Old age must be kicking in, as I’m now into listening to 1970 AM Radio classics light Gordon Lightfoot’s gem.
Even down to his personal look, Joel Sarakula has a 70’s vintage vibe. He offers two tracks of exceptionally good soul music that would not have sounded out of place 40 years ago, even with the much better studio recording equipment.
Marianne Faithful’s Decca Years. By March 1964, it was apparent that pop music wasn’t just a passing fad. The Beatles were a global phenomenon, and the British Invasion of the American charts had just begun. Britain was a musical powerhouse, that the world envied. Despite this, many labels weren’t resting on their laurels. Record companies […]
The loss of Scott Walker is about as monumental for many as was the loss of, say, David Bowie or Mark Hollis. Though I had known about his pop music (including the reinterpretation of Jacques Brel’s hit, Le Chanson de Jacky), this song was a revelation. It was so far removed from pop music that I figured it sounded more like a combination of cabaret music done by experimental or apocalyptic folk musicians. It was a brilliant career pivot, and he ended up working with some really intriguing characters until his passing yesterday.
The last paragraph shows how devolved society has become if you can’t play a wonderful song by one of the most intriguing artists of his generation. So be it. Still, much respect to Ben Zimmer for the read of the day – commenting on the rendering of “stupid-ass,” which seems so non-offensive now, but which must have caused headaches for the censors back in the day.
With the passing of Scott Walker, who found pop-music fame as a member of the Walker Brothers before setting out on an inimitable solo career, the singer’s best-known work has been making the rounds online. One particularly memorable song from Walker was his first solo single, “Jackie,” released in December 1967. “Jackie” was an English-language rendering of Jacque Brel’s “La chanson de Jacky,” translated from French by Mort Shuman (a Brill Building songwriter who would go on to co-create the musical revue Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris). Both the French and English lyrics were quite racy for the time. The English chorus, as unforgettably delivered by Walker, goes:
If I could be for only an hour
If I could be for an hour every day
If I could be for just one little hour
A-cute-cute in a stupid-ass way
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