...searching for favourite songs on Youtube on Boxing Day. Today, this one was the one I wanted to listen to over and over again.
I fell in love with this version when I first heard it. At the risk of being sacrilegious, I think it's 10x better than Elvis'. There's something about the quality of Corey Hart's voice - the tentativeness, the tenderness, as well as Corey's range - that suits this song infinitely better than Elvis' did.
The simple, unadulterated vocals give it the aching vulnerability that is the essence of the song, lost in UB40's version.
The way he sings my favourite line of the song, the question:
Shall I stay - or would it be a sin?
brings tears to my eyes. You can see him reaching for her cheek, the tips of his fingers brushing her hair.
Perfect. (Yes, I'm a hopeless romantic. But you should have known that already.)
Showing posts with label pop music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pop music. Show all posts
Friday, 26 December 2008
Saturday, 25 October 2008
Rock of ages
I just had to post this. There have been so many times I've wanted to stand up in the middle of the Oratory during Latin mass and just shout the first line to everyone there living (if you can call it that) their Stepford lives:
All right, I got something to say: Yeah, it's better to burn out -
THAN FADE AWAY
And yes, I've wanted to rock the damn place down, down to the ground...and occasionally (figuratively) burn it, but only to start again.
Well, the church DOES refer to itself as the Rock of Ages, so it's a perfectly appropriate song to break into in the middle of mass.
What do I want? I want rock 'n' roll.
Yes, I do.
After all, someone has to get into that church and give the Holy Spirit a hand. How? Gonna start a fire...
All right, I got something to say: Yeah, it's better to burn out -
THAN FADE AWAY
And yes, I've wanted to rock the damn place down, down to the ground...and occasionally (figuratively) burn it, but only to start again.
Well, the church DOES refer to itself as the Rock of Ages, so it's a perfectly appropriate song to break into in the middle of mass.
What do I want? I want rock 'n' roll.
Yes, I do.
After all, someone has to get into that church and give the Holy Spirit a hand. How? Gonna start a fire...
Tuesday, 16 September 2008
How I pray...
For various reasons - from Alphaville's "Forever Young" in an advert to Ruth playing A-ha whilst I was at hers - I've been hunting down the music of my youth. Music from the 80s makes me laugh, cry, dance like a maniac.
It's also the way I pray.
"Kyrie eleison", meaning "Lord, have mercy", has been part of my everyday vocabulary since I became Catholic. I use it in prayer, as an interjection, for any reason going. E.g., "Kyrie eleison, will NO ONE do us all a favour and push Edward out of the choir loft??!" My usage of it is probably (and I'm happy for my Saffa friends to correct me on this) similar to the Afrikaans "Jislaaik" or "Agh".
But this song came out long before my Catholic days, and I used it as a prayer from the moment I was mesmerised by the opening verse:
Kyrie eleison
Kyrie eleison
Kyrie...
The wind blows hard against this mountainside,
across the sea into my soul -
it reaches into where I cannot hide,
setting my feet upon the road...
My heart is old, it holds my memories,
my body burns a gem-like flame:
somewhere between the soul and soft machine
is where I find myself again...
I'd never heard a song like it before, but it resonated in a way that the young Irim couldn't articulate. All my life, I had felt like my feet had been set on a road, that I couldn't hide, that someone was always beside me, that God was closer to me than my own skin - I never needed to have faith in God; I knew God existed, just like I knew our house did. Just like I knew that there was somewhere, somewhen I was meant to be.
I was always trying to find a way to get closer to God: I wanted to pray with my mother, my cousins in Pakistan, but I always found talking to God in my own words the easiest. You know, words such as, "Lord, I know you're trying to teach me patience, but NOW is NOT the time." It shouldn't surprise me to find myself currently drifting away from mass, only to find myself in an empty church lighting a candle. I don't do God group talk very well. I can talk to God by looking up, by being with those I love, maybe most often in those I find most difficult. (Not that I handle THAT well.) But telling me how to relate to God and what God wants me to do is very likely to get you an impolite gesture - figuratively, of course.
But that rebellion against being told what to say and how to say it doesn't stop me from borrowing someone else's words when they're absolutely perfect for my conversation with God.
I used the chorus of this song as a prayer for years - I still do when the song comes to mind. But my prayers have always been a personal variation on it- Mr Mister just put it more succinctly:
Kyrie eleison, down the road that I must travel,
Kyrie eleison, through the darkness of the night,
Kyrie eleison, where I'm going, will you follow?
Kyrie eleison, on a highway in the light.
And my favourite bit? When, during the choruses at the end, one of the singers comes out with a heartfelt, "Will you follow?" Because that's what I always ask when I start something new: "God, do you have my back on this one?"
Because I know I have yet to reach that somewhere or somewhen that I've sensed since I could toddle. And you know, God, sometimes the going has gotten really tough, and I have had to sit down, wanted to turn back, just quit altogether or take an easier road. But every time I've asked, you've promised that you have my back, that you will follow. That no matter who else has left, you won't.
And if you will follow, I will keep my feet upon the road. Then all that is left for me to ask is:
Kyrie eleison, on a highway in the light.
It's also the way I pray.
"Kyrie eleison", meaning "Lord, have mercy", has been part of my everyday vocabulary since I became Catholic. I use it in prayer, as an interjection, for any reason going. E.g., "Kyrie eleison, will NO ONE do us all a favour and push Edward out of the choir loft??!" My usage of it is probably (and I'm happy for my Saffa friends to correct me on this) similar to the Afrikaans "Jislaaik" or "Agh".
But this song came out long before my Catholic days, and I used it as a prayer from the moment I was mesmerised by the opening verse:
Kyrie eleison
Kyrie eleison
Kyrie...
The wind blows hard against this mountainside,
across the sea into my soul -
it reaches into where I cannot hide,
setting my feet upon the road...
My heart is old, it holds my memories,
my body burns a gem-like flame:
somewhere between the soul and soft machine
is where I find myself again...
I'd never heard a song like it before, but it resonated in a way that the young Irim couldn't articulate. All my life, I had felt like my feet had been set on a road, that I couldn't hide, that someone was always beside me, that God was closer to me than my own skin - I never needed to have faith in God; I knew God existed, just like I knew our house did. Just like I knew that there was somewhere, somewhen I was meant to be.
I was always trying to find a way to get closer to God: I wanted to pray with my mother, my cousins in Pakistan, but I always found talking to God in my own words the easiest. You know, words such as, "Lord, I know you're trying to teach me patience, but NOW is NOT the time." It shouldn't surprise me to find myself currently drifting away from mass, only to find myself in an empty church lighting a candle. I don't do God group talk very well. I can talk to God by looking up, by being with those I love, maybe most often in those I find most difficult. (Not that I handle THAT well.) But telling me how to relate to God and what God wants me to do is very likely to get you an impolite gesture - figuratively, of course.
But that rebellion against being told what to say and how to say it doesn't stop me from borrowing someone else's words when they're absolutely perfect for my conversation with God.
I used the chorus of this song as a prayer for years - I still do when the song comes to mind. But my prayers have always been a personal variation on it- Mr Mister just put it more succinctly:
Kyrie eleison, down the road that I must travel,
Kyrie eleison, through the darkness of the night,
Kyrie eleison, where I'm going, will you follow?
Kyrie eleison, on a highway in the light.
And my favourite bit? When, during the choruses at the end, one of the singers comes out with a heartfelt, "Will you follow?" Because that's what I always ask when I start something new: "God, do you have my back on this one?"
Because I know I have yet to reach that somewhere or somewhen that I've sensed since I could toddle. And you know, God, sometimes the going has gotten really tough, and I have had to sit down, wanted to turn back, just quit altogether or take an easier road. But every time I've asked, you've promised that you have my back, that you will follow. That no matter who else has left, you won't.
And if you will follow, I will keep my feet upon the road. Then all that is left for me to ask is:
Kyrie eleison, on a highway in the light.
Monday, 3 December 2007
She has floppy ears...
is one of the most amusing 'mis-hearings' of the lyrics that back up Peter Gabriel in one of his most surreal and fabulous songs, "Games without frontiers".
I was hypnotised by that song when I first heard it a quarter of a century ago, and it's still an all-time favourite. It's a testament to the fact that enduring popular music isn't the anodyne, ungrammatical, uninteresting, talent-show cr*p that's coming out now - I've been curious about Peter Gabriel's references for *25* years. That's not going to happen with Girls Aloud or Westlife now, is it?
Ok, time for my confession: I heard those lyrics as "She's so popular." Actually, they're "Jeux sans frontieres" - French for "Games without frontiers".
Directly from songfacts:
"Kate Bush sang backup - that's her singing "'Jeux Sans Frontieres'." (I thought it was Peter Gabriel doing falsetto)
"Gabriel got the idea for the title from a 1970s European game show of the same name where contestants dressed up in strange costumes to compete for prizes. A version of the show came out in England called "It's a knockout," giving him that lyric."
The 2nd verse of the song begins:
"Andre has a red flag/ Chiang Ching's is blue/They all have hills to fly them on, except for Lin Tai Yu.
"Andre could refer to Andre Malraux (1901-1976) the French statesman and author of the book Man's Fate, about the 1920s communist regime in Shanghai. Red flag may refer to Malraux's leftist politics. Chiang Ching could refer to Chiang Kai-shek (1887-1975) Chinese leader of the Kuomintang who opposed the Communists - hence, the rightwing Blue Flag. Chiang's forces lost the civil war in 1949 and fled to Taiwan, where they set up a government in exile.
"Lin Tai Yu may be Nguyen Thieu (1923-2001), South Vietnamese president during the height of the Vietnam war. After the Communist victory of 1975, Thieu fled to Taiwan, England, and later to the United States where he died in exile.
"The lyric could refer to the fact that while leftist politicians like Andre Malraux had a secure position in France, and rightist leaders like Chiang Kai Shek had a secure country in Taiwan, those caught in the middle like Nguyen Thieu were pawns in the Cold war and had no secure country. This could also be a reproach to either Thieu or his United States backers, saying that he was now a nobody."
Marvellous. How many songs have THAT much learning packed into 4 minutes? How many songs haunt you for a quarter century? And even if the above surmise is incorrect, how much do you learn from researching and debating what it means?
All in the guise of a catchy tune.
The song does something else that all good pop songs should: it taps into deeply held emotions. When I first heard it, it helped me articulate my feelings that adults were playing silly games with other people's lives, so they could fly their flags from as many hills as possible. The chorus - "If looks could kill, they probably will/in games without frontiers/war without tears" also tapped into that fear of those of us growing up during the Cold War in the Reagan era - the fear of imminent nuclear war, vividly brought to life in movies such as "The Day After" and "Threads". Little did we know how soon it would lift, and that the end of the decade would see the demise of the Berlin Wall.
Since that time, pop doesn't hold the same appeal - I can't think of a single song that has the impact of Paul Hardcastle's "19" or Peter Gabriel's "Games without frontiers". There's no attempt at intelligent writing or tapping into real emotions, no Dylanesque social commentary, no interest in the world at large, just a self-absorbed obsession with looks and puppy love. I'm a bit worried that this generation will be ruling the world in a couple of decades, and they don't seem to care enough to write songs about it or debate what's happening in it. The time to start is now.
Mind you, no one will ever be able to surpass "Games without frontiers":
It's a knockout.
I was hypnotised by that song when I first heard it a quarter of a century ago, and it's still an all-time favourite. It's a testament to the fact that enduring popular music isn't the anodyne, ungrammatical, uninteresting, talent-show cr*p that's coming out now - I've been curious about Peter Gabriel's references for *25* years. That's not going to happen with Girls Aloud or Westlife now, is it?
Ok, time for my confession: I heard those lyrics as "She's so popular." Actually, they're "Jeux sans frontieres" - French for "Games without frontiers".
Directly from songfacts:
"Kate Bush sang backup - that's her singing "'Jeux Sans Frontieres'." (I thought it was Peter Gabriel doing falsetto)
"Gabriel got the idea for the title from a 1970s European game show of the same name where contestants dressed up in strange costumes to compete for prizes. A version of the show came out in England called "It's a knockout," giving him that lyric."
The 2nd verse of the song begins:
"Andre has a red flag/ Chiang Ching's is blue/They all have hills to fly them on, except for Lin Tai Yu.
"Andre could refer to Andre Malraux (1901-1976) the French statesman and author of the book Man's Fate, about the 1920s communist regime in Shanghai. Red flag may refer to Malraux's leftist politics. Chiang Ching could refer to Chiang Kai-shek (1887-1975) Chinese leader of the Kuomintang who opposed the Communists - hence, the rightwing Blue Flag. Chiang's forces lost the civil war in 1949 and fled to Taiwan, where they set up a government in exile.
"Lin Tai Yu may be Nguyen Thieu (1923-2001), South Vietnamese president during the height of the Vietnam war. After the Communist victory of 1975, Thieu fled to Taiwan, England, and later to the United States where he died in exile.
"The lyric could refer to the fact that while leftist politicians like Andre Malraux had a secure position in France, and rightist leaders like Chiang Kai Shek had a secure country in Taiwan, those caught in the middle like Nguyen Thieu were pawns in the Cold war and had no secure country. This could also be a reproach to either Thieu or his United States backers, saying that he was now a nobody."
Marvellous. How many songs have THAT much learning packed into 4 minutes? How many songs haunt you for a quarter century? And even if the above surmise is incorrect, how much do you learn from researching and debating what it means?
All in the guise of a catchy tune.
The song does something else that all good pop songs should: it taps into deeply held emotions. When I first heard it, it helped me articulate my feelings that adults were playing silly games with other people's lives, so they could fly their flags from as many hills as possible. The chorus - "If looks could kill, they probably will/in games without frontiers/war without tears" also tapped into that fear of those of us growing up during the Cold War in the Reagan era - the fear of imminent nuclear war, vividly brought to life in movies such as "The Day After" and "Threads". Little did we know how soon it would lift, and that the end of the decade would see the demise of the Berlin Wall.
Since that time, pop doesn't hold the same appeal - I can't think of a single song that has the impact of Paul Hardcastle's "19" or Peter Gabriel's "Games without frontiers". There's no attempt at intelligent writing or tapping into real emotions, no Dylanesque social commentary, no interest in the world at large, just a self-absorbed obsession with looks and puppy love. I'm a bit worried that this generation will be ruling the world in a couple of decades, and they don't seem to care enough to write songs about it or debate what's happening in it. The time to start is now.
Mind you, no one will ever be able to surpass "Games without frontiers":
It's a knockout.
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