Sunday Mornings: Coffee, Reflections and Music

Imagine the following scenario:

You meet someone who makes you feel special. From the word go there's that little spark, that magic that comes as a consequence of falling head over heels for their eyes, their accent or their laughter. Years later, when you look back on that relationship, long dead, you remember how at first he/she 'moved like the sunset'. Let's also add that he or she comes from up north, wherever that north might be in your country of residence. You think you'll be OK.

But OK, you're not. The relationship with your 'northern lad' (lass?) turns out to be a half-baked cake affair. An unmoistened liaison that leaves you 'only wet because of the rain'. Tucked under your duvet you lose hope little by little, craving warmth and companionship but knowing that outside "it's gets so fucking cold..."

I can see why Tori Amos uses the 'f' word in 'Northern Lad'. It's one of those rare examples where swearing is perfectly justified and understandable. You offer your whole self to another person, warts and all, only for your partner to throw it back at you, highlighting flaw after flaw after flaw. Or what he/she might are your flaws and in reality they're just your quirks. And don't we all have quirks?

I've always hated lazy and mindless cussing in songs. The kind that seems to spring up when inspiration and talent are not abundant. Too much contemporary music comes across as a ready-to-drive vehicle for profanity. The type you might find in the discounts section at your local supermarket. Get two swearwords for the price of one.

But occasionally, you find certain passages in melodies in which only a strong word, or one that is not normally used in polite conversation, will do. Queen's "Death on Two Legs" would not be the hard-rock, top-quality ranting it is were it not for Freddie's "But now you can kiss my ass goodbye". It's done angrily but with élan. The same finesse is found in another record by the same band, "Let Me Entertain You", from their 1978 album 'Jazz':"We'll have a son of a bitch of a time". It's all to do with context. This is a song about a group that are "Gonna rock you gonna roll you/Get you dancing in the aisles/Jazz you razzmatazz you/With a little bit of style". Very different from 50 Cent's 'Candy Shop' where his promise (or should that be a threat?) to 'take you to the candy shop/I'll let you lick the lollypop' is enough to pull out a gun and blow your brains off. His reference to oral sex is as subtle as an anti-monarchist ripping a picture of Wills'n'Kate into shreds in the middle of the Mall and calling it a 'nuanced republican statement'.

Pop songs are so brief (only between three and three and half minutes long) that if you want to include a couple of 'naughty' words, you'd better hit the right spot quick and effectively. Radiohead's 'Creep' is a good example. In this paean to a woman (methinks it's a lady the object of the singer's affection), Thom Yorke plays the oddball who falls for an 'angel'. All the signs of infatuation are there: her skin makes him cry, he thinks that she floats like a feather in a beautiful world. That's why he wishes he was special. But he isn't, and then Thom and co. deliver the masterstroke. In talking to the woman (probably when she isn't looking), Mr Yorke cries out: "You're so fucking special". What makes the 'f' word stand out is that it sits at odds with the beautiful and poetic language Radiohead uses in the rest of the song. Moreover, this swear term is only ever utilised as a refrain, thus, creating a chorus of disappointment and despair. Finally, unlike Tori's 'Northern Lad', in 'Creep', the protagonist is not interested in his lover's faults; on the contrary, he idolises her.

Another way of interpreting the profanity in 'Creep' and the reasons for it, is to analyse the second verse: "I don't care if it hurts/I want to have control/I want a perfect body/I want a perfect soul". In those desperate lines there lies probably one of the strongest criticisms against the bodyfascism that has come to rule over our contemporary world in recent years. Alternatively, Radiohead was just taking the piss. And given the theme of today's column, I feel more than justified in using that kind of language. Have a brilliant week!

© 2011

Next Post: ‘Food, Music, Food, Music, Food, Music… Ad Infinitum’, to be published on Wednesday 11th May at 11:59pm (GMT)

Killer Opening Songs (Crucify by Tori Amos)

For decades now the guitar has come to symbolise the ultimate power in rock and pop, especially in the former. Other instruments have accepted this fate imposed upon them by the almighty six-string musical seducer. But there remains one that has refused to bow its head: the equally commanding piano. And there are so many good examples of artists using the ivories to express their feelings: self-appointed King Arthur's court musician Rick Wakeman from Yes, the Argentinian rocker Fito Páez, the late, unbelievable Nina Simone. All these performers have brought, or brought, as in the case of Nina, an extraordinary level of deftness and mastery to an instrument whose origins were rooted mainly in classical music.

And to this list Killer Opening Songs would like to add the name Tori Amos. For almost twenty years now, this American singer has prowled the mainly male-dominated medium of rock and pop. From the very beginning Tori defied conventions: she avoided early 90s genres such as techno and grunge, her piano-based compositions travelled the diapason of her own troubled religious upbringing and she distanced herself from the Joni Mitchell/Kate Bush dyad.

Tonight K.O.S. is pleased to bring 'Crucify', the opening track of her debut album 'Little Earthquakes'. A very emotive song that touched upon issues like God, self-doubt and victimhood, 'Crucify' set the tone for Tori's singing style. Here's a performer whose voice accordions across low and high notes, never letting up or abating. Let's not forget that it was around those years, '92-'93 that the Mariah Careys and Whitney Houstons claimed their stake in pop's Mount Olympus, leaving as their legacy that yodelling competition they call nowadays 'X Factor' or 'American Idol'. All the more to admire Tori's uncompromising body of work.

But if the voice was exceptional the lyrics were mind-blowing. In passages like 'I've been looking for a savior in these dirty streets/looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets/I've been raising up my hands/Drive another nail in/Just what God needs/One more victim' Tori raises a very important issue: that of victimhood and how to react to it. K.O.S. is of the opinion that some people enjoy suffering and not from a masochistic point of view, but rather from a consciously powerlessness perspective. They enjoy the attention that misery brings and occasionally make a nice living out of that. However in Tori's hands 'Crucify' becomes a parody of adversity: 'Got a kick for a dog/Beggin' for Love/I gotta have my suffering/So that I can have my cross'. The dark humour certainly runs underneath the placid surface of this Killer Opening Song.

All in all, Tori Amos has recorded ten albums, with her latest coming out this autumn. Strong evidence of her quality as an artist and her skills as a pianist. Besides, without Tori we wouldn't have Fiona Apple, would we? Just joking. Enjoy.



Copyright 2009

Next Post: 'Sunday Mornings: Coffee, Reflections and Music' , to be published on Sunday 25th October at 10am (GMT)

Road Songs (Vivace)

This is the third and final instalment in this three part-series. Basically it is about how good female drivers are (yes, they are, stop rolling your eyes, please!) and how a lot of female musicians break down barriers and conventions without having to resort to short skirts and bikinis.

For the first and second parts, click here and here.

Even someone like me, who enjoyed the whole 'Age Ain't Nothing But a Number' album when it first came out, was surprised by the success of the single 'Try Again' when it was released. Aaliyah was an all-round performer and master (or is that mistress?) of her own destiny. An untimely death did not allow us to taste what should have been the best of a brilliant music career. Nostalgic.

Monica Molina has what is commonly known as pedigree. She is the daughter of the famous flamenco singer Antonio Molina and her sister is actress Angela Molina. However she has made it in the difficult world of Spanish pop with a very peculiar voice and very poetic compositions. Mellow.

Punchy, defiant and in-your-face. That's how I describe Tori Amos. I like the way she bashes those black and white keys in wild abandon. Her voice teems with self-confidence and bravado. Challenging.

Cesaria Evora. Sodade. That's all. If you don't know what I mean by that, you should be tried for crimes against music. Cesaria Evora. Sodade. That. Is. All. Majestic.

I'm taking my freedom/Pulling it off the shelf/Putting it on my chain/Wear it around my neck/I'm taking my freedom/Putting it in my car/Wherever I choose to go/It will take me far. Anyone who sings those lines, has my utmost R.E.S.P.E.C.T. Jill Scott is imposing, and this is not due to her size or weight, but on account of her vocal prowess and yes-I-can attitude. Smashing.

Lhasa de Sela is a very unusual singer (but then again, this is a very unusual blog). The way she sings is ever so tender and affectionate. In this particular song she says the words in French first and then carries on in Spanish. Mesmerising.

Les Nubians were one of the pioneers of the so-called Afropean genre. Born in France, they left for Chad and lived there for seven years, returning to Europe after. Their sound is hard to pin down. Enjoyable.

Last but not least comes Yasmin Levy, an exponent of what is called Ladino music, a mix of Spanish and Jewish music. Ladino culture has survived hundreds of years and Yasmin's voice is testimony to the resilience of its members. Gigantic.

Copyright 2008

Road Songs (Nocturne)

I was recently driving back home from Potters Bar, Hertfordshire, relishing a marvellous early winter sunset when I began to ponder on the joys of night-time driving. As the car headlights helped me cruise through the Ridgeway back to Enfield, nature's twilight hour brought a myriad creatures to the full beam of my front lights, thus, thrusting me into the whirpool of this lawless, carefree and unadultared animal world. Night-time driving music divests the listener of optical detours whilst ensnaring them in a type of Wild West grip.

Night-time driving music doesn't need/have to necessarily be slow, schmaltzy, ballad-type. Many a time I've caught myself humming quite loudly to a Fela Kuti's song or a track by Los Van Van. The only requirement(s) it must meet is leave you with that eerie and unearthly feeling of being part of the unknown, especially when driving in a motorway or in a countryside road.

The first clip is a testament to the wonderful world of networking. As social fora for like-minded folks, the internet and blogs, specifically, have become an essential part of the human existence and on this particular occasion I have fellow Cuban, journalist and blogger Ivan Darías Alfonso to thank for introducing me to the music of Souad Massi, an Algerian singer who has made inroads into French culture via her haunting and beautiful voice and, if the comments on youtube.com are anything to go by, the depth of her songs. Which I cannot understand as she sings in Arabic. I have just ordered her CD, 'Deb', after listening to a few tunes in the aforementioned website and I can't wait for it to arrive on my doorstep. Thanks Ivan and Merry Christmas to you and Elena.



This band should not have worked out. And the same goes for some night wildlife when you see it through the glass of your windshield. Some of it just doesn't make sense. Ditto with this group. The Doors had a guitarist rooted in flamenco music, a drummer with a jazz background and a keyboardist and pianist whose leanings were more towards Bach than The Beatles. And then they had Jim. And it worked. Beautifully. This song weighed on me in my teens and it still does. Pure musicianship.



The Cranberries took me by surprise when I first heard this album back in the mid 90s, just like night-time driving can throw up a few surprises hither and thither, sometimes not very nice ones. The opposite happens here. O' Riordan's voice is so delicate and yet so strong . Enjoy.



I've always been a Tori Amos' enthusiast. The passion with which she attacks the piano, her lyrics and the feeling of being on the edge of the unknown, or maybe the known unknown for I get a sense of comfort in being in her music's company. Just like when I'm driving at night collecting my son from Woodcraft Folk and we are both looking forward to the weekend. A known unknown which we both know will be worthwhile. And I want to set the mood for it right from Friday night.



Well, there ain't no sunshine at night, Bill. And how many times do you say 'I know' in that tune? It doesn't matter, it's the pure feeling wafting through the track, it's the guitar-playing skills, it's the heart-rending delivery, it's just pure, soulful, unadulturated music. Like night wildlife. Like night-time driving.



I was one of the lucky ones who managed to sneak into the Karl Marx Theatre in 1994 to see Manu Chao and Mano Negra in their only visit to Havana, as far as I know. And that concert has always stayed in my mind. The relentless energy, the camaraderie, the bond and the closeness of each and every musician on stage was mind-blowing. I must admit that I don't have all the songs I upload on this blog on CDs. I do have loads of CDs, but I also upload tracks which I would like to play in the car as I drive around the streets, roads and motorways of Britain and this is one of those songs.



And that's what night-time driving is about. The magnitude of the road, the smallness of the car, the infinite power of music.

This is all for this week. Have a Merry Christmas.

Copyright 2007