from Rol:

“Very late to this, so I’ll keep it brief. I had a few suggestions, but I’ve narrowed it down to just one, The Decemberists with January Hymn.“


Another beautiful folksy song and a great clip made up of footage from a harsh 1960s winter it seems (check out the person at 1:38 – very funny). Thanks Rol.

The final suggestion was from The Swede, who thought he might be too late, but because of my tardiness he wasn’t!

“I hope I’m not too late to offer a January song suggestion. Khayem beat me to it with my first thought of January Man, so I’ll head off in a 1960s psych/prog direction with The Doorway to January, an instrumental piece by Mandrake Paddle Steamer, a band formed in my home town of Walthamstow in 1967.”

Crikey TS, it seems the Summer of Love came to Walthamstow after all, but being only aged seven I imagine you missed out. Very psychedelic as you say.


But here is the song that immediately sprang to mind for many of us of a certain vintage, January by the Scottish band Pilot. Written by lead singer David Paton and produced by Alan Parsons (he of The Project fame and Dr Evil’s scientist) the song was their sole No. 1 hit, reaching the top spot this exact week back in 1975, where it stayed for three weeks.

January by Pilot:


The song, however, was not about the month but about a girl named January, the name taken from a female protagonist in a book that David Paton’s wife was reading at the time. It’s obvious now of course but I’m not sure if it clicked back in the day, it becoming a big hit for them at this time of year.

Before I go I want to share a discovery just made this morning. I was only 14 when Pilot appeared on TOTP with their song. A few months later an artist called Andy Fairweather Lowe also appeared on TOTP, as he had a hit with the song Wide Eyed and Legless. Until today I always thought the lead singer of Pilot and Andy were the same guy, who had now gone solo – separated at birth or what? I feel really silly now, but hey, I was young and had no access to any of the info we have at our disposal nowadays.

Andy on the left and David on the right

Next month will be February, so any song suggestions will be gratefully received as ever. The worst of the winter will be past by then hopefully, and our thermostats will return to more economically manageable settings. Lighter nights too, or rather lighter afternoons, which is always a good sign.

Until next time…

January Lyrics
(Song by David Paton)

January
Sick and tired, you’ve been hanging on me
You make me sad with your eyes
You’re telling me lies
Don’t go, don’t go

January
Don’t be cold, don’t be angry to me
You make me sad, come and see
Oh, January
Don’t go, don’t go

Life gets me higher (Higher)
I can show, I can glow
I can wake up the world, little world
Gotta know you, gotta show you

Sun, like a fire (Fire)
Carry on, don’t be gone
Bring me out of my home sweet home
Gotta know me, gotta show me
You’ve been facing the world
You’ve been chasing the world

January
Sick and tired, you’ve been hanging on me
You make me sad with your eyes
You’re telling me lies
Don’t go, don’t go

January
Don’t be cold, don’t be angry to me
You make me sad, come and see
Oh, January
Don’t go, don’t go

Time, it’s a flier (Flier)
Sunny day, fly away
English summers are gone, so long
Gotta go up, gotta blow up

Sun, like a fire (Fire)
Carry on, don’t be gone
Bring me out of my home sweet home
Gotta know me, gotta show me
You’ve been facing the world
You’ve been chasing the world

January
Sick and tired, you’ve been hanging on me
You make me sad with your eyes
You’re telling me lies
Don’t go, don’t go

January
Don’t be cold, don’t be angry to me
You make me sad, come and see
Oh, January
Don’t go, don’t go


Postscript:

Some of the other people who have been suggested also look like David Paton. I’ll leave you to be the judge.

King of the Canyon: RIP David Crosby

He really shouldn’t have survived the late ‘60s, but against all the odds he did, and made it to the grand old age of 81. Another week passes, and another legend passes, this time David Crosby, he of The Byrds, and Crosby, Stills & Nash fame.

Until I started this blog, which has been a real education in discovering the back stories to the artists and songs I grew up listening to, I didn’t know that much about David Crosby but early on in this ‘nostalgic journey through the tracks of my years’ I discovered a great affinity for the music of the late 1960s, and especially the folk-rock that came pouring out of the hotbed of creativity that was Laurel Canyon. David Crosby seemed to be at the centre of everything that went on there and whenever I watched any of the documentaries made about the place (written about here) he was usually one of the main contributors.

Here’s something new I didn’t know before, David’s parents came from two prominent New York families, the Van Cortlandts and the Van Rensselaers, both of whom first came to the Americas in the 17th century and settled in what was then New Amsterdam. His parents (regulars in society magazines) moved to LA in the 1920s after which his father became an Oscar-winning cinematographer. David’s older brother Ethan got into the music business first, quickly followed by David who by this time had flunked out of college. In 1964 he joined The Byrds and although not the best song-writer or instrumentalist, and often not the lead vocalist, he was responsible for their trademark soaring harmonies and particular phrasing. Here is Turn! Turn! Turn! from 1965.


But David being David, it didn’t take long for tensions to rise within the Byrds ranks, mainly because of his onstage political diatribes between songs. He further annoyed his bandmates when, at the invitation of Stephen Stills, he substituted for an absent Neil Young during Buffalo Springfield’s set at Monterey. This internal conflict boiled over during the summer of 1968, and David was given his P45, but thankfully for us, the partying which then ensued in the nooks and crannies of Laurel Canyon, led to the formation of Crosby, Stills & Nash. David is often credited with having been the architect of folk-rock and it didn’t take long for this new supergroup (Neil Young at times becoming a fourth member) to find great success, their self-titled debut album selling over four million copies and spawning two Top 40 hits, one of them being this song, Marrakesh Express.

Marrakesh Express by Crosby, Stills and Nash:


I’ve shared that song around here before and because I love the story behind the famous album cover, here it is again – The band had apparently been driving around with their photographer friend Henry Diltz when they saw an abandoned house with a sofa outside. They took the iconic picture and then went home. After finalising the name of the band, they realised they should change the seating order. Sadly when they returned to the same spot, the house had been reduced to a pile of timber, so the original picture stood. Glad they didn’t decide to change the name of the band to fit the picture, as Nash, Stills & Crosby just doesn’t cut it for me.

Some people from the world of music change their look every few years but from what I can see, David Crosby found a style that suited him in the late ’60s and just stuck with it. The hair may have turned white but right up until the end he still sported his long frizzy hair, distinctive moustache and sideburns. The look of a dandy was not for David and he seems to have been very comfortable in his own skin.


He was definitely an ornery and cantankerous kind of chap who fell out with just about everyone he ever worked with (although not Stephen Stills it seems) but maybe we need those kind of characters in life as they often act as the catalyst that brings about bigger change. Who knows, the whole Laurel Canyon scene might not have happened in quite the same way without him (and his supply of drugs!). He thankfully avoided joining the 27 Club, something some of his contemporaries (Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin) didn’t manage to do and ended up living a relatively long life. RIP David Crosby.

So, ‘What’s It All About?’ – It does seem as if every other post around here is a tribute nowadays, but as the years roll by, it’s kind of becoming inevitable. I’ve followed music keenly since the 1970s, and have really enjoyed delving back to the 1960s on these pages, an era I was not quite as familiar with. I am, however, conscious of the fact I don’t want the blog to become an obituary column so will restrict my tributes to those artists who mean something to me, or ones, like David, that I’ve written about around here before.

To those music bloggers from my circle who have lost people from their own lives recently, I hope I have not been insensitive. You know who you are and my thoughts are with you.

Until next time…

Turn! Turn! Turn! Lyrics
(Song by Pete Seeger)

To everything turn, turn, turn
There is a season turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

To everything turn, turn, turn
There is a season turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven

A time to build up, a time to break down
A time to dance, a time to mourn
A time to cast away stones
A time to gather stones together

To everything turn, turn, turn
There is a season turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven

A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace
A time to refrain from embracing

To everything turn, turn, turn
There is a season turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under heaven

A time to gain, a time to lose
A time to rend, a time to sew
A time for love, a time for hate
A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late

Another Festive Ramble, Some Seasonal Globetrotting and ‘A Very Merry Christmas to You’

Well, it’s now or never, and I don’t mean Elvis’s version of O Sole Mio. In my seven years of blogging I’ve always written a few festive posts ahead of the big day, but none have so far been forthcoming this year. Life in the UK is a tad… challenging at the moment. Makes the writing of jolly upbeat posts harder than usual, but no reason not to try. As I’ve just mentioned Elvis, I think I’ll start the ball rolling with something from him, Blue Christmas, this performance from the ’68 Comeback Special. Was it his finest hour? Perhaps not, but it must have come close, and even sweeter as it came on the back of him being written off as an artist, after all those years holed up in Hollywood.


Quite an apt song to kick off with I think. For the past two years the festive season has been severely curtailed by the pandemic. The advice was always to keep all the doors and windows open if you were having the family round, which made things a bit cold and miserable. This year no-one can afford to both turn up the thermostat and celebrate Christmas, so again we’ll all turn blue with the cold. I’m jesting of course, or am I? It’s certainly going to be a tough time for many families. (At this point I have to share concern for my blogging buddies in the US, who if the forecasts are correct, are about to experience sub-zero temperatures of biblical proportions – please keep yourselves safe and warm.)

A Blue Christmas

Talking of families going through tough times, we still have a war, sorry Special Military Operation, being waged in Eastern Europe, causing so many families to be displaced. Several hotels in our town are hosting Ukrainians at the moment, and I noticed a few local charities had organised parties and presents for the children. Hopefully it cheered them up, but there is absolutely no doubt they would rather be at home in their own country with their dads. Let’s hope by this time next year that can happen. Like me you’ve probably heard this beautiful song being played many times in the run to Christmas this year, Carol of the Bells, written by Ukrainian composer Mykola Dmytrovych Leontovych. He apparently used a four note motif as an ostinato (musical phrase) which was taken from an ancient pagan Ukrainian New Year’s chant. Here is a choir in full national dress, and a music clip from the very seasonal film Home Alone. Aw, Kevin McCallister, a one-boy army.

Carol of the Bells from Home Alone by John Williams:


Although I had no qualms about sharing that piece of music from another part of the world, this one I am in two minds about, but it has become a bit of an earworm this year. It keeps popping up on the radio and I couldn’t understand why, but Mr WIAA tells me it features in an advert, which always revives interest. Is it ok that I’m enjoying listening to a middle-aged white bloke sing a Hawaiian Christmas song? Not sure, but I think so. Mele Kalikimaka (‘Merry Christmas’ in Hawaiian, a language that doesn’t use the letters R, Y, C, S or T, thus the substitutes), was written back in 1949 by R. Alex Anderson who was a golfing chum of Bing Crosby’s. Bing enjoyed the song so much he recorded it with The Andrews Sisters in 1950. (Chevy Chase also seemed to enjoy the song in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation!)

Mele Kalikimaka by Bing Crosby and the Andrews Sisters:


As often happens with these spontaneous festive rambles, things turn full circle. Elvis, as we know, made many films in Hawaii and also staged the Aloha from Hawaii via Satellite event in 1973 watched by millions all over the world. He’s not looking quite as healthy as he did in the Comeback Special (a Christmas Special when first aired in the US), but his voice was still as strong as ever. Let’s listen to a bit of Blue Hawaii to take our minds off how cold it is both inside and out this year. Still hard to believe he was found dead only four years later at the age of 42.


This might seem like I’m veering way off tangent now, but bear with me. I’ve kind of missed the boat now, but I really wanted to host a Fifty Year Retrospective this year, as 1972 was when I really started to get into music, big time. It didn’t happen, obviously, but I still thought I’d have a look back at the UK Singles Chart from this week in 1972. The usual suspects, T. Rex, Slade, Elton and Michael, were present and correct, but back in 1972 those Osmond Brothers were sweeping the board with three singles in the Top Ten.


We’ll ignore the one at the top spot but when I watch the rest of them perform Crazy Horses (they were way ahead of their time as it’s a song about ecology and the environment), the Osmonds remind me of little Elvises in their bejewelled jumpsuits (starts at 0:17). Watching them now, not so cool, but back then I was definitely the right demographic for Osmondmania and had their posters all over my bedroom wall. In my defence I was only 12. In their defence, they must have taken fashion tips from Elvis.


So, ‘What’s It All About?’ – I do enjoy a festive ramble and how bizarre to end up with the Osmonds but all because I started off with the line, ‘It’s now or never’. We’ve watched Elvis in his Christmas Special, visited the Ukraine and Hawaii, returned to a jumpsuited Elvis, before finally revisiting the UK Singles Chart of Christmas 1972.

This year we’re going to DD’s for Christmas Dinner after teasing them it was their turn. She’s seen me do it often enough, so I’m sure it will go well. My little mum will be in her care home, with those who have become her new family, the staff and residents. It’s sad that she no longer recognises us but just how these things go. I’ll leave her presents for her to open on the day.

Merry Christmas to everyone who visits this place. I hope those of you who celebrate it, have a lovely time (and please…, keep warm).

One of the baubles made by my mum, many years ago

Until next time…


Mele Kalikimaka Lyrics
(Song by R Alex Anderson)

Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say
On a bright Hawaiian Christmas day
That’s the island greeting that they send to you
From the land where palm trees sway

Here, they know that Christmas will be green and bright
The sun to shine by day and all the stars at night
Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii’s way
To say Merry Christmas to you

I’m a lonesome traveller from so far away
And I won’t be home on Christmas day
But I’ve got some friends to help me celebrate
In the land where hula maidens sway

Here, where life is easy going, I have come
To mingle with the fishes in the Hawaiian sun
Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii’s way
To say Merry Christmas to you

(Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say)
(On a bright Hawaiian Christmas day)
(That’s the island greeting that we send to you)
(From the land where palm trees sway)

Here, they know that Christmas will be green and bright
The sun to shine by day and all the stars at night
Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii’s way
To say Merry Christmas to you
Mele Kalikimaka is Hawaii’s way
To say Merry Christmas
Mele Kalikimaka
A very Merry Christmas to you

Bothy Ballads, Gaberlunzie and The Best Fun I Had All Week, Was in a Care Home!

During the darkest days of the pandemic, I often started my posts with the words, ‘How are we all doing?’. It was a stressful time for most of us what with all the uncertainty about how things would pan out. How soon we forget however, and once the vaccines became freely available, we thought life would get back to normal. In 2022 however, every ‘crisis’ imaginable seems to have hit us at the same time. My pandemic question again feels quite pertinent:

How are we all doing?

I’m not ashamed to admit that I sometimes feel overwhelmed by all that is going on in the world, and closer to home, and I am not the same relaxed person I was in 2016 when I started this blog. I should change my name to Anxious Alyson, someone who finds it quite hard to write entertaining and light-hearted posts at the moment, so apologies for that.

The modern-day care home – quite swish really

A most welcome relief from all the anxiety came in the unlikely form of a visit to a care home yesterday. Regulars around here will remember that four years ago we had to find a care home place for my mum, after a stay in hospital made it impossible for her to return to her retirement flat. It all started well but after only 15 months, due to the pandemic, the home closed to nearly all visitors and any non-essential personnel, like entertainers. For two and a half years it proved very difficult to visit at all what with tests being required, masks, much form-filling and social distancing. In the last month however all that has changed, and things have returned to how they used to be when she first took up residence. Sadly, those residents like my mum who have dementia, have deteriorated quite markedly because of the social isolation of the pandemic years. Yes, they were being ‘kept safe’ from the virus, as directed by our government, but time was not on their side, and many passed away during that period. My mum did make it through, but she no longer knows who I am, which makes my visits quite tricky at times, although you do learn how make them work.

Yesterday they had an accordionist in to entertain, a chap who came regularly prior to the pandemic and who is now being invited back again. I joined them all in the big lounge where he had set up shop, and what a joyous afternoon it turned out to be. One of the most bizarre aspects of dementia, and Alzheimer’s especially, is that you have no short-term memory at all, and you can’t remember anything about your previous life, but you do remember all the words to all the songs you grew up listening to. (Come the day, god forbid we music-bloggers end up in such a situation, we’ll be able to quote chapter and verse all the lyrics to all the songs mentioned in our blogs.)

Phil Cunningham, another well-known Scottish accordionist

It being Scotland, one of the most popular portable instruments for playing traditional music is the accordion, and Duncan, its very dextrous operator (just so many keys and buttons), has a lovely way of connecting with the home’s residents. The songs he plays are the ones I would have been mortified listening to as a teenager, as not the kind of fodder to ever pop up on ToTP or on prime-time telly (The White Heather Club being the embarrassing exception), but they are the songs that would have been played at my granny and grandad’s house on the radio, or via shellac 78s, so all very familiar. My mum, it’s safe to say, knew all the words to even the most obscure and forgotten-about traditional Scottish songs, and we had great fun singing along to them. The best bit was that the staff encouraged dancing, and after working out that if I held on to her at all times for support, my mum and I could entertain the troops with our waltzes, Gay Gordons (a Scottish country dance) and freestyle jigs. Every now and again I asked her if she needed a break but that was apparently not an option so we both had a great afternoon of song and dance. Bet she slept well last night.

I can’t believe I’m nearly seven years into this blog without sharing any of the Scottish songs of my youth but they’re definitely not for everyone and very niche. One of yesterday’s songs was a bothy ballad, called The Barnyards of Delgaty. A bothy is a very spartan farm outbuilding, where in the early years of the 1900s farm labourers in the North-East of Scotland would sleep after having been hired at the ‘feeing market’. Both my grandfathers worked as farm labourers in their youth and would have stayed in such places. My mum’s dad, whose songs I would have listened to as a child, himself worked at the farm called The Barnyards of Delgaty so I always think of him when I hear it. With no internet or large screen television sets for entertainment in the evening, bothy ballads were sung. Being a very male environment some of these songs were bawdy indeed, but this one is a story song really about how you could be deceived by the promise of a fine healthy horse to work with, only to find it was skin and bone when you got to the farm.

The Barnyards of Delgaty by Gaberlunzie:


Another song we sang along to yesterday was this one, The Bonnie Lass O’ Fyvie which is all about the unrequited love of a captain of Irish dragoons for a beautiful Scottish girl. The place names are all so familiar as from our neck of the woods, so another one my mum really enjoyed. Both these songs are performed by the Scots folk duo Gaberlunzie who started out in the late ’60s and were still touring in 2018. Turns out their name is from the medieval Scots word for a licensed beggar.


Duncan the accordionist finished off with The Northern Lights of Old Aberdeen, a bit of a shmaltzy one this time, which all these years later still makes me homesick for my old stomping ground. I have such fond memories of living in Aberdeen during my late teens and twenties and of course I had my flat reunion there back in the summer (link here). My mum loves this song, so we did a little waltz, and I have to admit it all got a bit emotional for a myriad of reasons, but I quickly pulled myself together by the end. There are worse ways to spend a wet Thursday afternoon in November. Interestingly the first comment attached to this clip on the video-sharing website is very relevant to this post. It comes from kem10:

In my old job I used to help at a coffee morning which was run to help older adults who were socially isolated – in particular individuals with dementia. We would always play music and it was great to see folk light up and join in. This song was a particular favourite that EVERYONE got involved in and still knew all the words to.

‘It was great to see folk light up and join in.’ Exactly that.

The Northern Lights of Old Aberdeen by the Mill Weavers:


So, ‘What’s It All About?’ – The power of music, eh? If the worst comes to the worst, my generation will be listening to a very different set of tunes in the care home, but they will bring us much joy and we will no longer worry about the really big issues of the day as they will be for the next generation to sort out. We will of course be blamed for having caused them in the first place, and they’ll have a point. People often avoid going to visit relatives with dementia as it can be quite distressing, but it can also be great fun as I found this week. Use music as a tool to connect with them.

Folk music comes and goes in popularity, but it has always been around as it tells the story of our cultural and regional identity, as is the case with bothy ballads. I’ve only shared songs here from the North-East of Scotland but such songs are attached to all parts of the country. Do you have any local favourites you might not have warmed to as a youngster at all, but have come round to as you’ve ‘matured’?

The music of folk duo Simon & Garfunkel has appeared often around here, so I’m going to end with their version of the bothy ballad Pretty Peggy-O. Soldiers from Highland regiments often ended up in bothies, and encounters between soldiers and ‘innocent maids’ were commonplace, thus songs were written about them. The Peggy in this song taken from the Bonnie Lass ‘O Fyvie lyrics and the tune not dissimilar to the Barnyards song either. Lovely stuff.


Until next time…

The Barnyards O’ Delgaty Lyrics
(Song by Unknown – Traditional)

As I came in by Turra Market
Turra Market for to fee,
I fell in wi’ a wealthy farmer,
From the Barnyards O’ Delgaty.

Linten adie toorin adie,
Linten adie toorin ee,
Linten lowrin, lowrin, lowrin
The Barnyards O’ Delgaty

He promised me the two best horses
Ever I set my eyes upon;
When I got home to the Barnyards
There was nothing there but skin and bone.

When I go to the church on Sunday,
Many’s the bonnie lass I see,
Sitting by her faither’s side
And winking ower the pews at me.

Well I can drink and not be drunk
And I can fight and not be slain.
I can lie wi’ anothers man’s lass
And aye be welcome to my ain.

Months Of The Year In Song: Orange October

Welcome to this second instalment of my new series, where I plan to share songs relating to all 12 months of the year. I didn’t start in January but that’s ok as the months just keep rolling by in a continual loop, or so I thought until last month’s discovery that the calendar year used to have 10 months with a gap for an “unorganised winter”, which is why October is confusingly named after the Latin word for eight. In time that got sorted out and we now have the calendar we are familiar with where October is the 10th month, and what a month it is for those of us who live in the Northern Hemisphere. I don’t know about you but over the last couple of weeks I have been privileged to witness the leaves changing colour all around my neighbourhood and what a treat it’s been.

Last month in the comments boxes there was a bit of debate about September being the first month of autumn, as although meteorologically it is, it still feels like the tail end of summer (again I’m referring to those of us who live in the Northern Hemisphere – sorry if I’m alienating my Southern Hemisphere followers). But October is ‘proper autumn’ and what with the colour of the leaves, our warm woollen clothes back on rotation and Halloween making its presence felt at the end of the month, a very orange one indeed in terms of the hues.

But this is a music blog so where are the songs? Last month it became obvious that September songs are quite nostalgic and melancholy, but mainly because the month’s name rhymes with the word ‘remember’. October doesn’t rhyme with much so by default there are less songs that mention it. No matter, some great suggestions were put forward in the comments boxes last time, so I still have plenty of material.

First of all, both Lynchie and The Swede came up with this song for inclusion, October Song by the Incredible String Band. It wasn’t until I watched a recent documentary about the history of popular music in Scotland that I discovered this band. All the usual suspects were included, from Lulu to the Proclaimers but the Incredible String Band were new to me as from a bit before my time and not the kind of band that would have ever popped up on prime time telly when I was growing up. But despite sounding as if they had San Francisco origins, they actually hailed from Edinburgh, and were really successful during the period 1966 to 1974. As you will hear, they were pioneers of psychedelic folk and by fusing a wide variety of traditional music styles and instruments, helped develop world music. October Song was from their first album released in 1966 and it certainly is full of the imagery of autumn. Beautiful in its way but maybe not my thing.

The fallen leaves that jewel the ground
They know the art of dying
And leave with joy their glad gold hearts
In the scarlet shadows lying


Another suggestion came in from Rol who offered up October Swimmer by JJ72. The period that gets mentioned least around here is the turn of the millennium, as I think I was just so busy working, and being a mum to a small child. This could explain how I have absolutely no memory of this song or band at all despite the fact they did really well with it in 2000 and appeared on ToTP. No imagery of autumn this time just quite bleak lyrics, so thanks, but again not really my thing. The band was from Dublin and lead singer and songwriter Mark Greaney (he of the somewhat unusual voice) for a time lived next door to Phil Lynott of Thin Lizzy. Wonder if the young Mark had been inspired to get into music by Phil?

The splash of October swimmers
The cheers of Helsinki winners
My barbed bones of futility
Leaking marrow of ability


Another new discovery in this next clip and this time it came from Darcy. Here are his own words:

“Regarding October songs the only one that immediately comes to mind is Outubro by Azymuth. The album’s title track is very relaxing and fits the northern hemisphere September and early October vibe very well. There are no words, which you may want, and Azymuth are a Southern Hemisphere band which may mean they are going for a Spring feel, but I think it works for us Northerners too.”

Going a bit left field with this one, and an instrumental, but it follows on nicely from my last post which featured Sérgio Mendes & Brasil ’66. Azymuth are also from Brazil and are a jazz-funk trio that formed in 1973. Outubro is Portuguese for October, and as this series of songs relates to months of the year, not seasons, quite appropriate to include it. Very mellow and pretty like the theme music to many a ’70s television drama.


The final suggestion I’m going to include came from C of Sun-Dried Sparrows fame. She had done a bit of research and found something by Amy Winehouse called October Song. I too found that one but hard to work out if it has any connection to the month. Here’s what C came up with:

“Amy Winehouse had a track called October Song which was apparently written in memory of her pet canary… or was it about her use of marijuana? … both have been suggested!”

Sadly, we will now never know, and it can be hard to watch clips of the supremely talented Amy looking so healthy when we now know she only lived another seven years after this was filmed. Tragic, but like watching something in slo-mo, we could almost see it coming.


To be honest I’m not entirely sold on any of the above, but they do fit the remit of this series so happy to include them. Something that doesn’t fit the remit at all is this song by Bobby (Boris) Pickett and the Crypt-Kickers but as Halloween is almost upon us, time for a little Monster Mash I feel. This is the kind of song that popped up on Ed (Stewpot) Stewart’s Junior Choice when I was growing up and actually reached the No. 3 spot on the UK Singles Chart in 1973. Bobby Pickett co-wrote Monster Mash with Leonard Capizzi in May 1962. The song was a spoof on the dance crazes popular at the time, including the Twist and the Mashed Potato, which inspired the title. The song also featured Bobby’s impersonations of veteran horror stars Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi. This must be one of the few novelty records I haven’t tired of as I still find it quite good fun. Maybe just me though?

Monster Mash by Bobby (Boris) Pickett and the Crypt-Kickers:


So, ‘What’s It All About?’ – October is not it seems a month that lends itself to the writing of songs. There were plenty to choose from for September but kind of all over the place this time, what with psychedelic folk, alternative rock and jazz-funk putting in an appearance. Not all the lyrics even mention the month and only one song mentions nature and the falling of leaves.

For me, October is all about the falling leaves and the spectacular colour show natures gives us, but I suppose if you are a city dweller, the month might not conjure up those images. For some, October is all about Halloween, which isn’t a big deal for us nowadays but at DD’s abode she still likes to put up spooky decorations and invite friends over for a themed party. Why I decided to include that old favourite of a song.


Hopefully November will turn out to be a bit more inspirational when it comes to the writing of songs. As ever, your suggestions will be invaluable and gratefully received.

Until next time…

Monster Mash Lyrics
(Song by Bobby Pickett/Leonard Capizzi)

I was working in the lab, late one night
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight
For my monster from his slab, began to rise
And suddenly to my surprise

He did the mash, he did the monster mash
The monster mash, it was a graveyard smash
He did the mash, it caught on in a flash
He did the mash, he did the monster mash

From my laboratory in the castle east
To the master bedroom where the vampires feast
The ghouls all came from their humble abodes
To get a jolt from my electrodes

They did the mash, they did the monster mash
The monster mash, it was a graveyard smash
They did the mash, it caught on in a flash
They did the mash, they did the monster mash

The zombies were having fun
The party had just begun
The guests included Wolfman
Dracula, and his son

The scene was rockin’, all were digging the sounds
Igor on chains, backed by his baying hounds
The coffin-bangers were about to arrive
With their vocal group, ‘The Crypt-Kicker Five’

They played the mash, they played the monster mash
The monster mash, it was a graveyard smash
They played the mash, it caught on in a flash
They played the mash, they played the monster mash

Out from his coffin, Drac’s voice did ring
Seems he was troubled by just one thing
Opened the lid and shook his fist and said
“Whatever happened to my Transylvania Twist?”

It’s now the mash, it’s now the monster mash
The monster mash, and it’s a graveyard smash
It’s now the mash, it caught on in a flash
It’s now the mash, it’s now the monster mash

Now everything’s cool, Drac’s a part of the band
And my Monster Mash is the hit of the land
For you, the living, this mash was meant too
When you get to my door, tell them Boris sent you

Then you can mash, then you can monster mash
The monster mash, and do my graveyard smash
Then you can mash, you will catch on in a flash
Then you can mash, then you can monster mash

Wah-ooh, argh, monster mash, wah-ooh
Easy, Igor, you impetuous young boy
Argh, mash good, mm, argh
Monster mash, wah-ooh, monster mash, wah-ooh

That Revolving Door, A Return to the ‘60s and ‘Fool On The Hill’

WIAA: Alyson, oh Alyson…?

ALYSON: Yes, I am here WIAA, it’s just that I don’t even know how to start with this one. As I treat you as my web-diary as well as a place to share some of my favourite songs, I feel duty bound to pass comment on some of the political upheaval we’ve been faced with as a country over the last few weeks, but I’m sure everyone’s sick and tired of it by now.

WIAA: I have no idea what you’re talking about Alyson.

ALYSON: Ah, that would be because you’re a page on a blogging platform and as long as I can afford to keep paying your subscription fees, you needn’t worry your pretty little head over political infighting, leadership contests and the ‘crashing’ of the economy.


WIAA: It all sounds a bit worrying Alyson.

ALYSON: It’s more than that WIAA, it proves that the ‘systems’ we have in place are no longer fit for purpose and the new Prime Minister who will be in post by this time next week is quite possibly not going to make any better a fist of it than the previous four, yes four, we’ve had over the last six years. It’s all going horribly wrong WIAA, all over the world, and there are some REALLY big issues that need dealt with, but that involves REALLY big change which seems to be impossible to bring about.

WIAA: What about sharing a calming song, Alyson?

ALYSON: Good idea WIAA. Back when I was researching Sérgio Mendes for a previous post, I stumbled upon this cover from 1968. If you’re feeling a bit stressed and anxious by what’s going on in the world just listen to this, Fool on the Hill by Sérgio Mendes & Brasil ’66. I think I need to add it to my sidebar category ‘Balm For The Soul’, as it certainly acts as a balm for me. I just love the girls in this clip, their dresses, their hair, the way they carry themselves and that soft, understated style of delivery they have. Reminds me of the soundtracks to many a late ’60s film, such as The Graduate or Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

Fool On The Hill by Sérgio Mendes & Brasil ’66:


But of course, we all know that Fool on the Hill is a Lennon & MacCartney composition and just to be clear I didn’t choose the song because I was alluding to any particular ‘fool’ of today. I’m not that clever. It was a Paul song, and it probably related to a character such as the Beatles’ meditation teacher, Maharishi Mahesh Yogi – a solitary figure who was not understood by others but was actually quite wise, apparently. Let’s compare and contrast.

Fool on the Hill by the Beatles:

I seem to have shared more Beatles’ songs this year than in any other year since starting this blog. The Get Back documentary series that aired earlier this year made me fall in love with them all over again, after a good few years of deciding their music had become a bit over-familiar to my ears.

As for Sérgio’s sound, there is nothing like listening to Mas Que Nada on a cold and dreich Scottish Saturday (like today) to raise the mood. His version of Fool on the Hill is not so much a mood-raiser but a mood-calmer. Either way I have become a bit of a fan of the Brazilian maestro who is apparently still with us, so good for him. He is a contemporary of the Beatles but had a very different start in music, first training as a classical pianist at his local ‘conservatoire’. The Cavern Club and its ilk were not for him, but by 1968 here he was covering songs written by these Liverpool lads.

For any of my followers from outside the UK, no need to worry about what’s going on in our country. It’s all good, we know what we’re doing, and a new PM will be in place by this time next weekend sorting everything out. Britain is open for business and it’s all going to be grand. Yes… (big gulp), it’s all going to be grand.

Until next time…

The Fool On The Hill Lyrics
(Song by John Lennon/Paul McCartney)

Day after day, alone on a hill
The man with the foolish grin is keeping perfectly still
But nobody wants to know him
They can see that he’s just a fool
And he never gives an answer

But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning ’round

Well on the way, head in a cloud
The man of a thousand voices talking perfectly loud
But nobody ever hears him
Or the sound he appears to make
And he never seems to notice

But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning ’round

And nobody seems to like him
They can tell what he wants to do
And he never shows his feelings

But the fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning ’round

He never listens to them
He knows that they’re the fools
They don’t like him

The fool on the hill
Sees the sun going down
And the eyes in his head
See the world spinning ’round

Thoughts of the Week, The Dark Island and Highland Cathedral

I have been music blogging long enough by now to know which subject matters are best avoided – generally football, weddings and the Royal Family. I can’t however ignore the momentous news that our monarch of 70 years died last Thursday at her beloved home in Aberdeenshire, a place very close to my own heart. It came as a bit of a shock in the end, as only two days earlier she had carried out a very important piece of constitutional business, inviting the new leader of the Conservative Party to form a government. That has almost been forgotten about now.

Balmoral Castle in Aberdeenshire

Whatever your thoughts on the place of the monarchy in our national life, someone who was probably the most famous and recognised person in the world has left us, and news channels around the world are covering every step of what happens in the aftermath of such an event.

I seem to be alone in my little corner of the blogosphere, but I have been deeply affected by this massive change in the status quo. Prime Ministers come and go, recessions come and go, wars come and go, but throughout my lifetime the Queen has always been there, on the stamps, the money, giving Christmas broadcasts… . It’s a lot to take in that she is gone for good.

As someone who is a bit of a ‘quitter’ when the going gets tough, who found it hard to juggle work and motherhood, and who has not always kept her own counsel when it would have been wise to do so, I have always admired the many qualities the Queen had in spades. To have suddenly found herself thrust into the ‘big job’ at the tender age of 25 must have been frightening, especially as she was a mother to two young children at the time, but few can question her dedication and work ethic over the 70 years of her reign. There will never be another like her and I suspect things will change quite significantly, both at home and around the Commonwealth, now that she has gone.

The Queen’s coffin leaves Balmoral

Another reason why Mr WIAA and myself have been quite deeply affected by the Queen’s passing, is because we both also lost a parent quite suddenly, and have been reliving the raw emotion that came with it. My mother-in-law was abroad on holiday when she died, and my own dad went into hospital for a routine operation but didn’t ever wake up. They were both 25 years younger than the Queen was when they died – far too young. As for my own mum who now lives in a local care home, but who no longer recognises me, she is of the same generation as the Queen and all through the decades looked just like her. Because of the fashions of the day many of us probably say that about our mothers, but no, my mum always looked just like her. Not many of that wartime generation left now.

Because we have been reliving sad moments over the last few days, I am going to share the two pieces of music used at our own parents’ funerals. The first is called The Dark Island and it was the theme tune to a 1962 television series of the same name set in the Outer Hebrides. Mr WIAA’s parents were from different corners of England but they met whilst on holiday on the Isle of Skye in the 1950s and after watching this TV drama, once married with children, they decided to move to the Highlands of Scotland permanently. The second piece of music is called Highland Cathedral and is often heard at Scottish cultural events. We used it for my dad’s funeral but I hadn’t reckoned on choking up every time I now hear it, which is often.

The Dark Island by Leigh Garden:

Highland Cathedral:


So, ‘What’s It All About?’ – I don’t quite know why everyone has chosen to make no mention of the fact the Queen has died, and I might be committing ‘sidebar suicide’ by doing so, but this place is also my web-diary so it would be weird for me not to.

My place of birth has been showcased in all its glory over the last few days, and I hope others will appreciate why the Aberdeenshire countryside held such a special place in the Queen’s affections. Likewise, Scotland’s capital city, where we had a wonderful Blogger’s Summit earlier in the year, has never looked better. After today the focus will turn to London and all that that entails, but if it was her time, I think the Queen would have been content that she ended her days quietly in Scotland, the only Queen Elizabeth we ever had.


Until next time…


The Dark Island Lyrics
(Song by David Silver/Iain McLachlan)

Away to the westward, I’m longing to be
Where the beauties of heaven unfold by the sea
Where the sweet purple heather blooms fragrant and free
On a hill-top, high above the Dark Island

Oh Isle of my childhood I’m dreaming of thee
As the steamer leaves Oban, and passes Tiree
Soon I’ll capture the magic, that lingers for me
When I’m back, once more upon, the Dark Island

So gentle the sea breeze that ripples the bay
Where the stream joins the ocean, and young children play
On a strand of pure silver, I’ll welcome each day
And I’ll roam forever more, the Dark Island

True gem of the Hebrides, bathed in the light
Like a midsummer dawning, that follows the night
How I long for the cry, of the seagulls in flight
As they circle high above the Dark Island

Carole King and The Brill Building: Another Special Place In Time

We are nearing the end of summer, always a sad time of year for me. I’m a great fan of daylight and soon there will be more hours of darkness in any 24 hour period. All those activities best suited to the great outdoors will be on hold for another year, and we’ll be tucked up inside keeping cosy. Oh no, that’s right, this winter we’ll struggle to keep cosy as the thermostats will be firmly turned down, but hey, that’s another post for another day.

I’ve run quite a few ‘series’ since starting this place but I’m all out of workable ideas at the moment, which is a bit annoying, because I don’t have anything to return to and augment. As we are nearing the start of September I thought a series of posts about months of the year could be something to focus on (September seems to pop up often in a song title), but it turns out some of the other months have not been as inspirational for songwriters. Inevitably, one of the first songs I stumbled upon was this one by a very young Carole King, It Might as Well Rain Until September from 1962.

It Might as Well Rain Until September by Carole King:


I’ve always liked the song, although it’s not really about the month of September at all, but about how the world is no longer a beautiful place because the singer’s love interest is not around. As far as they are concerned the fine weather of the summer might as well be replaced with grey, rainy days. Thinking back I was often of the same opinion when I was a teenager (and this song was definitely aimed at teenagers), as the routines of term-time were often replaced with lots of time spent on your own, as your friends were either off on holiday with their families, or scattered around the country, the new academic year not starting again until September. If you’d found romance during term-time, the summer break was often not your friend.

But of course the Carole King that wrote this song with her husband Gerry Goffin, is not the same Carole King that has appeared on these pages before. That would be the Carole who by the early ’70s had moved to Laurel Canyon, Los Angeles, and had massive success with her 1971 album Tapestry. No indeed, this Carole was the girl from Brooklyn who was a bit of a musical genius and at age 16 had turned up at the Brill Building in Manhattan with a bunch of songs oven-ready for the teen market.


I have often heard of the Brill Building as back in the early ’60s, after Elvis had enlisted (and they thought rock ‘n’ roll was over) but before the British Invasion had begun, it was the place where songwriting teams flourished, producing hit after hit record. The ground floor of the building was home to the Brill family clothing store, but the upper floors were rented out to people in the music industry. Music publishers like Don Kirshner were based there and offices were kitted out with cubicles, each containing a piano, a bench and a chair where songwriters could partner up, one person writing the lyrics and the other coming up with the music. This was songwriting to order, but the songs were aimed at the lucrative new teen market and they were given to some of the many girl groups that had formed in New York City at that time (the Shirelles, the Shangri-Las, the Ronettes and the Chiffons) and also to many of the up-and-coming teen idols (Bobby Darin, Bobby Vee and Gene Pitney).

 The Brill Building is located at 1619 Broadway on 49th Street, in the NYC borough of Manhattan

Before starting this blog, I was often unaware of who had written a particular song as I had always been more interested in the artist who performed it. As time went by however the same names kept popping up, and many of those names were songwriting partnerships who first got together in the Brill Building:

Burt Bacharach and Hal David
Neil Sedaka and Howard Greenfield
Ellie Greenwich and Jeff Barry
Gerry Goffin and Carole King
Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil
Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller
Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman

A lot of famous faces in that montage above and impossible to name them all individually. To finish off I’ll add another couple of clips of songs that came to life in the Brill Building. I know I was bemoaning the end of summer in the opening paragraph, but today has indeed been a very fine, sunny day here in the North of Scotland. I don’t think that’s the kind of fine day The Chiffons were singing about in 1963 but a perfect example of the kind of songs Goffin and King were writing for the girl groups of the Brill Building.

One Fine Day by The Chiffons:


As this post has predominantly focussed on Carole King, it would seem silly not to end with the song Neil Sedaka wrote about her. They had both gone to the same high school in Brooklyn and had briefly dated (when she was still a Carol without the ‘e’). Oh! Carol was Neil’s first big domestic hit and the song also reached the No. 3 spot in the UK Singles Chart in 1959.

Oh! Carol by Neil Sedaka:


Yet again I’ve kind of gone way off piste on this one but once I’d listened to Carole’s September song I decided to find out more about that place in NYC which was a veritable music factory in the late ’50s/early ’60s. Most of us of a certain age have grown up listening to songs that we may or may not have known started life in The Brill Building. I like these posts where I actually take the time to find out geographically where these special places were/still are located. Right there in Midtown Manhattan it seems, just along from Tin Pan Alley where the sheet music of an earlier era had started life.

As for my series about songs referring to months of the year, I’ve not abandoned the idea yet, so if you do have any September songs you’d like me to write about, do let me know. For the record, the Earth, Wind and Fire one has popped up around here a couple of times before, but there will be others I’m sure.

Until next time…

It Might As Well Rain Until September Lyrics
(Song by Carole King/Gerry Goffin)

What shall I write?
What can I say?
How can I tell you how much I miss you?

The weather here has been as nice as it can be
Although it doesn’t really matter much to me
For all the fun I’ll have while you’re so far away
It might as well rain until September

I don’t need sunny skies for thing I have to do
‘Cause I stay home the whole day long and think of you
As far as I’m concerned each day’s a rainy day
So It might as well rain until September

My friends look forward to their picnics on the beach
Yes everybody loves the summertime
But you know darling while your arms are out of reach
The summer isn’t any friend of mine

It doesn’t matter whether skies are grey or blue
It’s raining in my heart ’cause I can’t be with you
I’m only living for the day you’re home to stay
So It might as well rain until September
September, September, oh
It might as well rain until September