OK, let's get back into space after last week's unrelated diversion... and where's the first stop on our journey?
There are far too many songs about the big blue cheese button to narrow down a Top Ten Moon Songs... so instead, here's 10 solely about taking a trip there.
I vomited throughout your saxophone solo, sings Gruff Rhys, to whom I'm not sure. It's enough to make him want to leave the planet and set up his home Space 1999 style on Moonbase Alpha.
If I were being retroactive, I'd pick something like OU or Razzmatazz from the Pulp: Intro album, but sadly I didn't discover Jarvis till the following year. I did discover Aimee Mann in '93 though and even chose her debut solo record, Whatever, as my album of the year. Mr. Harris is probably my favourite track from that disc now, but this is the one that made me love Aimee at the time.
Meanwhile, the singles chart had fallen off a cliff. Number One as I got the key to the door? Oh Carolina by Shaggy.
Jarvis almost made it home once again, I could have gone with just about anything from His 'n' Hers. But then there's Vauxhall & I. Could this be Morrissey's finest 39 minutes as a solo artist?
I told you the birthday number ones just get worse and worse. March 19th, 1994? Doop. By Doop. Sadly, not this one...
At last, proof that my favourite singles don't always come from my favourite albums. This was the year of Everything Must Go, Beautiful Freak and Murder Ballads... yet the song that most reminds me of my second stab at being a teenager is this exuberant blast of sunshiny retro-pop from Ocean Colour Scene. Hard to believe they were the first band I ever saw live.
Meanwhile, back in the charts... How Deep Is Your Love? Shallow, when it comes to the Take That version. Not so shallow they couldn't drown a few Gibb brothers in it.
Blur were a great singles band and this was their greatest moment. Two minutes of noisy power pop that never fail to make me go "Woo hoo!" While Radiohead, The Verve and Gene were darkening my long player collection, Damon and the lads kept me smiling. This year's runner-up was a hymn to optimism from James: Tomorrow.
And in an alternate reality to my own, The Spice Girls were having their 4th Number One as I reached my mid-20s. I can't even remember the title.
Another song that stands out by not belonging to one of the year's best albums. 1998 gave us my favourite record of the 90s, Pulp's public breakdown on This Is Hardcore. But the single of the year belongs to Gregg Alexander, a man who hated being a rock star so much he went off and wrote songs for Ronan Keating.
Sadly, I can't find my other favourite single of 1998 on youtube. Child Psychology by Black Box Recorder must be too dark for the video collective.
March 19th 1998, the Number One was It's Like That by Run DMC vs. Jason Nevins. Which is a damn sight better than we've managed throughout the rest of this decade so far.
I thought long and hard about this one. It would have been so much cooler to pick something by The Magnetic Fields (69, my favourite album of '99), The Flaming Lips or even Ooberman, but as much as Fran Healey has damaged his limited rep by writing MOR-pap for the last 10+ years, this is still a perfect gloomy-pop song that captures a snapshot of my life in 1999. I remember watching them play it live at a festival just before they went big, in the rain. Perfect.
Besides, it could have been worse. I could have chosen my last birthday Number One of the 20th Century. Boyzone murdering Billy Ocean. When The Going Gets Tough... the tough put their hands over their ears and go lalalalalalalala.
Neither of my two favourite singles of 2000 meant much to the public at large. I've written about Black Box Recorder's The Facts Of Life before, but Wonderful by Everclear is a curio. An American band who have never bothered the British charts, this is their greatest moment. More upbeat power-pop packed with smiley hooks, handclaps and a 'na-na-na' chorus... masking a dark lyrical undertow.
Please don't tell me everything is wonderful now
Far less Wonderful, my first birthday chart-topper of the 21st Century: Bag It Up by Geri Halliwell. WTF? Is that Geri singing about her shopping? I'm not sure I've ever even heard that record. I am sure I never want to.
The song I want playing at my funeral. Kind of apt for my 30th birthday?
But as I actually turned 30, Will Young was at Number One, marking the funeral of the singles chart as we knew it. Simon Cowell slaughtered the damned thing before our very eyes.
Tuesday night, I may have upset / angered / disappointed / overly excited my twitter followers by tweeting...
E is fantastic!
...followed a little later by...
On an E high so can't even consider sleep. Thank god Radcliffe's on the radio.
I suppose I ought to come clean and confess - no, I haven't been taking Class A drugs... the truth is (smug, holier-than-thou comment alert!) I don't need 'em. My E high was a natural one, brought about by an evening of top quality musical entertainment from Mark 'E' Everett: lead singer, songwriter, guitarist and premier beard-wearer of the Eels.
E has been on a creative high over the last couple of years, releasing a trilogy of excellent records that deal with three notable stages of a relationship - desire, break-up and moving on - Hombre Lobo,End Timesand Tomorrow Morning. These, together with their sublime predecessor, the career best double album Blinking Lights And Other Revelationscontain some of the strongest material Eels have ever recorded, and as it's getting on for ten years since I last saw them live, it was great to hear so many recent songs played on Tuesday night, along with earlier classics like Souljacker, Saturday Morning and, of course, their debut hit Novocaine For The Soul. The days when Eels troubled the singles chart are long since passed, but like many bands of their ilk they continue to produce records that are easily the equal of their rock star glory days.
Many of Everett's songs are starkly personal and deal with serious issues like depression, death and alienation. You might not know that from hearing them played live though - especially with E's current band, the funkiest group of musicians he's gathered to date, particularly that wonderful horn section. I've always been a fan of brass in pop music (being a former brass bandsman myself) and think it high time more artists roped in a horn section, particularly for live shows. But funk isn't the only thing this band brought to Leeds on Tuesday - they also supplied an outstanding selection of facial hair, most notably on E himself who's returned to the full-on Unabomber look he sported in the Shootenanny days, and wears that beard with panache!
Following on from last week's Top Ten Bitch Songs by changing just one letter in my search engine (yes, I'm that lazy) - and also in celebration of the unholy mockery that was Season Of The Witch - here are ten songs filled with hubble, bubble, toil and trouble...
Everyone knows the story. Jeff Buckley made one classic album, Grace, then floated away down the Mississippi River before he ever got chance to complete its follow up, My Sweetheart The Drunk. His record company, doing what record companies do best at times like this, released the unfinished sessions as a double album of incomplete "sketches". They're nowhere near as compelling as anything on Grace, but who knows - maybe they would have been.
Whoever uploaded this to youtube decided to link it to scenes from the movie Unfaithful, so you get to watch Diane Lane get it on with Olivier Martinez while you listen to Jeff's song. This may prove too much of a distraction...
A song written by Don Henley in a delirious fever dream, the witch in question apparently being F. Scott Fitzgerald's wife Zelda, "the first American flapper". (Yes, I said 'flapper'. You just read it as 'slapper'.)
...is one of those lyrics that always brings an unnecessary smile to my face. The question is, if we threw Hefner in a lake with bricks tied round their ankles, would they float or would they drown?
(No indie-folk weirdoes were hurt during the preparation of this Top Ten.)
The witchhunt here is the media-fuelled hysteria created after 9/11 and the subsequent terrorist attacks on the London Underground. Those wacky, fun-lovin' Bloc Party lads.
Originally recorded by Redbone in the 70s, there's just something about the Edwyn Collins version that tips it over the edge. Great strings, and Collins' voice has never been richer. Curiously, he also does an inspired cover of our next track too... though sadly I can't find either of them on youtube.
Written and released in 1957. It's easy to think of Sinatra as being a big musical force in only the 40s and early 50s, disappearing off the scene once his nemesis, rock 'n' roll, arrived on the scene. Nothing could be further from the truth. This is a classic, whatever the era.
The film may have been a crock, but Donovan's 60s hit steals the broomstick from all other contenders. It's also the only truly spooky song on the list.
So... who did I forget? Or, as Scooby Doo would have it... which witch is WITCH?
I really do not get "embedding disabled by request" on youtube. Why would the record companies not want me to cross-promote their songs? Could they be scared someone might hear it and actually want to buy a copy? It's another ridiculous example of copyright law being used to shoot yourself in the foot, and I expect more from the Manics. I reckon there's more chance of you clicking play on an embedded video than clicking a link to that video - it's only a couple of extra clicks, but we all have such a fast-paced, "feed me now" lives, those two extra clicks are a great big wall of stop. I mean, you've already quit reading this paragraph because it's gone on for more than 5 lines, haven't you? Your granny's a whore. See? Nobody even flinched.
Anyway, the new Manics album. I liked it much more than the last one (the one all the real Manics fans loved because it used up all Ritchie's old lyrics) but not as much as the one before (the one with tigers).
9. Titus Andronicus - The Monitor
No, I never wanted to change the world, But I'm looking for a new New Jersey Because tramps like us, baby, we were born to die
Any band that quotes Billy Bragg and Bruce Springsteen within two consecutive lines... well, you know they've got me, right?
While The Gaslight Anthem sounded more and more like a Bruce tribute act this year, Titus Andronicus took the Born To Run spirit and fired it with a punk ethos that... shit, I hate it when I sound like a music journo.
This is ace. Click play now.
8. Dan Le Sac Vs. Scroobius Pip - The Logic Of Chance
What's this? Hip hop? Electronica? Rap? In my Top Ten? Surely this is taking up space that could be given to more landfill indie or another sad old bastard songwriter? What the fuck is wrong with me?
I first became interested in the songwriting of Scroobius Pip with his masterful list song Thou Shalt Always Kill. It made me laugh and touched a nerve, but I really didn't expect to enjoy a whole album of this stuff.
Guess what?
(The song below offers further explanation.)
7. Babybird - Ex-Maniac
Babybird? Ah, that's more like what you expect. Obscure one-hit wonder Britpop losers long past their sell-by date. From Sheffield too!
Actually, I was never a huge Babybird fan. I've liked a few of his songs, but never fallen for a whole album. This one took me by surprise. I liked the lead single, Unlovable, enough to give it a shot - and boy, was I glad I did. There's honesty, wit and a refreshing lack of cliche about his songwriting, particularly on tracks like Failed Suicide Club, the heartbreaking Rest Of Our Lives (one of my Songs of the Year) and the Daily Mail-baiting Like Them...
6. Justin Currie - The Great War
More mature songwriting and world weary cynicism from the ex-Del Amitri bloke, now writing the strongest material of his career.
I stand on a mountain of pitiful prose My mind is a fountain that pointlessly flows They give you a trophy if you make the kids scream But it's such a joke to me; how insipid I've been.
I hate the world they gave me, I hate the world they gave me
In Morrissey's absence, Justin Currie will be writing the story of my life this year.
Sigh.
5. Eels - Tomorrow Morning
More and more artists are shaking off the shackles of big corporate record deals (a new album every two years, please) and catering to a smaller, loyaler fanbase with far more frequent releases. E has released two albums this year (three in the last 18 months), and like James before him they were thematically linked. While Tim Booth & co. gave us an upbeat Saturday night record followed by a laid back Sunday morning, E gave us an album of heartbreak (End Times) followed by this... his most positive and forward-looking record to date.
4. Frank Turner - Rock 'n' Roll / Poetry Of The Deed
My most important musical find of 2010 (Amanda Palmer was second), Frank Turner is another artist who combines the fire, lyrical nous and inspirational self-belief of young Bragg and Springsteen to show-stopping effect. He sings every song like his life depends on it. Our lives too. The sort of artist who doesn't need to carve 'For Real' into his forearm... he just is.
Strictly speaking, Poetry Of The Deed was released in 2009 (though Frank was still promoting it and releasing singles from it in 2010) and Rock 'n' Roll is a mini album, what they used to call an EP. But Frank Turner has been such an important discovery for me this year (his previous albums Sleep Is For The Week and Love, Ire & Song are also worthy of investigation), he deserved a place on this list. Very excited to hear what he does next.
3. Bruce Springsteen - The Promise
Another record that, strictly speaking, shouldn't really be here. After all, the tracks on this double album were mostly recorded in the mid-70s in preparation for Bruce's follow-up to Born To Run, Darkness On The Edge Of Town. You know the story by now... and if you don't, I doubt anything I say will make you care.
What strikes me most about listening to this record is how much bigger a pop star Bruce could have been in the 70s (prior to his eventual worldwide breakthrough in the 80s). Rejected songs like Fever, Because The Night and Someday We'll Be Together would have been massive radio hits, far more so than any of the tracks he actually chose to release. But that just wasn't where he wanted to be at that point in his career... you've got to respect that.
2. Ben Folds & Nick Hornby - Lonely Avenue
These days, Ben Folds seems to do his best work when he's working with somebody else. The Shatner album was inspired insanity, but hooking up with author Nick Hornby gave him possibly the strongest record of his solo career. A selection of short stories, from the heartwarming biog-song of Doc Pomus to a blues track based on Sarah Palin's unwanted son-in-law Levi Johnson ("I'm a fuckin' redneck, I live to hang out with the boys, Play some hockey, do some fishin' and kill some moose") to the self-loving/self-loathing delights of A Working Day ("Some guy on the net thinks I suck and he should know - he's got his own blog.")
And then there's this... Belinda... my song of the year...
1. The Indelicates - Songs For Swinging Lovers
They did it again.
Scoring my favourite album of 2008 with their debut, American Demo, the Indelicates returned to prove there's no such thing as Difficult Second Album Syndrome (and they're already working on their third). Broadening their musical horizons in all kinds of different directions (if I were a true muso, I'd namedrop Kurt Weill and the like - but what do I know about these things?), this is further proof of their genius. Witty, angry, iconoclastic, tender, surprising, joyful, intense, uncompromising... etc. etc. etc.
If you're expecting a Top Ten Snow Songs, go elsewhere. Me and snow, we're done. The divorce papers are with my solicitor and I want possession of the shovel. Bloody snow.
Instead, because I already did ghost songs, and because there's a new movie out in the UK this week called... erm... Monsters... here are some monsterrific tunes from my collection. No vampire or werewolf, Frankenstein or Dracula songs, maybe I'm saving those for a list of their own...
From their square name, L7 should have been a band of geeks like Weezer. Not a band of hot indie-chick psychos. This isn't quite as good as their greatest moment in the sun, Shitlist, but it's not bad.
Isn't self-pity great? I hereby declare it the most ace emotion ever! If I'm having a bad day, there's nothing more guaranteed to cheer me up than a good long bout of feeling sorry for myself.
You'd think that with all the money and groupies and cocaine and stuff, your average rock star wouldn't have much time for self-pity, yet they seem to get off on it almost as much as I do. Although to be fair, most of the anthems to self-loathing listed below come from early in the respective artist's career - by singing about how shit they felt, they made oodles of money and hence stopped feeling so shit about themselves... and then went on to stop writing such good songs, since happiness is rarely conducive to artistic greatness.
This is Volume 1 simply because there are so many great self-pity songs, I really couldn't narrow it down to just ten. I'll throw some more onto the fire the next time I'm feeling crappy. Do feel free to add your own suggestions in the comments box...
I don't care, I love this song. It encapsulates how shit it is to be a teenager, listening to Iron Maiden, unable to get the girl you want because she's dating a dick. The video features perpetual loser Jason Biggs trying to cop off with Mena Suvari (from Amy Heckerling's underrated teen-com Loser). The band followed this supreme ode to woe with an Erasure cover. Yes, a fucking ERASURE cover. They deserved to self-destruct after that. But as one-hit wonders go... wow.
Coming home from the school today Crying all along the way Ain't no way for a boy to be Begging ma to shave me please
You little punks think you own this town Well someday someone's gonna bring you down Life ain't pretty for a dog faced boy
E from the Eels has built a career on feeling sorry for himself, and understandly so when you consider some of the things that have happened to him. That said, he's always aware that things could be worse. He could always have a face like a shaggy mongrel.
If your name was Duff, you might expect your life to follow suit. So cheesed off that fate had robbed him by leaving that all-important 'y' off the end of his name - otherwise he might have been The Man From Atlantis or Bobby Ewing - Patrick Duff formed Strangelove and channeled all his negativity into this...
I walk the plastic streets Just like a monkey Just like a geek My scraping knuckles bleed I hear my Mummy crying out He's a freak I live a life alone And all my friends are gone It kind of turns me on I hate them one by one by one I'm a freak
7. Mansun - What It's Like To Be Hated
A song so utterly depressing, I can't even find it on youtube.
How are you feeling today, Paul Draper?
Ugly, scruffy, no one
Really?
Nasty, bitter, enraged
Right...
Hated, broken
Oh, come on now, cheer up - it can't be that bad.
Disturbed, unwanted at birth The fucking joke that we are I've never had any friends
I've built walls, A fortress deep and mighty, That none may penetrate. I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain. It's laughter and it's loving I disdain. I am a rock, I am an island.
See the genius of Paul Simon here is that, bad as he's feeling, he's actually convinced himself he's better off that way. There was a time in my life I lived by the following lines...
I have my books And my poetry to protect me; I am shielded in my armor, Hiding in my room, safe within my womb. I touch no one and no one touches me.
And if it all falls apart at sometime in the future, I'll live by them again.
I really should do a list of suicide anthems. And this really should be on it. But as it's possibly the best song Richard Thompson Jr.'s ever written, it deserves its place on this list too.
When Eric Carmen was young, he never needed anyone. Making love? Making love was just for fun! Sadly, those days are gone. Now he's living alone, thinking of all the friends he's known... but when he dials the telephone... nobody's home.
For many years, I thought that Beck sang "So - open up the door - I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?"
Only when it comes to writing this post do my investigations reveal he's actually singing "Soy un perdedor", which, according to the internet... is Spanish for "I'm a loser".
Of course, I could have compiled an entire Self-Pity Top Ten just from Smiths songs. And I could have made a Top Hundred just from sticking pins at random in Morrissey's solo catalogue. But none of them would have been quite as majestically miserable as this. It begins with Morrissey climbing into an empty bed he equates with a grave... and goes rapidly downhill from there. He then imagines a relationship with a potential partner who turns round and says to him these immortal words...
"If you're so funny Then why are you on your own tonight ? And if you're so clever Then why are you on your own tonight ? If you're so very entertaining Then why are you on your own tonight ? If you're so very good-looking Why do you sleep alone tonight ? I know ... 'Cause tonight is just like any other night That's why you're on your own tonight With your triumphs and your charms While they're in each other's arms..."
If you've never sat alone late at night and asked yourself these questions... count yourself very, very lucky.
Day 07 - A Song That Reminds You Of A Certain Event
I haven't forgotten this ongoing musical meme, honestly. Sometimes there just aren't enough blogging days in the week.
I wasn't looking forward to Sunday the 31st of August, 1997. Back then I was working in radio promotions and had been tasked with organising a huge Party In The Park event with loads of shitty pre-X-Factor style boy and girl bands and a humongous crowd of listeners. Worse still, my manager had gone off on holiday and pretty much left me to it. I'd been dreading the event for weeks - so much could go wrong, and it'd all be on my head.
And then, in the early hours of the big day, a Mercedes S-280 crashed in the Pont de l'Alma tunnel in Paris and our event - and along with hundreds more all across the world - was cancelled. Much has been written about the ridiculous levels of public mourning following the death of Princess Diana, but while I bore the woman no ill will, I couldn't help but breath a huge sigh of relief at her timing.
Your Lucky Day In Hell was the third single from the Eels' debut album and many expected it to follow the previous two into the higher reaches of the chart. Unfortunately, it was released the day after Di's death, by which time it had been withdrawn from every playlist in the country as radio stations went into mass panic mode and started playing Elton John 24/7.
Go on, tell me you'd rather hear Candle In The Wind '97...
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These, together with their sublime predecessor, the career best double album 
contain some of the strongest material Eels have ever recorded, and as it's getting on for ten years since I last saw them live, it was great to hear so many recent songs played on Tuesday night, along with earlier classics like Souljacker, Saturday Morning and, of course, their debut hit Novocaine For The Soul. The days when Eels troubled the singles chart are long since passed, but like many bands of their ilk they continue to produce records that are easily the equal of their rock star glory days. 
