I need to warn you that Last Christmas is really at the very light-hearted end of this year’s selection of songs. Separation, imprisonment, death, poverty and familial breakdown are common themes, sometimes all at the same time. There’s also a generous helping of tragic children and country music, both of which feature in this harrowing number from Skip Ewing, which does at least feature a happy ending, if you can stick with it that far. I’m easing you in gently.
Obviously we have to start with a classic, and they don’t come much more classic than this tragic tale of big coats, bigger hair and the girl who left George Michael for Andrew Ridgeley and lived to regret it. I never get tired of watching this video, though I have only just noticed the peculiar moment at around two minutes in where it looks exactly as though George is struck down by a violent stomach cramp just as he’s pondering his lost love. Merry Christmas!
This is awesome.
I am, right this second, listening to a R4 programme on musical middle eights. It’s interesting, and you should listen to it when you get the chance, but it’s made me wonder what the definition of a “middle eight” really is. (I looked it up on the internet, but nobody on the internet agrees with anyone else on the internet.)
Obviously it needn’t be eight bars long (and if you feel sniffy about that, you can get around it by calling it a bridge), but it does probably need to be somewhere in the middle of the song, which is to say it can’t be the intro or the outro. And yet one of the first examples given by Helen Caddick, a composer and lecturer in songwriting at Goldsmith’s College, was Eleanor Rigby, which I don’t think has a middle eight at all, but Caddick thinks the “Ah, look at all the lonely people” section is a middle eight; and if your definition is that it’s not the verse or the chorus (I think that bit is part of the chorus, but I’m not a lecturer in songwriting) and that it has a different melody or theme from the rest of the piece, then I suppose she could be right.
But then her second example was Pulp’s Common People, and her middle eight was this section:
Rent a flat above a shop
Cut your hair and get a job
Smoke some fags and play some pool
Pretend you never went to school
Still you’ll never get it right
Cause when you’re laying in bed at night
Watching roaches climb the wall
If you call your dad he can stop it all
Now, the vocal is certainly different, and emotionally it’s the punchy centre of the song for sure, but the music playing behind it is (I’m going by memory, I can’t seem to be bothered to give it an actual listen; feel free to tell me I’m wrong) the same as the rest of the song.
So I’m still not sure what a middle eight is, but I do know what my favourite middle eight is (today). What are yours? And what’s your definition of a middle eight?
I have loved almost all of the recordings of White Christmas we’ve had this advent, but as soon as I heard this one I knew I was saving it for Christmas Eve, because it’s not someone singing the well-known Bing Crosby song; it’s a completely immersive reimagining of the original, and a glorious piece of music in its own right. Turn up the volume really loud before you begin. Happy Christmas!
In the 1940s popular music often wasn’t immediately, or ever, associated with an individual performer – many versions of songs would be recorded, and the composer generally given the lasting credit. Which is why, I’m thrilled to be able to tell you, there were FOUR versions of White Christmas recorded and released in 1942, and here they all are in a playlist that I have made using science. It’s interesting that the first three (by, in order, Gordon Jenkins, Charlie Spivak and Freddy Martin, though in each case those are the names of the bandleaders rather than the singers, who feature as “guest vocalists”) are all quite like each other and not a great deal like Bing’s (and, because unfamiliar, much more instantly evocative of that era than Bing’s).
The version of Bing that we had on December 1, incidentally, was from the movie Holiday Inn, whereas this is the solo recording which you probably know better, so I tricked you when I said we were getting Bing over and done with at the beginning. Sorry.
Of course this lovely swing version by Ella had to be the choice for our final Crooners’ Sunday. Nothing more to say about this; it speaks for itself.
I know this is late, but it was worth the wait. How have I never realised what a terrific voice CeeLo Green has? I love this big glitzy Vegas version, and I love how happy everyone performing it is. Also, Las Vegas is totally Christmassy, because of Father Christmas Goes On Holiday.
The Beach Boys might even be my favourite band of all (not counting the Beatles and the Carpenters and the Pet Shop Boys and the Who and probably some others). This starts off so slowly that I keep thinking someone’s accidentally playing it at 33rpm rather than 45, but it’s a gloriously swooshy and whooshy version, with singing as luscious as you’d expect. Also, all Christmas songs should end with a sweep of violins, I have decided.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to sleep for 48 hours. I think I am too aged for the Christmas party season.
From now on in, all our Christmases are not just white but pure musical gold. This, from the Ravens, is one of the versions I am most delighted to be able to share with you, because it’s not well-known but it’s SUPER. Take especial note, please, of the lovely piano at 1:11 and everything from 2:10 onwards. Merry Christmas!
Glad All Over 