We are now over a 1000 days on from this post and it seems as relevant as ever. In my original opening paragraph, I said that with only a day to go, many of us were still none the wiser as to which way to vote. That worked out well, didn’t it?
Short post, but with only a day to go, there should be no-one in the UK who doesn’t understand the significance of today’s clip. If the EU was our girlfriend this is how it would be playing out right now but despite the 24/7 debate and news coverage from both sides (all very balanced so as not to show any bias of course) many of us are still none the wiser as to which way to vote.
Should I Stay Or Should I Go by The Clash:
Not entirely sure why Angela Merkel and Co. haven’t been getting involved in the debate but it seems that they don’t want to affect the outcome one way or another, so are leaving it to the people of the UK themselves.
So, no tearful last minute pleadings – “It’s not you, it’s me”, “I think we just need a break” and “You’re too good for me”…
This time two weeks ago I was in Belfast. Whenever I have a wee trip, I usually end up writing one of my travelogue style posts (with a relevant song thrown in), so here I am finally getting round to it. Ironically, I was only able to go on this trip because my mum is still in hospital. The day before I left however there was a meeting with hospital staff, when I was told she wouldn’t be able to go home, ever, so a care home will have to be found. Problem is they are generally awful, and all of them have long waiting lists. Glad I managed to fit the trip in now, as a bit stressed at the moment rushing around viewing care homes and marshalling into place the eye-watering amounts of cash needed to pay for them.
But back to the matter in hand and a bit of background. Many years ago, when DD was just a wee tot, I used to head along to the local Mother and Toddler Group with her. These kind of things can be quite grim. A bit of a hit-or-miss. You are desperate for some interaction with other like-minded adults, but often all you have in common is that you have brought a small child into the world, and sometimes that’s just not enough. I did however make one good friend at our local group over 20 years ago. She lived around the corner from us, but as is wont to happen we moved to another part of town before DD went to school, and we kind of lost touch. A couple of years ago I made contact with her again, and we’ve started meeting up quite regularly. We just gel, and it’s such a shame we wasted so many years of potential friendship. Now that we’re making up for lost time, we decided to start having an annual trip together, during what we still call in Scotland, the “tattie holidays”. Last year it was Amsterdam (link here) and this year it was Belfast (both accessible from our local airport). As a great fan of alphabetisation, I can see we should look for a city starting with the letter C next year, and then D the year after, but it could get tricky, so we may have to rethink that plan!
A portrait of footballer George Best inside the airport
One of the murals with George and other familiar Belfast-born faces
We were very lucky in that the day we touched down at George Best City Airport the sun was shining, and after settling into our very central little apartment we headed off to explore the city. It certainly doesn’t have the unique history and current hip quality of Amsterdam, but of course it does have its very own history and seems to be a city well and truly on the up. The Good Friday Agreement has been in place for 20 years now, so although I remember the nightly news stories from Belfast at the height of The Troubles, there is a whole generation of young people who don’t even remember those dark days, and the population is quite dramatically on the rise again. The Peace Walls are due to come down in 2023 and much regeneration is going on within the city centre, so I really hope this pesky hiccup called Brexit (being sarcastic of course) is not going to jeopardise a lengthy period of calm for the city.
Central Belfast
Our apartment
Belfast City Hall at night
Cabaret Supper Club restaurant
Beacon of Hope statue or Nula with the Hoola!
Stormont
One thing we noticed straight away was that the residents of Belfast are very friendly. Whenever we looked a bit lost or disorientated (happened quite a lot), there was always a local at hand to help us out, offering great advice on which places to visit and where to eat. A ticket for the sight-seeing bus lasts 72 hours so that was our chosen method of transport and as it was one of those hop-on, hop-off affairs, we managed to take in a fair few of the sights – A trip out to Stormont, the seat of the Northern Ireland Assembly (which is sadly going through a period of suspension), a trip out to the new Titanic Experience building and of course, a journey around the many parts of the city where gable end political murals are very much part of the landscape. I did take some pictures, but won’t include them here, as I did find it discomforting being a tourist voyeur, paying to enjoy the spectacle of how these murals still mark out a city very much segregated by history and religion. The flags of the Union and of Ireland still adorn the streets in East and West Belfast, but most were looking a bit tattered and torn which I am hoping means no new ones are being put up to replace them. All being well the peace will continue to last, and with social media, young people who have been segregated through schooling will start to bond with other young people via shared interests, whatever their religion. Maybe I’m oversimplifying a complex issue here, but I am hopeful.
The Titanic Experience building – Combines the form of the prow of the ship and with its five wings, a White Star
Inside a First Class cabin
Inside the heroic orchestra leader’s Second Class compartment
But this is supposed to be a music blog so which songs can I serve up for your delectation? You may well have spotted that along with footballer George Best, “Van the Man” Morrison also appears on the large mural in the picture at the top of the page. A son of East Belfast, he has achieved great things in the world of music and seems to be as prolific as ever, his 40th album due to be released in December. My chosen Van Morrison song is going to be Brown Eyed Girl, which I know is kind of over-familiar to most folk now, but this is my blog and I still love it, so Brown Eyed Girl it’s going to be! Released as a single in June 1967, it is considered to be Van’s signature song.
Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison:
A band I always thought of as hailing from Belfast, were The Undertones. Turns out they weren’t, but from Derry instead. No matter, the fact they recorded this next featured song in Belfast makes it worthy of inclusion. Music lover, DJ and champion of unheard bands John Peel, had one pop song he regarded above all others. At his personal request Teenage Kicks was played at his funeral, and its opening line is inscribed on his gravestone. Released in October 1978 it only reached No. 31 in the UK Singles Chart but will be fondly remembered by so many.
So, “What’s It All About?” – Sometimes it’s just nice to get off the hamster wheel and spend a couple of days exploring new places with a good friend. It’s a long time since I’ve had such a close female friend, as Mr WIAA tends to be my go-to person for most things in life, but it’s been lovely having someone from outwith the family to spend time with (besides you guys of course whom I share everything with!).
As for my mum, her welfare is now in my hands and I am being thwarted at every turn. There are basically too few care home places, and every additional week she spends in hospital she is deteriorating, mentally. We can’t look after her 24 hours a day, and the only care home with places is a brand new, extortionately priced, private one. This I’m afraid, is how we are treating our old folk in the 21st century. Makes me very sad indeed.
Until next time….
Brown Eyed Girl Lyrics (Song by Van Morrison)
Hey, where did we go Days when the rains came ? Down in the hollow Playing a new game, Laughing and a-running, hey, hey, Skipping and a-jumping In the misty morning fog with Our, our hearts a-thumping And you, my brown-eyed girl, You, my brown-eyed girl.
Whatever happened To Tuesday and so slow Going down to the old mine with a Transistor radio. Standing in the sunlight laughing Hide behind a rainbow’s wall, Slipping and a-sliding All along the waterfall With you, my brown-eyed girl, You, my brown-eyed girl.
Do you remember when we used to sing Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah Just like that Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah La dee dah.
So hard to find my way Now that I’m all on my own. I saw you just the other day, My, how you have grown! Cast my memory back there, Lord, Sometime I’m overcome thinking about Making love in the green grass Behind the stadium With you, my brown-eyed girl, You, my brown-eyed girl.
Do you remember when we used to sing Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah Laying in the green grass Sha la la la la la la la la la la dee dah Dee dah dee dah dee dah dee dah dee dah dee Sha la la la la la la la la la la la la Dee dah la dee dah la dee dah la
Last time I shared a little film of my hometown, which highlighted just how blue the skies were on the first day of Spring. Since then, I have been feeling a bit nostalgic about the band ELO. That of course would be because the music I chose to accompany the film was, Mr. Blue Sky, from their 1977 album “Out of the Blue”. The cover for that particular album was very memorable for me, because it was one of the pieces of artwork that graced the walls of the very basic cottage I shared with my best friend the summer after leaving school.
We had headed off to work in a very posh country house hotel and luckily for us accommodation came with the job. It was basic indeed, but we had our first taste of independence, with no parents hovering over us querying our movements. Needless to say that summer we worked hard (being a breakfast waitress plus hotel jack-of-all-trades is a tough gig) but also played hard. Living off the beaten track, we built up a good working relationship with Diamond Doug, our local taxi-driver, who seemed to favour wearing a certain style of patterned jumper.
That summer, over the course of a weekend, it was not unusual to:
Work until 10pm.
Rush back to the cottage to change into our “going-out” clothes. (This being 1978 the previously under-used function suites of our local hotels had suddenly become kitted out with flashing dance floors and glitter balls as per the film Saturday Night Fever, but the clothes to match came later. That summer for us was still the summer of peasant skirts and broderie anglaise tops as worn by Linda Ronstadt et al.)
Get picked up by Doug who would take us to our destination of choice by 11pm.
Bop until 1am (hoping that the last dance of the night, to the refrains of The Commodores mega-ballad Three Times A Lady, would be with one of our local T-Bird equivalents, that name taken from the summer’s other film phenomenon, Grease).
Have a bit of a smooch with the aforementioned T-Bird (who for one summer only had decided that girls of the Sandy persuasion were perhaps preferable to those of the Rizzo persuasion) whilst waiting for Doug to come and drive us home again, just in time to grab around 3 hours of sleep before getting up and doing it all over again!
The T-Birds from Grease
The flashing dance floor from Saturday Night Fever
The Summer of ’78 summed up for an 18-year-old girl!
Phew, I’m exhausted just writing about that so am amazed that my younger self managed to actually live life at that pace. The energy of youth. But back to the album cover for “Out of the Blue”, my friend Catriona definitely had that one up on her side of our bedroom wall, and I had some of my favourites over on mine. Looking at my album collection now, I can still tell which ones they were as they have those tell-tale Blu Tack, or even worse, Sellotape marks on the covers. The vinyl itself must have been simply kept in the inner sleeve but was played constantly on the little mono record player I had brought from my parents’ house. It was the predecessor to the massive Toshiba Music Centre that had replaced it only 6 months previously, but I was never going to be allowed to take that with me, so the mono player it had to be.
Although our social life revolved around going dancing, we were both massive music fans and played anything and everything during our time off that summer. BBC Radio 1 woke us up and entertained us during the day but we also loved playing our records, and roped in friends and relatives to bring us new releases from record shops in the city when they came to visit. So, it was not only the soundtrack albums to Saturday Night Fever and Grease along with ELO and The Commodores we listened to that summer, oh no, it was also punk (Blondie, Sham 69), reggae (Bob Marley), pop and soft rock (Marshall Hain, Jackson Browne) and of course the obligatory novelty song (Father Abraham and the Smurfs).
I still have one of the singles that Catriona’s sister bought on my behalf that summer. They didn’t really have many other hits and were short lived indeed but there was something about The Motors song Airport that I really liked and whenever I hear it now, I always think of that summer at the cottage with our mono record player.
Airport by The Motors:
As for my friend, the single she had requested, and which was duly delivered by her sister was this one by Kate Bush. Yes, The Man with the Child in His Eyes was also a hit that summer but I have just discovered that Kate actually first recorded it in 1975 and had written it three years earlier at the age of 13. To quote the title of another of her songs – Wow!
So, “What’s It All About?” – Funnily enough, when I sat down to write this post it was going to be all about ELO; about how it was actually the brainchild of Roy Wood; about how he soon moved on but left Jeff Lynne and the others to create something really quite amazing, fusing modern rock and pop songs with classical instrumentation; about how Jeff’s partner for many years was the wonderful Rosie Vela whose song Magic Smile has been a bit of an earworm this week; but no, as is wont to happen, looking at the artwork for that ELO album cover just brought back so many memories of that wonderful summer.
The awful thing about reminiscing about the happenings of the summer of 1978 is that I can no longer talk about them with Catriona, as she died 16 years ago, leaving behind a husband and two young children. By then we were living on opposite sides of the Atlantic but if we ever got together, it was just like old times. I didn’t realise back then that I would never have such a close friendship with any other female, ever again. There have been many friends in the intervening years and some lovely friends are part of my life now, but how can you ever recreate what you had with the person you were closest to during those formative years, aged 16 to 20.
Before I go, here is a shot taken with my trusty Kodak Instamatic, of the little cottage Catriona and I shared that summer. Happy memories indeed of a very special person, who had her own magic smile. She made the world that little bit better for all of us who knew her and is sadly missed.
Our very basic cottage (garden needed a bit of tending!)
Until next time….
Airport Lyrics (Song by Andrew McMaster)
So many destination faces going to so many places Where the weather is much better And the food is so much cheaper. Well I help her with her baggage for her baggage is so heavy I hear the plane is ready by the gateway to take my love away. And I can’t believe that she really wants to leave me and it’s getting me so, It’s getting me so.
Airport – Airport, you’ve got a smiling face, you took the one I love so far away Fly her away – fly her away – airport. Airport, you’ve got a smiling face You took my lady to another place Fly her away – fly her away.
The plane is on the move, And the traces of the love we had in places Are turning in my mind – how I wish I’d been much stronger For the wheels are turning faster as I hear the winds are blowing and I know that she is leaving On the jet plane way down the runaway. And I can’t believe that she really wants to leave me – and it’s getting me so, It’s getting me so.
Airport – Airport, you’ve got a smiling face,…
Airport – Airport, you’ve got a smiling face,…
Postscript:
As luck would have it I found another entry in my 1978 journal where I’ve jotted down a short and snappy review of the the two big movies Catriona and I went to see that summer, one at the beginning and one right at the end. Again, embarrassing to read my words from back then (and my penmanship seems to have deteriorated) but interesting all the same. Yet again I seem to have not been particularly impressed with either of these films at the time, yet they are now two of my favourites movies of all time – The nonchalance of youth!
I have returned to this post to do a bit of drastic editing – It had ended up being the vehicle for a bit of a rant but it did get a tad too personal, so time to right that wrong. My rant was basically about how, for reasons outwith my control, my life has changed so much since this time last year when my blog was celebrating its first birthday – It has now just celebrated its second birthday, and has become a labour of love, but it does seem to have become one of the few constants in my life at the moment which is a bit worrying.
A Birthday Badge from the WordPress people
Any regulars to this place know that last year, after a drastic reorganisation at my workplace, I decided to leave for pastures new. That has turned out to be a bit more challenging than anticipated as I now also have an elderly parent to look after and certain age-related illnesses are fraught with logistical and financial challenges. It prompted me to search for songs about such situations and it turns out there are several – Here is a beautiful one with really touching lyrics written by Elvis Costello about his grandmother, Veronica.
After pontificating about all sorts of other issues which covered the muddled state of Social Care for older people, the soulless environment of the modern day office, student debt, the housing crisis and a dearth of youngsters taking up trades, it occurred to me that I should instead think of things to be cheerful and upbeat about. Life could be so much worse, it’s just that I’m feeling a bit aggrieved at how things have changed so much since this time last year – All part of life’s rich tapestry I suppose. One 1979 song that is chock-full of reasons to be cheerful is, obviously, Reasons to be Cheerful, Part 3 by Ian Dury and The Blockheads.
Reasons to be Cheerful, Part 3 by Ian Dury and The Blockheads:
Some great lines in this song and listening to it again just now, they have all come flooding back. Here are a few that I think scan the best.
Health service glasses, gigolos and brasses.
Elvis and Scotty, the days when I ain’t spotty.
Take your mum to Paris, lighting up a chalice, Wee Willie Harris….
I have always had a soft spot for the cartoonish character that was Ian Dury. He had a tough start in life having contracted polio at the age of seven but his wonderful lyrics combining lyrical poetry, word play, observation of everyday life and character sketches have produced some quintessentially British songs. The Blockheads‘ sound came from its members’ diverse musical influences, which included jazz, rock ‘n’ roll, funk, reggae, and Ian Dury’s love of music hall. I remember well being blown away by Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick when it came along just before Christmas 1978, during my first year at University. Back in school, it was only the boys who knew about Ian Dury, now there was no escaping him. Sadly Ian died when he was only 57, but he has left us with a colourful back catalogue of songs and his many film roles mean that you just never know when he might pop up on telly next.
So, “What’s It All About?” – Life can be a bit sh*t sometimes but we just have to weather the storm and make plans for when things get better. My favourite pastime at the moment is to go to the cinema as for a couple of hours you are offered up a slice of escapism, with no phone to disturb you. My second favourite thing is my blog, another place to escape, and a labour of love. I read a lot of the comments left yesterday on Rol’s site by JC, The Vinyl Villain – In one of them he mentioned that blogging is a vocation and I get that now. There is no money in it but I couldn’t stop now if I wanted to. I had thought I should go on hiatus for a while but I see now that blogging is indeed therapy and I need that right now. Time to conjure up a few more of those reasons to be cheerful perhaps – Any suggestions for Part 4?
Reasons to be Cheerful, Part 3 Lyrics (Song by Ian Dury/Charles Jankel/David Payne)
Why don’t you get back into bed? Why don’t you get back into bed? Why don’t you get back into bed? Why don’t you get back into bed? Why don’t you get back into bed? Why don’t you get back into bed? Why don’t you get back into bed? Why don’t you get back into bed? Why don’t you get back into bed? Why don’t you get back into bed?
Reasons to be cheerful, part three 1, 2, 3
Summer, Buddy Holly, the working folly Good golly, Miss Molly and boats Hammersmith Palais, the Bolshoi Ballet Jump back in the alley and nanny goats Eighteen wheeler Scammells, Dominica camels All other mammals plus equal votes Seeing Piccadilly, Fanny Smith and Willie Being rather silly and porridge oats A bit of grin and bear it, a bit of come and share it You’re welcome we can spare it, yellow socks Too short to be haughty, too nutty to be naughty Going on forty no electric shocks The juice of a carrot, the smile of a parrot A little drop of claret, anything that rocks Elvis and Scotty, the days when I ain’t spotty Sitting on a potty, curing smallpox
Reasons to be cheerful, part three Reasons to be cheerful, part three Reasons to be cheerful, part three Reasons to be cheerful, one, two, three
Reasons to be cheerful, part three, verse two
Health service glasses, gigolos and brasses Round or skinny bottoms Take your mum to Paris, lighting up a chalice Wee Willie Harris Bantu Steven Biko, listening to Rico Harpo Groucho Chico Cheddar cheese and pickle, a Vincent motorsickle Slap and tickle Woody Allen, Dali, Domitrie and Pascale Balla, balla, balla and Volare Something nice to study, phoning up a buddy Being in my nuddy Saying okey-dokey, sing-a-long a Smokie Coming out of chokie John Coltrane’s soprano, Adie Celentano Beuno Colino
Reasons to be cheerful, part three Reasons to be cheerful, part three Reasons to be cheerful, part three Reasons to be cheerful, one, two, three
What about a, what about a, what about a, what about a, What about a, what about a, what about a, what about a, What about a, what about a, what about a, what about a, What about a, what about a what?
Yes, yes, dear, dear perhaps next year Or maybe even never In which case…
Woody Allan, Dali, Domitrie and Pascale Balla, balla, balla and Volare Something nice to study, phoning up a buddy Being in my nuddy Saying okey-dokey, sing-a-long a Smokie Coming out a chokie John Coltrane’s soprano, Adie Celentano Beuno Colino
Reasons to be cheerful, part three Reasons to be cheerful, part three Reasons to be cheerful, part three Reasons to be cheerful, one, two, three
Last time I perhaps foolishly put out a request for featured song suggestions – My previous post (link here) had featured two songs from the Gamble & Huff stable in Philadelphia, Year Of Decision by The Three Degrees and Back Stabbers by the O’Jays. As ever however, you didn’t disappoint. There were quite a few Should I Stay Or Should I Go suggestions but that particular Clash song featured here last year (link here), as part of my “pre-EU Referendum going-to-the-polls” post. (We all did one let’s face it and I’m just glad that over a year on, everything is progressing so well on that front, with negotiations going swimmingly!) Other suggestions were mainly for songs I didn’t really know or for another song by the same artist so I decided to plump for this one, Rip It Up by Orange Juice (that suggestion from Rol over at My Top Ten).
Rip It Up By Orange Juice:
Every now and again a particular city seems to be at the epicentre of things, musically speaking, and in the early 1980s that city seemed to be Glasgow. The independent Postcard Records, started in a tenement flat bedroom, spawned many fine acts, two of which were Edwyn Collins’ Orange Juice and Roddy Frame’s Aztec Camera. Postcard Records didn’t last long but both of these bands were soon signed by bigger labels and started making headway in the charts. In 1983 the single Rip It Up made it to No. 8 in the UK Singles Chart which was their only top 40 success, something that surprises me. This single was less post-punk than their earlier material and they used synthesisers to create a more disco-oriented sound. Edwyn went on to become a solo artist and had a worldwide hit in 1994 with A Girl Like You. There also can’t be many people who don’t know that Edwyn suffered two cerebral haemorrhages in 2005 which resulted in a long period of rehabilitation – A documentary film on his recovery, entitled The Possibilities Are Endless, was released in 2014. He now lives on the old family croft in Sutherland, north of where I am, and has his own recording studio up there. His speech is still affected, but when he sings it all magically comes together – The power of music.
I did try and put together a list of all those bands that came out of Glasgow in the late ’70s/early ’80s, but just too many to mention, and if you’re here already you probably know who I’m talking about anyway – Suffice to say there were many. I always remembered Claire Grogan from the band Altered Images, saying in an interview, that when they travelled south to London in those days to record TOTP it was a bit of a home from home, as half the dressing rooms were filled with bands they knew well from their home city. Altered Images also fitted into that post-punk genre when they started out, although like Orange Juice soon started making headway in the charts reaching No. 7 in 1983 with this fine song, Don’t Talk To Me About Love. The “pop pixie” Claire only needed a big baggy top, a pair of dangly earrings, a quick blow-dry at the hairdressers and some gold eyeshadow to make us all fall in love with her back then. So much more demure than the pop princesses of today, and for me, much sexier – Just sayin’ girls!
Don’t Talk To Me About Love by Altered Images:
But of course for people of my generation, and specifically Scottish people I imagine, Claire Grogan is best remembered for playing Susan in Bill Forsyth’s wonderful coming-of-age romantic comedy Gregory’s Girl. If like me you went to a straight down the middle, semi-modern state secondary school (usually called an academy), this film will resonate in so many ways. All the stereotypes were present – The gangly and awkward Gregory (played by John Gordon Sinclair), his socially inept friends (think the Inbetweeners 40 years ago), the football obsessed PE teacher, the more mature and business-savvy Steve who offers dating advice (and baked goods), the confident and sporty Dorothy, and last but not least, the slightly quirky but impossibly cute Susan.
This film was made in 1980. I left school in the summer of 1978, but little had changed, and when I went to see it all those fond memories came flooding back. I realise now in later life that I was one of the lucky ones as my schooldays were charmed, full of fun, friends and laughter (and hard work of course). Like in the film, the machinations that took place between girls in order to contrive an evening date “up the country park” (heady stuff), were something to behold. Also what was it with Scottish schools and football? At our school, all other sports were pretty much side-lined as the focus of attention was on getting as many boys as possible into the prestigious North of Scotland Select – Our school was so focussed on this goal (no pun intended) that we had five boys at one point in that team and when school-boyfriend scored the winning goal in a grudge match with the South of Scotland, he huffed for a week when I wasn’t suitably impressed. (I was a very bad girlfriend.)
I still really enjoy watching this film now, and never tire of it – The music by Colin Tully recorded for the title sequence was just perfect and I can’t listen to the sound of that wonderful saxophone without having a massive pang of nostalgia for my schooldays – I know it doesn’t happen this way for everyone but my schooldays really were the best days of my life, yet I didn’t realise it at the time, which is sad. (I’m not of course saying it’s all been rubbish since, but as an adult there are always pesky responsibilities and worries which detract from that feeling of pure happiness.)
Listening to the clip again, I am back in 1978, cheering on the football team and organising dates for unsuspecting “Gregorys”. Time to sign off for today before I get too teary!
Rip It Up Lyrics (Song by Edwyn Collins)
When I first saw you Something stirred within me You were standing sultry in the rain If I could’ve held you I would’ve held you Rip it up and start again
Rip it up and start again Rip it up and start again I hope to God you’re not as dumb as you make out I hope to God I hope to God And I hope to God I’m not as numb as you make out I hope to God I hope to God
And when I next saw you My heart reached out for you But my arms stuck like glue to my sides If I could’ve held you I would’ve held you But I’d choke rather than swallow my pride Rip it up and start again
Rip it up and start again Rip it up and start again I hope to God you’re not as dumb as you make out I hope to God I hope to God And I hope to God I’m not as numb as you make out I hope to God I hope to God
And there was times I’d take my pen And feel obliged to start again I do profess That there are things in life That one can’t quite express You know me I’m acting dumb-dumb You know this scene is very humdrum And my favourite song’s entitled ‘boredom’
Rip it up and start again I said rip it up and start again I said rip it up and rip it up and rip it up and rip it up and rip it up and start again
Welcome to this occasional series where I will very embarrassingly, share the contents of my archive box of teenage memorabilia. I always knew these random bits and pieces would come in handy some day, but little did I think back in the 1970s that they would find their way onto such a thing as a “blog” thanks to Sir Tim Berners-Lee and his little invention, the world wide web!
Back in 1978 I used to keep a journal. Here is the extract from Friday, March the 3rd, the day I’d gone in to Aberdeen with the school boyfriend (sbf) to watch Eddie and the Hot Rods at the Capitol Theatre. The Capitol was used as a cinema most of the time but between the mid ’70s and mid ’80s I went to see an awful lot of acts perform there. Eddie and the Hot Rods were the only band on the bill that night who’d had much chart success to date, having got to No. 9 in the UK Singles Chart with Do Anything You Wanna Do in August, 1977. The two support acts were Radio Stars and an unheard of, fledgling band called Squeeze.
Eddie and the Hot Rods
Radio Stars
Squeeze
If you can read the extract below you will see that I was a very “proper” and not very “cool” teenager (who also didn’t have brilliant writing skills it seems) but hey, I was wearing my new-fangled straight-legged trousers and was still flushed with the success of having won the prize for “Best Pogoing” at our local Community Centre (documented here) so despite my misgivings about punk concerts, it turned out to be a good night. Interesting also to note that the ticket cost only £2.50 but looking back that was what I earned from my Saturday job, working a whole day in a shop – It’s all relative.
The strange thing is that in later life we seem to develop a selective memory based on subsequent events and I had always thought that the standout act that night was Squeeze – Looking back at my journal entry, the verdict was that “they weren’t bad”. How bizarre as down the line they became one of my favourite bands and Up The Junction is still one of my all-time favourite songs.
Eddie and the Hot Rods were apparently “very good” and we had “no qualms about jumping up and down pogoing”, although it was “an exhausting occupation” (it’s all just so embarrassing). I don’t really think that in the annals of punk, Eddie and the Hot Rods will be remembered as one of that movement’s biggest movers and shakers – They were more of a pub rock band from Canvey Island but I suppose back in 1977, they did fit that whole “new wavey” mould quite well.
It seems that the band I most enjoyed that night were the Radio Stars and looking at the picture of them now, I still remember the showmanship of their lead singer, Andy Ellison. He had bleached blond hair and certainly knew how to work the crowd – I remember how he effortlessly meandered through the audience, niftily navigating his way across the back of the seats in the stalls. Their minor hit record Nervous Wreck also went down well that night and funny how my memories of that night are so at odds with how the respective careers of each of these bands evolved. I don’t know if it’s just me but looking at him now, does he have a hint of the Joe Brown about him?
But I can’t leave it there, for although it seems I didn’t think that much of Squeeze that particular night, they went on to become one of the UK’s best-loved bands. The vast majority of their songs were written by Chris Difford and Glenn Tilbrook, but of course the band Squeeze also spawned one Jools Holland, who seems to have become a bit of a National Treasure and whose annual New Year’s Eve Hootenanny is watched by millions. During the height of their popularity in the late ’70s/early ’80s they had hits with such classics as Cool for Cats,Slap and Tickle, Another Nail in My Heart, Pulling Mussels (from the Shell), Tempted, Labelled with Love, Black Coffee in Bed and Hourglass, as well as the aforementioned Up The Junction.
It was with great joy therefore, whilst watching live footage from Glastonbury this year, that I managed to catch Chris and Glenn pop up as guests in the outdoorsy green room area where Mark Radcliffe and (my other girl crush) Jo Whiley usually reside. They performed a very alternative version of Up The Junction complete with a band of kazoo players – This clip has appeared in my little corner of the blogosphere before but well worth another outing I feel.
Up The Junction (original version) by Squeeze:
So, “What’s It All About?” – Funny how we have a selective memory when it comes to reminiscing about the music of our youth. Just as Fred Astaire’s first audition went badly and notes were made to the effect, “Can’t act, can’t sing, slightly bald, can dance a little”, my diary entry from March ’78 was less than complimentary about Squeeze. Fortunately I soon saw the light and became a big fan down the line – I must have just been far too dazzled on the night by the energetic antics of Joe Brown lookalike Andy Ellison, to really concentrate on the talents of Messrs Difford and Tilbrook. That of course and all the pogoing – “An exhausting occupation”!
Up The Junction Lyrics (Song by Chris Difford/Glenn Tilbrook)
I never thought it would happen With me and the girl from Clapham Out on the windy common That night I ain’t forgotten When she dealt out the rations With some or other passions I said “you are a lady” “Perhaps” she said. “I may be”
We moved in to a basement With thoughts of our engagement We stayed in by the telly Although the room was smelly We spent our time just kissing The Railway Arms we’re missing But love had got us hooked up And all our time it took up
I got a job with Stanley He said I’d come in handy And started me on Monday So I had a bath on Sunday I worked eleven hours And bought the girl some flowers She said she’d seen a doctor And nothing now could stop her
I worked all through the winter The weather brass and bitter I put away a tenner Each week to make her better And when the time was ready We had to sell the telly Late evenings by the fire With little kicks inside her
This morning at four fifty I took her rather nifty Down to an incubator Where thirty minutes later She gave birth to a daughter Within a year a walker She looked just like her mother If there could be another
And now she’s two years older Her mother’s with a soldier She left me when my drinking Became a proper stinging The devil came and took me From bar to street to bookie No more nights by the telly No more nights nappies smelling
Alone here in the kitchen I feel there’s something missing I’d beg for some forgiveness But begging’s not my business And she won’t write a letter Although I always tell her And so it’s my assumption I’m really up the junction
Welcome to this occasional series where I am attempting a virtual journey around the 50 States of America in song – Suggestions for the next leg always welcome!
Well, I seem to have enjoyed my time in Vermont so much I stayed there for over a week! Time to move on again though and this time we’re heading down into Massachusetts (tricky to spell as was pointed out last time), named after its indigenous people.
The random fact element of this post will have to be brief this time as more songs to get through than has been the case to date. Suffice to say it was where the Pilgrim Fathers settled after arriving on The Mayflower in 1620. They formed the Plymouth Colony and after a tough first winter, with the help of the local Wampanoag people, learnt how survive by growing corn. They then held a three day Thanksgiving event to celebrate their first harvest and that celebration of course still goes on today.
The island of Nantucket, more famous now for its beaches and holiday cottages, was home to the whaling trade back in the 18th century and the tale of Moby-Dick was set there. That infamous Tea Party occurred in Boston, but being British I’ll gloss over that one. I am reminded however that our own Alex Harvey put that story to song in 1976 with his version of The Boston Tea Party.
The Kennedy compound was at Hyannis Port in Massachusetts, presided over by dad Joe and mother Rose. Education is big business in Massachusetts and the city of Cambridge is home to both Harvard and the research institute, MIT. In popular culture the film Jaws was set there, mostly filmed on Martha’s Vineyard.
But which song to feature this time? I know that everyone expects it to be this one and it would be remiss of me not to include it, but not one of my favourite Bee Gee songs, and at the time of writing it they had never even been to Massachusetts. It was 1967, the year of The Summer of Love, and the hippies were all heading west to San Francisco so it felt as if here on the East Coast it was time to switch the lights out, as everyone had left. I remember well watching them perform this song on TOTP as a child but didn’t realise until later that the twins Robin and Maurice were aged only 17 at the time. So young but already so prolific.
Massachusetts by The Bee Gees:
Thanks go out again to my blogging buddies who offered up suggestions for songs associated with Massachusetts (links to their blogs on my sidebar). Rol came up with Feelin’ Massachusetts by the Juliana Hatfield Three and Massachusetts Avenue by Amanda Palmer. Both he and Lynchie came up with the Steely Dan song The Boston Rag, although to be fair Lynchie decided that he was allowed to call them simply The Dan as he had been a fan right from the beginning.
Before I get down to the actual featured song for this state, how would you like to come for a quick drink with me in a great bar I know called Cheers? It’s right here in Boston and for the guys who go there, it’s like their “blogosphere” – Nice to be in a place Where Everybody Knows Your Name.
Making your way in the world today takes everything you’ve got. Taking a break from all your worries, sure would help a lot. Wouldn’t you like to get away? Sometimes you want to go Where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came. You wanna be where you can see, our troubles are all the same You wanna be where everybody knows Your name.
So, lots of suggestions already, but for this post it could only really be the one that came in from both CC and C (no relation) – Roadrunner by Massachusetts natives Jonathan Richman and The Modern Lovers, first recorded in 1972 but a hit for them in 1977, when all of a sudden their proto-punk sound fitted the “times” perfectly. I don’t know what I was doing during my teenage years but it certainly doesn’t seem to have been listening to the lyrics of songs properly as until CC pointed out the whole Jonathan Richman/New England connection when I started this series, the Roadrunner I remembered best from those days was this one!
No matter, it has now clicked and the Massachusetts comedian John Hodgman came out saying that the song was, “Woven as deeply into the cultural landscape of Massachusetts as the Turnpike itself. It is the pulsing sound of the night and the future. It connects the midnight ride of Paul Revere with the dream of every Massachusetts teenager who has just gotten their license and is discovering the Freedom Trail that is Route 128 after the last movie lets out“.
Roadrunner by Jonathan Richman and The Modern Lovers:
This song came out the summer I turned 17 and after a few disastrous driving lessons with my dad (who in every other walk of life was patience personified), I gave up. The boys who were the same age however did not, and one by one they passed their driving tests and acquired “wheels”. We lived in the country and just like Jonathan Richman and his buddies, these local boys became weekend roadrunners. They had no particular place to go but the radio was on and they just wanted to hang out with friends and burn some rubber. Needless to say, every couple of years or so there was a tragic car crash and some of them didn’t make it. Fortunately all my close friends did get through that phase unscathed but the village cemetery is sadly littered with the graves of those who did not.
Next time we’ll travel into the smallest of the 50 states, Rhode Island. I do have a song idea for that one of my own but definitely “tenuous” so again I would be really grateful for any other suggestions connected in some way to that state (you know where the comments boxes are). We’re still in New England but are now getting ever closer to New York where I now realise there will have to be a Part 1 and a Part 2. Songs about Rhode Island – not so much. Songs about New York – where does it end?
Until next time….
Roadrunner Lyrics (Song by Jonathan Richman)
One-two-three-four-five-six! Roadrunner, roadrunner Going faster miles an hour Gonna drive past the Stop ‘n’ Shop With the radio on I’m in love with Massachusetts And the neon when it’s cold outside And the highway when it’s late at night Got the radio on I’m like the roadrunner
Alright I’m in love with modern moonlight 1:28 when it’s dark outside I’m in love with Massachusetts I’m in love with the radio on It helps me from being alone late at night Helps me from being lonely late at night I don’t feel so bad now in the car Don’t feel so alone, got the radio on Like the roadrunner That’s right
Said welcome to the spirit of 1956 Patient in the bushes next to ’57 The highway is your girlfriend as you go by quick Suburban trees, suburban speed And it smells like heaven, I say Roadrunner once Roadrunner twice I’m in love with rock & roll and I’ll be out all night Roadrunner That’s right
Well now Roadrunner, roadrunner Going faster miles an hour Gonna drive to the Stop ‘n’ Shop With the radio on at night And me in love with modern moonlight Me in love with modern rock & roll Modern girls and modern rock & roll Don’t feel so alone, got the radio on Like the roadrunner O.K. now you sing Modern Lovers
(Radio On!) I got the AM (Radio On!) Got the car, got the AM (Radio On!) Got the AM sound, got the (Radio On!) Got the rockin’ modern neon sound (Radio On!) I got the car from Massachusetts, got the (Radio On!) I got the power of Massachusetts when it’s late at night (Radio On!) I got the modern sounds of modern Massachusetts I’ve got the world, got the turnpike, got the I’ve got the, got the power of the AM Got the, late at night, hit ’em wide, rock & roll late at night The factories and the auto signs got the power of modern sounds Alright
During my recent hiatus when I took a fortnight off to catch up with other things, a long list developed of all the stories/songs I thought would make for a good post when I got back to business as usual. Since last Sunday, when I took to a bit of “tipsy blogging” (it’s a thing), I have published four new posts so I think I’m back into my groove again. Time therefore to refer to this long list, and the first item noted is: Punk, Dance Competitions and Bubble Bath. Hmm… cryptic indeed.
Now whenever I touch on new wave, punk or ska, I see a marked spike in the number of views I get but I realise most of these people will have stumbled upon this place by accident and might be sorely disappointed when they find my twee little ramblings. If you are one of those people please don’t be deterred – My thinking is that anyone who lived through the punk explosion of the late ’70s will, at best, be middle-aged now and any stories of those days have a nostalgia factor, and are part of social history.
A couple of months ago I wrote about how the mainstream musical landscape of Britain changed in the autumn of 1977 (Punk, Late ’70s Fashion and The Wrong Trousers). Tony Parsons wrote a great book about those times called Stories We Could Tell but also associated with this change was the shape of our trousers! I’m sorry to keep coming back to stories about trousers (I have another waiting in the wings about leather trousers as it happens) but I cannot emphasise enough how important it was in those days to look the part. We’d already had the infamous television interview with the Sex Pistols where Bill Grundy foolishly goaded them into uttering those childish profanities – The upshot however was that Bill lost his job and single-handedly elevated punk rock into the mainstream. Mr Rotten on the other hand is still making lots of money starring in adverts for butter, so who ended up looking silliest in the end (ok so it’s still Johnny but he apparently does them to finance PiL tours so fair do’s)?
The infamous interview!
But back to the autumn of 1977. Although punk had been around for a while by then, the music played on most radio stations still tended to be a mixture of soft rock, soul and disco. When we went back to school however to start 6th Year, things were definitely a-changin’. I had completed those important life-changing exams needed to get into University so 6th Year was going to be a bit of a blast to be honest where we took a few subjects for “interest”, did good works for the community and represented the school at various events. Best of all however was that we had our own common room where for the first time, boys and girls hung out togetherbetween classes. We were practically adults by this time so instead of the silliness that goes on between the sexes in the lower years (the more insults a boy throws your way the more he likes you etc), we all got on really well and needless to say quite a few romances were kindled, some of which have even stood the test of time. My romance did not stand the test of time, but no matter, life was good and instead of hanging out with our girlfriends we spent all our time with our new boyfriends, who only of course wanted to listen to punk rock. By default therefore, so did we!
This very spartan 6th Year common room (complete with an urn for coffee-making no less) was the centre of our universe and when a record player was taken in, a lot of vinyl-swapping went on. (Yes it was the 1970s but we weren’t married yet so it wasn’t wife-swapping.) One of the albums of choice was Elvis Costello‘s “My Aim Is True” and of course one of the songs on it was (still is) called Alison so very apt for my good self – Indeed life just couldn’t get any better. My best friend at the time was a girl called Sheena and lo and behold we also had The Ramoneswith Sheena Is A Punk Rocker – Anyone who knew Sheena could not in all seriousness have called her a punk rocker, she was Head Girl, but we all loved this music, partly because the boys loved it but also because it was new and exciting.
Alison by Elvis Costello:
In the November of that year there was to be a big dance in our local Community Centre for all the kids aged 17 and under. Just like now there were plenty of adults and community leaders who wanted to supervise such an event – Oh that’s right, no-one for over 20 years has even contemplated supervising such a thing. Very sad for the youngsters of today and my daughter must have got fed up of me telling her how much was laid on for us as teenagers, when she had nothing.
Anyway, this dance was going to have the local band play for us – Lets call them Pyramid (because that was their name). I had seen Pyramid play often as they were usually the band of choice for such events and did a pretty good job of playing cover versions of songs by The Eagles, Ace (remember them), Smokie and so on. We pretty much knew what we were turning up for so the new-fangled straight legged trousers were left at home and the 36 inch flares, wedge-heeled shoes and big-collared, checked shirts were the outfits of choice for that night – A last harrah for them before being relegated to the….. Was going to say charity shop but we didn’t really have them in those days, I think we just wore our clothes until they fell apart. Imagine our surprise therefore after arriving at the venue, to discover that Pyramid had turned into a punk band overnight! Yes, for the next three hours we were treated to the music of The Stranglers, the Sex Pistols, Elvis and his Attractions, Tom Robinson and The Clash. Looking back I think they must have repeated the same songs over and over again but whatever they did, the new boyfriend and I discovered pogoing that night. Certain styles of music make you want to dance in a certain way, and with punk, it definitely made you want to jump up and down.
The bizarre thing of course was that we were pogoing in full American country rock uniform, so it was a real anachronism – Also with all that denim flapping about we got really, really hot so after a few hours of jumping up and down, the time came for us to head off for a (non-alcoholic) beverage. We were casually rehydrating when a call went out that we were needed on stage, as we had won the prize for “Best Pogoing”. Now we certainly didn’t know there was any competition going on and we didn’t know there was going to be a prize but the Community Centre management in their wisdom had planned such a thing, and we were the winners.
So, aged 17, dressed in wide flares, the new boyfriend and I headed up onto a stage in a large draughty sports hall in the North of Scotland, to be presented with prizes for “Pogoing”. Pyramid (ex soft rock turned punk rock band) did the honours and what did the prizes turn out to be? A “His & Hers” gift set – Cufflinks and a Pen for him and Bubble Bath and Smellies for her. Even at that age I found this hilarious – The punk attitude obviously hadn’t quite reached our neck of the woods yet.
As for this song, it still gives me goosebumps as I remember those times. A couple of the friends are no longer even with us, so this one’s for them – If there is an internet in heaven, you are not forgotten.
Alison Lyrics (Song by Declan Patrick MacManus)
Oh it’s so funny to be seeing you after so long, girl. And with the way you look I understand that you are not impressed. But I heard you let that little friend of mine take off your party dress. I’m not going to get too sentimental like those other sticky valentines, ’cause I don’t know if you’ve been loving somebody. I only know itisn’t mine. Alison, I know this world is killing you. Oh, Alison, my aim is true.
Well I see you’ve got a husband now. Did he leave your pretty fingers lying in the wedding cake? You used to hold him right in your hand. I’ll bet he took all he could take. Sometimes I wish that I could stop you from talking when I hear the silly things that you say. I think somebody better put out the big light, cause I can’t stand to see you this way.
Alison, I know this world is killing you. Oh, Alison, my aim is true. My aim is true.
Wrote a very serious post last time so a bit of a change is called for I think. If like me you were aged around seventeen in 1977, you will remember that not only did the musical landscape change quite dramatically that year, so did the trousers!
As we had entered the ’70s, trousers still had a hint of the ’60s about them. They could even be ordered from the music papers and were called “loon pants”. As the decade progressed we often copied the fashion sense of our favourite pop stars and wore flared velvet or satin trousers, as worn by Marc Bolan and Rod Stewart. When Scotland became responsible for the latest teen “mania” by producing those boys-next-door The Bay City Rollers, some of us even took to having a stripe of tartan down the side of our trousers (but not me just to be clear).
Marc Bolan
The Bay City Rollers
In 1976, a stroke of marketing genius by the Brutus Clothing Company made their jeans the must-have brand. David Dundas sang the song for their advert, then had a hit with it later on that year reaching No. 3 in the UK Singles Chart. The song was simply called Jeans On and the lyric was changed from “Pull my Brutus jeans on” in the advert to “Pull my old blue jeans on” for the single. Of course I had to have a pair and the must-have top to go with them that year was a cropped, cheesecloth shirt that tied at the midriff. Of course this was not the kind of outfit that parents were too keen on seeing their daughters head off into the night wearing (those were more demure days), so a long jacket was always worn until you made it to the end of your street, after which the jacket came off and went into the (coincidentally very large) handbag.
By this time, jeans were the only type of trouser any self-respecting teen would wear and of course they had to have wide flares. The music of the moment was very much American country rock, and the more we looked like dudes who would hang out on dark desert highways drinking in those tequila sunrises, the better. If like me you were a girl, your shoes would also have sported massive soles and wedge heels – All the better for that swathe of flared trouser fabric to drape across. Cleverly worn, you could add a good few inches to your height, like those circus-type performers who look really, really tall but are simply walking on stilts.
Denim….stilt legs
And more denim….of the double variety
Charlie’s Angels
But of course this is a music blog (or is it a fashion blog tonight?) so what song comes to mind when writing about all of this. Well first of all it was actually a book that came to mind, by Tony Parsons, called Stories We Could Tell. I read it a few years ago but have just downloaded another copy in order to read it again. The story all takes place on one night in August 1977 when a group of diverse, music-loving young people, each have life-changing experiences. It really highlighted how that was a time of real cultural change in the UK and if you were young, like me, you will remember it well. The music of the moment was no longer that of The Eagles and Fleetwood Mac, it was punk and new wave. All of a sudden the very American, western-style clothing we wore looked ridiculous, and in order to be part of this brave new world it was imperative you get a pair of tight-fitting, straight-legged trousers, pretty damned quickly.
Always keen to be at the forefront of fashion, I prided myself on being the first of my group to acquire a pair of these new revolutionary trousers – They weren’t even denim, but a very fetching brown corduroy (of the elephant variety). The first time I wore them out, they were the talking point of the night – Everyone wanted to know where I’d bought them and what they cost. Sounds ridiculous now but after years of wearing acres of denim and checked shirts, this new pared down look was definitely something just a bit different.
Debbie Harry
Blondie 1977
Of course we were now used to the new style of music that was sweeping the country but it wasn’t all contrived or out to shock. My favourite punk/new wave band from that period was The Stranglers and in 1977, just after the night at the centre of the book I am about to revisit, they gave us the classic No More Heroes. Their sound (having just looked it up) was driven by Jean-Jacques Burnel’s melodic bass but also gave prominence to Dave Greenfield’s keyboards (every day’s a school day). Hugh Cornwell was the lead singer and quite rightly he didn’t look like a teen idol but his gruff vocals were perfect for the band. Over time, they grew more refined and sophisticated and managed, quite amazingly, to have a record in the UK Singles Chart every year between 1977 and 1992. Summing up their contribution to popular music, critic Dave Thompson wrote, “From bad-mannered yobs to purveyors of supreme pop delicacies, the group was responsible for music that may have been ugly and might have been crude – but it was never, ever boring.” Amen to that.
No More Heroes by The Stranglers:
No More Heroes Lyrics (Song byHugh Cornwell/Jean Jacques Burnel/Dave Greenfield/Jet Black)
Whatever happened to Leon Trotsky? He got an ice pick That made his ears burn
Whatever happened to dear old Lenny? The great Elmyra, And Sancho Panza?
Whatever happened to the heroes? Whatever happened to the heroes?
Whatever happened to all the heroes? All the Shakespearoes? They watched their Rome burn
Whatever happened to the heroes? Whatever happened to the heroes? No more heroes any more No more heroes any more
Whatever happened to all the heroes? All the Shakespearoes? They watched their Rome burn
Whatever happened to the heroes? Whatever happened to the heroes? No more heroes any more No more heroes any more No more heroes any more No more heroes any more
Postscript:
And if it seems somewhat bizarre to have leapt from writing about Burt Bacharach songs to writing about The Stranglers in one post, the astute amongst you will remember that in 1978 the wonderful Bacharach and David song Walk On By was indeed recorded by The Stranglers (there’s the link). Dionne Warwick it wasn’t but somehow it just worked and was right for the times – Wonder what Burt thought?
I seem to have stumbled upon “new wave” with my last couple of posts, writing first about The Clash and then Madness. I am still however not entirely sure how to define new wave which does seem to be a common problem. Although it started out with ties to late ’70s punk-rock, it eventually covered a myriad of sub-genres and the distinction between them leaves me confused and bewildered. Suffice to say it wasn’t “old wave” which up to that point had been rock, pop, country and soul.
The new wave artist that caused a fair bit of excitement when she first appeared on Thursday night’s Top Of The Pops in February 1978 was Debbie Harry, or Deborah as she preferred to be called. She was the lead singer with the band Blondie and this was the first time we had seen them perform the song Denis (pronounced Denee). Dressed in her “swimsuit” with what appeared to be her dad’s old tuxedo jacket casually thrown on top, she really made us sit up and take notice. She was stunningly beautiful with perfectly applied make-up but everything else was of a punk persuasion – Hair bleached a white blonde (it either had to be jet black or blonde if you were a girl) and odd combinations of black/red/white/striped clothes.
Denis by Blondie:
I was in my final year of high school and of course the topic of conversation the next day was Debbie Harry. I don’t know how it was done in those pre-internet days, but the shocking news got out quite early on that she was the grand old age of 32. Considering some of us probably had mothers who were not much older, I can see now how that would have been newsworthy. In the North of Scotland at that time (or anywhere?), our mothers just didn’t look like Debbie Harry.
The difference in look was because these guys were American and had emerged from New York’s punk-rock scene whose music venue of choice was CBGBs based in Manhattan’s East Village. This was where The Ramones, Television, Patti Smith and Talking Heads had also cut their teeth, but possibly because Blondie had Debbie Harry, they quickly moved on to more mainstream success, especially with their top-selling album “Parallel Lines” from which they took their disco-influenced single, Heart of Glass.
Yet again Debbie looked stunning, despite the fact her long hair seemed to have been roughly chopped off with a blunt pair of scissors and then dragged through the proverbial hedge backwards. Her dress appeared to have been fashioned from a bit of old sackcloth then suspended loosely from one shoulder, but as ever she looked marvellous. The hits kept on coming for a few more years until, as is wont to happen, they started to fall out of favour with the record-buying public.
A bit of trivia about the song Denis– It was originally recorded by American doo-wop group Randy & the Rainbows in 1963 but back then was called Denise. Changing it to a song about a boy sounded better with a silent “s” so the boy became French. Debbie sang the last two verses in that language although a bit of poetic license was used it seems with grammar, but who cared – Debbie in her swimsuit could sing the telephone directory, badly, and still get away with it.
As someone who had their hair chopped off yesterday after having it long for over 20 years, I couldn’t help thinking that in life there are the Debbie Harrys, and then there are the rest of us. I would have loved to be able to carry off the sackcloth and mussed-up hair look back then and even now, but sadly I will continue to be a slave to hair products and styling techniques for the foreseeable future. As for Debbie, aged now 71, she still looks great and I will very magnanimously put that down to excellent genes.
Denis Lyrics (Song by Neil Levenson)
Oh Denis doo-be-do I’m in love with you, Denis doo-be-do I’m in love with you, Denis doo-be-do I’m in love with you Denis Denis, oh with your eyes so blue Denis Denis, I’ve got a crush on you Denis Denis, I’m so in love with you
Oh when we walk it always feels so nice And when we talk it seems like paradise Denis Denis I’m so in love with you
You’re my king and I’m in heaven every time I look at you When you smile it’s like a dream And I’m so lucky ’cause I found a boy like you
Denis Denis, avec tes yeux si bleux Denis Denis, moi j’ai flashe a nous deux Denis Denis, un grand baiser d’eternite
Denis Denis, je suis si folle de toi Denis Denis, oh embrasse-moi ce soir Denis Denis, un grand baiser d’eternite
Oh Denis doo-be-do I’m in love with you, Denis doo-be-do I’m in love with you, Denis doo-be-do I’m in love with you
Postscript:
The law relating to freaky coincidences strikes again. I discovered after writing this post about Debbie Harry, that it happened to be her birthday today – Many happy returns D!
No matter, it has now clicked and the Massachusetts comedian John Hodgman came out saying that the song was, “Woven as deeply into the cultural landscape of Massachusetts as the Turnpike itself. It is the pulsing sound of the night and the future. It connects the midnight ride of 
What's It All About? 