I was sad to hear that Liam Maher, the singer with Flowered Up, has died. You know how some bands have a sound that instantly sends you back to a time when anything was possible? Flowered Up do that for me. Aged 16, I spent £4.99 on a VHS copy of the 20-minute Weekender video, and I couldn’t tell you how many times I watched it with my friends that year, except that I guarantee that my immediate family will recognise this song as soon as it starts, through no choice of their own.
Liam doesn’t play the video’s hero (and he is a hero), but he has a cameo as the homeless guy who appears just as the song is properly starting (which is just over 3 minutes in; it’s a very long video, which is why it has to be split into two parts to fit on YouTube).
I saw Flowered Up about three years ago on Clapham Common, and they were every bit as good as in the olden days. I suppose everyone thinks the bands of their youth had a unique energy, but – well, just listen to the record. It’s the perfect way to kick off the weekend. Warning: contains swears.
Apologies for the long silence. I have been getting to grips with my new job; which doesn’t give me much time for thinking, let alone writing. I’ve got a nerdy-obsessive Michael Jackson post fermenting, but in the meantime here are a couple of my highlights of the last few weeks, presented in the style of a tabloid newspaper.
SPOOK
Last night I went to a Ghostbusters-themed comedy night, to celebrate 25 years since the original film’s release. I know what you’re thinking – and, well OK, you’re right; but it was still lots of fun. The highlight was a passionate, witty and informative set from Paul Gannon, who is a bigger fan than I have ever been, and from whom I learned the following new facts:
The follow-up cartoon was called “The Real Ghostbusters” because a company called Filmation (makers of Masters of the Universe, among other things) had sometime in the 1970s produced eight episodes of a truly awful live action TV show with the name “Ghostbusters”. When the film was being made they threatened to sue, but they agreed in the end to allow the film-makers to use the name so long as they (Filmation) retained the rights to use the title for any future animated series. So when the film was turned into a cartoon, they had to give it a new name.
The scenes between Pete Venkman and Dana Barrett in Dana’s apartment were all improvised by Bill Murray and Sigourney Weaver.
There is Ghostbusters porn. It isn’t very sexy, but it’s fabulously funny (he had a selection of clips for our viewing pleasure).
DUKE (grant me literal poetic license on that one, please)
We went to see Bobby McFerrin at the Royal Festival Hall as part of Ornette Coleman’s Meltdown. I am devoutly atheist, but the closest I’ve come to believing in something higher than humankind is when I watch him perform. It’s just insanely brilliant:
PUKE
I have seen Jeremy Clarkson twice in the last fortnight.
Treading in the mighty footsteps of George Michael, here’s Bing with a second appearance. If you haven’t seen Holiday Inn, by the way, do seek it out; it’s a sweet little film.
(I changed my mind about the last three songs all being post-1960. Tomorrow’s definitely is, though.)
Watching this again sent shivers up my spine. I think we always used to watch The Snowman on Christmas Eve, so for me it’s inextricably tied up with the tingling excitement of waiting for Christmas Day. I’ve chosen the original version from the cartoon rather than Aled Jones’s slightly more famous version, because the cartoon is still great and I think everyone should watch it again. The little touches – the whale, the northern lights – really make it. Although I still don’t understand why they fly over Brighton, since they end up at the North Pole and you can’t possibly start south of Brighton if you live in England, which judging by his nightwear this little boy definitely does.
I knew this was the song I wanted for today, but I didn’t know which version I wanted, so this morning I engaged in a bit of research. Things I didn’t know before include that this song is from a film, that it was written in 1949 and that it won the best song Oscar the following year. There’s a very charming version from 1951 featuring Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Jordan, and there will always be a place in my heart for the Miss Piggy/Rudolf Nuryev cover, but because it’s the original and best, here are Ricardo Montalban and Esther Williams in Neptune’s Daughter (I’d never heard of it either) with Baby It’s Cold Outside.
I’m listening to this soundtrack album, because the Magnetic Fields played a song from it when we saw them last week and it made me want to hear more. I didn’t know anything about the film, but its IMDb plot keywords are
Kind of sounds intriguing, doesn’t it? Sadly, the only review on the IMDb begins:
This film is offensive and admirable at the same time. A kind of message movie about the loveliness of adult-adolescent gay romances, the film actually does have some guts because it allows everyone a fair chance to make their case. But the film itself is so bad!
I’d still quite like to see it based on that, but it doesn’t appear to be available anywhere, despite only having come out in 2000.
Anyway, the music is very good. I do like story songs. I think this is the first CD album I’ve bought in…um, longer than I can remember. I get all my music off the internet now. But it’s not as much fun – the CD case even comes with the lyrics printed inside! If I weren’t at work I’d be singing along.
Never mind the funereal procession of black gowns (you have to say “gowns”; “frocks” at a push – never “dresses”) on display at last night’s Oscars ceremony: I am more distressed by the profusion of poorly-thought-through beards. Witness the otherwise-attractive Seth Rogen, James McAvoy, Viggo Mortensen (although in his defence, he’s never looked good, apart from in comparison with the rest of the cast of LOTR, all of whom were playing monsters) and the master of the ill-advised facial hair arrangement, Johnny Depp. Sigh. Such a shame.
Yesterday, in the post-Sunday-lunch haze, I was introduced to this film, which I was amazed not to have heard of before. It’s a jewel-heist caper! With Joan Collins and David Hasselhoff! And it’s rubbish!
But I sort of loved the tagline: “His only hope is to escape with her jewels…before she steals his heart!”. Exclamation mark theirs.
