Today’s theme is to feature a song you know all the words to. Easy, right? Yes, especially if you’re a girl like me who’s been singing all her life. I’ve sung with bands, at dinner parties, in church, for school plays and more. I even sang on the radio a couple of times. Big whoopty-damn-doo!! That’s not bragging; it’s just the facts. Everyone is good at something; I suck at math but I have a pretty good voice and a good memory for song lyrics. These days I only sing at home, just like when I was a little kid, and I still know all the words to a ton of songs.
The difficult part was choosing just one song to write about. If I wanted to make things easy for myself, I could have combined today’s theme with next week’s; I’m not saying what it is but in my case the two themes go hand in hand. After much back and forth, I finally chose one song I know all the words to – “A Day in the Life” by The Beatles.
I’m sure almost all of you will be very familiar with this song. John Lennon wrote the melody and most of the lyrics in mid-January 1967 with Paul McCartney contributing the middle-eight section and the pivotal line “I’d love to turn you on”.
The song has multiple themes going on. Number 1, the death of Tara Browne, the Guinness heir, which inspired the first two verses. Browne, a friend of John and Paul, died in a car crash in 1966. John said the song wasn’t a copy of the incident but rather an inspiration. The opening line … “I read the news today, oh boy” … combines English tragedy with a Buddy Holly verbal tic (an involuntary sound or word that’s uttered more than necessary).
The second theme, according to Paul, is about remembering what it was like to wake up late and run up the road to catch a bus to school, having a smoke and going into class where he’d daydream. It was a reflection of his schooldays.
Finally, the third theme – Potholes in Blackburn. The song’s final verse was inspired by an article in the Daily Mail about 4,000 potholes in Blackburn, Lancashire that needed to be filled. Lennon originally read that the town would receive 4,000 plastic circles to hang in the Albert Hall to improve the acoustics. A friend of John’s suggested that they would “fill” the Albert Hall instead.
The song became controversial for its supposed references to drugs. On May 20, 1967, during the BBC Light Programme’s preview of the Sgt. Pepper album, disc jockey Kenny Everett was prevented from playing “A Day in the Life”. The BBC announced that it would not broadcast the song due to the line “I’d love to turn youon”, which, according to the corporation, advocated drug use. Other lyrics allegedly referring to drugs include “found my way upstairs and had a smoke / somebody spoke and I went into a dream”. A spokesman for the BBC stated: “We have listened to this song over and over again. And we have decided that it appears to go just a little too far, and could encourage a permissive attitude to drug-taking.”
Due to the multiple takes required to perfect the orchestral parts and the final chord, the total time spent recording “A Day in the Life” was 34 hours.
Called the greatest Beatles’ song ever written, this is “A Day in the Life” from “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”. Sing along with me!
Lyrics
I read the news today, oh boy About a lucky man who made the grade And though the news was rather sad Well, I just had to laugh I saw the photograph He blew his mind out in a car He didn’t notice that the lights had changed A crowd of people stood and stared They’d seen his face before Nobody was really sure if he was from the House of Lords I saw a film today, oh boy The English Army had just won the war A crowd of people turned away But I just had to look Having read the book I’d love to turn you on
Woke up, fell out of bed Dragged a comb across my head Found my way downstairs and drank a cup And looking up, I noticed I was late Found my coat and grabbed my hat Made the bus in seconds flat Found my way upstairs and had a smoke And somebody spoke and I went into a dream
I read the news today, oh boy Four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire And though the holes were rather small They had to count them all Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall I’d love to turn you on
The claustrophobia started gradually for four-year-old Phoebe.
She had climbed into the back of her father’s flatbed truck to investigate the crates of chickens ready for market. Phoebe went unnoticed as her father threw a tarp over the back and locked the tailgate. When her dad found her, she was curled up in a ball, crying pitifully.
Over time, Phoebe seemed to forget about the incident in the truck.
Years later Phoebe was accidentally locked in her bedroom closet when a gust of wind blew through the window and slammed the closet door closed. Her parents were out and her older siblings were watching television; her frantic cries for help went unnoticed. Exhausted, Phoebe fell asleep in the closet, her family unaware. Her mother found her the next morning, traumatized.
Incidents like that kept happening. Phoebe became obsessed with her surroundings and her parents sought professional help. After eight years in the hospital, Phoebe was declared “cured”.
She met Evan, a great guy, and they began dating. Life was good again for Phoebe. For her birthday, Evan and Phoebe planned to see her favorite band. She felt safe with Evan and was unafraid to ride public transportation.
The train was packed. During one stop, Evan was pushed out with a crowd of passengers; the doors closed before he could get back in. Phoebe panicked when the train started up. She lost it.
At the last stop, Phoebe was found in the corner – disheveled, mumbling, eyes wild in terror. She was finally noticed.
“Stop lollygagging, you gang of pencil neck geeks, and get a move on! We don’t have a gazillion hours to waste. A performance awaits us so step lively. And speaking of step, watch yours. There’s goop about.
Greta! Grab hold of those goslings!
George! Stop giving Ginger googly eyes!
Glenda and Gloria! Quit gabbing!
Listen up, guys. Christmas will be here before you know it. If you don’t wanna get cooked, we gotta nail that ‘six geese a-laying’ verse. We need two more geese in our gaggle to make three groups of six.
This ovi poem is based on a horrible rollover accident from 2001 in which my husband and I were involved. The photo above is what was left of my car. I believe in God and I’m sure he was watching over us. It’s been 23 years but I still have dreams of that day.
So, I was on the road early this morning and there was a good deal of traffic. Fortunately, the long version of “Light My Fire” came on SiriusXM followed by a Rush yawn-athon. I won’t inflict Rush on you but here are the Doors. Knock yourselves out, kids!
This is Week 32 of Glyn’sMixed Music Bag and we are being asked to choose a song by a group or solo artist whose name begins with the letters O or P. This is my choice.
Formed in Hereford, England in March 1978 the Pretenders is an English/American rock group with the fabulous Chrissie Hynde behind the mic. The original band was formed by Hynde, who was the main songwriter, lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist, and included James Honeyman-Scott (lead guitar, backing vocals, keyboards), Pete Farndon (bass guitar, backing vocals), and Martin Chambers (drums, backing vocals, percussion).
Following the unfortunate deaths of Honeyman-Scott (1982) and Farndon (1983), both due to drugs, the band experienced numerous subsequent personnel changes, with Chrissie Hynde as the only consistent member, and Chambers returning after an absence of several years.
Hynde launched a solo career in 2014; after several years without performing, the Pretenders took to the road again in 2017. Chrissie Hynde and Ray Davies of The Kinks share a daughter, Natalie, born in 1983.
The Pretenders produced numerous hit songs including “Brass in Pocket”, “Back On the Chain Gang” and “Don’t Get Me Wrong”, as well as the 1994 hit “I’ll Stand By You”. Their eponymous debut studio album made the band famous with its combination of punk, rock and pop music. The band was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2005.
My song today is “Brass In Pocket“.
The phrase “brass in pocket” is British slang for having money in your pants. Chrissie Hynde heard the phrase backstage at one of their gigs in 1978 and immediately liked it. She later used it in the lyrics to their song “Brass In Pocket,” which is about a female singer approaching her first sexual encounter with confidence. The song was a breakthrough for the band and topped the UK charts in early 1980.
“Brass In Pocket” was released as the band’s third single. It was their first big success, reaching #1 on the UK Singles Chart for two weeks in January 1980 (making it the first new #1 single of the 1980s), #2 in Australia during May 1980 (for three weeks) and #14 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart in the United States. It was listed at #389 on Rolling Stone’s “Top 500 Greatest Songs of All Time” in 2021.
In the official video, Hynde portrays a lonely waitress in a backstreet cafe. The rest of the band play customers who arrive in a large pink 1959 Cadillac Fleetwood 60 Special. The three guys peruse the menus but are soon joined by their girlfriends. All six then leave the restaurant.
This is “Brass In Pocket” by the Pretenders.
Lyrics
I got brass in a pocket I got bottle, I’m gonna use it Intention, I feel inventive Gonna make you, make you, make you notice
Got motion, restrained emotion Been driving, Detroit leaning No reason, just seems so pleasing Gonna make you, make you, make you notice
Gonna use my arms, gonna use my legs Gonna use my style, gonna use my sidestep Gonna use my fingers, gonna use my, my, my Imagination
‘Cause I gonna make you see There’s nobody else here, no one like me I’m special (special) So special (special) I gotta have some of your attention, give it to me
I got rhythm, I can’t miss a beat I got a new skank, so reet Got something, I’m winking at you Gonna make you, make you, make you notice
Gonna use my arms, gonna use my legs Gonna use my style, gonna use my sidestep Gonna use my fingers, gonna use my, my, my Imagination
‘Cause I gonna make you see There’s nobody else here, no one like me I’m special (special) So special (special) I gotta have some of your attention, give it to me
‘Cause I gonna make you see There’s nobody else here, no one like me I’m special (special) So special (special) I gotta have some of your attention, give it to me
This is my 3rd story about Harvey and Fiona. For a look back at earlier installments, click here.
While Harvey slept during the day Fiona cleaned, shopped and cooked. She wanted a vacuum cleaner but Harvey said it was too expensive and the noise would keep him awake so she settled for a carpet sweeper. Their only chance to be together was at breakfast and dinner time – and of course for coffee and dessert when Fiona served Harvey his favorite apple pie. Fiona loved baking and it was all worth it to see the way Harvey’s face lit up every time she made another pie.
Fiona suggested a few times that it would be nice if Harvey worked during the day so they could be like a normal couple and spend more time together but her words fell on deaf ears.
She also longed for a baby. Each time she thought she was pregnant it turned out to be a false alarm. Fiona saw a doctor who wasn’t very sympathetic; he shrugged his shoulders, gave her ambiguous explanations and performed a couple of routine tests. He told her it was just one of those things; not all couples could get pregnant. When Fiona finally got up the nerve to mention to Harvey what the doctor told her, he laughed and said it wasn’t his fault she couldn’t get pregnant; “Just ask that sweet little Frenchie I knocked up during the war” was his mean-spirited reply.
Fiona felt like she’d been kicked in the gut. When she cried that she needed something other than chores to fill her lonely days, Harvey yelled to “go get a job and start earnin’ ya keep around here! Who needs another mouth to feed anyways?” Fiona was reeling; how could he say such hurtful things? Heartbroken, she eventually gave up on having a baby and found a job as a presser in a shirt factory. The work was exhausting and she still had to clean the apartment and cook for Harvey … and bake.
What happened to the guy she married? Harvey was constantly annoyed about something or other and drank more now than usual. He got mean when he drank and Fiona bore the brunt of his anger. When he demanded sex every night before going to work, she kept her mouth shut but she was silently screaming. This was no way to exist, like a piece of property and not a person. She’d lie awake at night remembering her mother’s warning words: “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Can’t you see he’s no good for you? I don’t trust him, Fina girl!” The only thing in her God-forsaken life that she truly enjoyed was baking and she did it all for Harvey.
Fiona would fantasize about how lovely it would be to have her own little bake shop; she’d make lots of delicious cakes and pies for her large following of loyal customers – not just for her selfish husband. She knew she could do it if she only had the chance.
To be continued. For a look back at earlier installments, click here.
Mary went rigid and her soft brown eyes filled with tears when she saw the orthodontist’s bill. With no dental insurance, she’d have to find some way to defray the expense.
For the past few nights my sleep hasn’t been good but last night was the worst of all. We had a power failure! This was definitely not cool! No AC and nowhere to go to escape the heat. My apartment was dark and all the lightsoutside were off so I knew this was a widespread blackout, likely coveringmiles and involving the entire apartment complex. I aimed a flashlight at the thermometer on my balcony. Big mistake: it read 98º! Somehow knowing the temperature made it worse. And the mix of humidity and heat made everything feel gross. I desperately needed to get some rest. Winding my way into the bedroom, I heard a sound like heavy breathing coming from the bathroom. Sweeping the room with my flashlight, I located the source of the sound and I simply had to laugh; my dog Fred found somewhere to hide away from the heat and was fast asleep on the floor of the marble shower! This oppressive weather had done a number on him, too, poor guy. I was drained of all energy. I grabbed a small battery operated fan from the shelf, set it for high and collapsed onto the bed. I was asleep in seconds.
Today at Song Lyric Sunday, Jim has asked us to choose a song that begins with the same letter as our first name. For me that would be the letter N. Here is my song.
L-R Nancy Sinatra Jr, Frank Sinatra Sr, Nancy Sinatra Sr, Frank Sinatra Jr; in front Tina Sinatra, 1948
When I say “here is my song” I really mean MY song. From the time I was a baby and able to understand a few words, this song was special to me. As I got older it became even more special … particularly when my dad would sing it. There are a lot of memories attached to this song; I honestly thought it was written for me and that Frank Sinatra was singing it directly to me. You may recall from another of my posts that my dad hated Sinatra; this may be the only song by Frank that Dad liked. My sister Rosemarie really hated my song because she didn’t like any of HER songs; she’d whine that her songs weren’t as pretty and personal as mine and she’d get annoyed every time it was played. But the thing she hated the most was the line “sorry for you, she has no sister”! I guess I can’t blame her for that!
Have you figured out what my song is? Since it was made popular by Frank Sinatra most people wrongly assumed the song was composed specifically for his daughter. Well, that was a pretty big clue so you must know the answer by now! My song choice for today’s Song Lyric Sunday is “Nancy (With the Laughing Face)”.
The music for the song was composed in 1942 by Jimmy Van Heusen with lyrics written by comedian/lyricist Phil Silvers; it was originally called “Bessie (With the Laughing Face)”. Bessie? Who the hell was Bessie? Well, back in 1942 there was a famous lyricist named Johnny Burke who was married to our mysterious Bessie. Jimmy Van Heusen and Phil Silvers wrote the song for their friend Johnny Burke as a surprise for his wife Bessie’s birthday.
All the women at Bessie Burke’s birthday party loved the song so much, they started requesting that it be sung at their parties as well. Apparently Frank Sinatra wasn’t at any of those parties because when his friends Jimmy Van Heusen and Phil Silvers sang the song as “Nancy (With the Laughing Face)” at little Nancy Sinatra’s birthday party, Frank broke down and cried, thinking it had been written especially for his daughter! Johnny Burke, Jimmy Van Heusen and Phil Silvers wisely didn’t correct him.
In 1944, Frank Sinatra recorded the song as “Nancy (With the Laughing Face)” and it became a fan favorite. When I was born several years later, the song became a favorite in our house as well.
This is “Nancy” by Frank Sinatra
Lyrics
If I don’t see her each day, I miss her Gee, what a thrill each time I kiss her Believe me, I’ve got a case On Nancy with the laughin’ face She takes the winter and makes it summer But summer could take some lessons from her Picture a tomboy in lace That’s Nancy with the laughin’ face Did you ever hear mission bells ringin’? Well, she’ll give you the very same glow When she speaks you would think it was singin’ Just hear her say hello I swear to goodness you can’t resist her Sorry for you, she has no sister No angel could replace Nancy with the laughin’ face
Keep Betty Grable, Lamour and Turner She makes my heart a charcoal burner It’s heaven when I embrace My Nancy with the laughin’ face
The life of a special agent is a lonely one. It’s nothing like a James Bond movie or a John le Carré novel.
There were no pens that turned into parachutes. There were no Alfa Romeos, Jaguars or Aston Martins to drive along the Positano coast in a high-speed chase. Not a single suave and dangerous owner of a multi-million dollar casino. Nary a gorgeous, exotic, provocative sex bomb with a highly suggestive name. There were no martinis … neither shaken nor stirred.
In short, there was no excitement, no risk, no action. Not once did I dive behind a sofa while bullets flew across the room. Never did I slide down a roof covered with Mediterranean tiles, land smoothly in my waiting MG and speed away from the bad guys. I have never been shot in the neck with a poison dart. Never was I threatened and tossed out a window by a jealous husband.
That’s the life I was expecting when I was recruited by the Enigma International Elite Investigative Organization .… otherwise known as E.I.E.I.O. My dream profession as a super-secret special agent was nothing but one boring stakeout after another.
Time to report in: “Negative, sir. Nothing going on at the location. Not even the car in the alley has moved.”
“Alley?”
“Yes, sir. On the left.”
“Your target has no alley, Hammer; it’s attached on both sides. You’re watching the wrong house, you idiot! Report to headquarters. Now!”
Eileen gathered some boxes from the attic and began to pack up her late husband’s belongings; Ned always told Eileen he wanted his things donated to the men’s shelter.
Now the drawer was empty except for a folder; inside Eileen found Ned’s sketches of their lake. Leafing through them, Eileen was outraged to see drawings of her sister Denise in the lake dated 2023 – the last time she visited. Ned and Denise had a fling years ago but Ned ended it – or so he said.
Eileen put the sketches back into the folder. Time for a little chat with Denise.
Bill & Jim working on yet another crossword puzzle together
Tomorrow will be 4 months since my husband’s identical twin brother died suddenly. His wife returned home from a walk and found him on the bedroom floor; she said he was still warm. The news felt like an arrow ripped through our hearts. Jim was dead. How was my sister-in-law ever again going to walk into her bedroom without picturing her husband’s body? How was my husband Bill going to face the rest of his life as the lone twin? At one time there were three brothers; now there is only Bill. This is the most difficult trial for him. My husband lost a piece of himself that day. We are numb, disbelieving, questioning, dazed, numb, numb, so unbelievably numb.
You know how people say that time flies? Not when it comes to Jim; time has stopped for us. Logically we know he’s dead but our hearts cannot accept it. It’s unbelievable, inconceivable for us. It doesn’t feel possible. We function normally every day, do the same old crap, talk and eat and laugh. We watch movies, go shopping, pay bills, gab on the phone, babysit. We live the same lives we lived before Jim died except he’s not here to share them and we cannot wrap our heads around that. It just doesn’t feel like he’s dead. He should be here. It’s not right that he’s not here. It’s like someone has played the cruelest joke on us.
Now, when my sister-in-law looks at Bill, it’s Jim’s face she sees. And sometimes when I look at my husband, I see Jim and I find myself pondering why Jim was the twin who was taken.
I am Bill’s wife but Jim was his other half.
save them in your heart golden summer memories for when winter comes
City Island, Bronx NY circa 1950 No idea who’s who!
Written for Glyn Wilton’s Mixed Music Bag week #31and our final week showcasing the letters M & N. I chose M.
I’ve chosen to close out July with a 1963 high octane hit by an incredible Motown girl group.
In 1957 friends Annette Beard, Rosaline Ashford and Gloria Williams formed the group known as the Del-Phis; eventually Martha Reeves joined the group. In 1961 the group’s name was changed to The Vels. Right around this time Gloria Williams left the group and Martha Reeves moved up in ranks as lead vocalist. In 1967 the name was changed for a third time to Martha and the Vandellas. During a nine-year run from 1963-1972, the group charted over 26 hits recorded in the styles of doo-wop, R&B, pop, blues, rock and roll and soul. In 1995, Martha and the Vandellas was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.
“Heat Wave” was written in 1963 by the songwriting team of Holland-Dozier-Holland and was a hit for Martha and the Vandellas. Released as a single on the Motown subsidiary Gordy label, the song garnered a Grammy Award nomination …. the first Motown group to ever do so. The single reached #1 on the Billboard Hot R&B chart …. where it stayed for four weeks …. and peaking at #4 on the Billboard Hot 100. Billboard named the song #12 on their list of 100 Greatest Girl Group Songs.
Instrumentation for “Heatwave” was done by The Funk Brothers, a group of Detroit-based session musicians who performed the backing to most Motown recordings from 1959 until 1972 when the company moved to Los Angeles.
“Heat Wave” was one of the first songs to exemplify the style of music later termed as the “Motown Sound”. Here are Martha and the Vandellaswith their 1963 hit, “Heat Wave”.
Lyrics
Whenever I’m with him Something inside starts to burning And I’m filled with desire Could it be the devil in me Or is this the way love’s supposed to be?
It’s like a heat wave It’s burning in my heart I can’t keep from burning It’s tearing me apart
Whenever he calls my name so softly and plain Right then, right there, I feel that burning flame Has high blood pressure got a hold on me? Is this the way love’s supposed to be?
It’s like a heat wave It’s burning in my heart I can’t keep from burning It’s tearing me apart
Sometimes I stare in space Tears all over my face I can’t explain it, don’t understand it I ain’t never felt like this before
Now this funny feeling has me amazed Don’t know what to do, my head’s in a haze It’s like a heat wave
Yeah yeah Yeah yeah Ha oh yeah
Yeah yeah Yeah yeah Oh yeah
I feel it burning right here in my heart Don’t you know it’s like a heat wave?
Yeah yeah Yeah yeah Oh
Don’t you know it’s like a heat wave Burning right here in my heart?
Written for Sunday Whirl Wordle 665 where we are to turn the word salad shown below into a story or poem. Here is my story.
tangle surface call back deep room kisses edge sense sketches silhouette windswept
SHADOW MAN
It was a sense rather than actually seeing … his unmistakable silhouette inching closer to the back of my room. I used to have dreams where I would find myself stuck in a deep well and I would call out to anyone up on the surface for help. He would run to the well and drop a rope over the edge. I would climb up, elated to be rescued! My windswept hair was in a tangle and I reached out to pull him closer, to have him take me into his arms and trail warm kisses down my neck … but he was only a shadow and not a real man. I would awaken, saddened by the thought that my dreams would never come true. But tonight, as I recline on my bed tracing sketches of him on the sheet with my finger, I feel his presence in flesh and blood; I am eager to embrace my mysterious shadow man.
The sound of laughter drifted up from the street below, making Gregory feel very alone.
It’s hard to imagine life without her. When the hell did everything start to unravel?
Now he sat alone in the shell of their apartment, baseball game on the tv playing for no one, nursing his second scotch. This place used to be alive with people enjoying one of their famous parties. When he closed his eyes he could hear their friends’ lively discussions and the sound of her spirited laugh.
Everyone said they were the perfect couple. Theirs was a comfortable, easy marriage – dinner at Gallagher’s, cycling along Riverside Drive, steamy showers after Saturday morning sex. They were in sync in their choices of movies, paint colors and the biggest decision of all .… neither one wanted kids.
He sat there, head in hands while a thousand thoughts went through his mind. When did he begin having second thoughts? Was it when her sister asked them to be godparents for her first baby? Was it watching the kids in the playground across the street? All he could remember was the night he whispered in her ear that he wanted to have a baby.
She was blindsided. What? No! He was just named partner at Central Casting. She was food editor for Country Living magazine. Life was perfect. They had an agreement, dammit!
Would she just consider thinking about it? No! How could he spring this on her now?
Days, weeks went by. She remained adamant, distant. Then one day he came home after work and she was gone.
Here he sat alone with his scotch, ballgame long over, thumb rubbing his wedding band while he stared at divorce papers.
It couldn’t have happened to a more perfect couple.
Today at Song Lyric Sunday the theme is to choose a song beginning with the same letter as my last name, which is R. Here is my feature.
Before you could send a text or call someone in their car, there was no way to communicate with a driver unless you had a certain telepathic love that could convey from a distance your desire to be with that person, something you might call – oh, I don’t know – maybe something like radar love.
In the song “Radar Love”, the MC has been driving all night but keeps pushing the pedal because he just knows that his baby wants him home. In his rush to be with her, he drives recklessly and dies in a car accident. Tragic, isn’t it? But perhaps all is not lost, as the song suggests …. the MC and his lover continue to have a radar love connection in the afterlife.
“Radar Love” was written in 1973 by the Dutch group, Golden Earring. Members at the time were lead vocalist Barry Hay, bass and keyboardist Rinus Gerritsen, Cesar Zuiderwijk on drums & percussion and George Kooymans, vocals and lead guitar. The single version reached #9 on the Record World chart, #10 on Cash Box and #13 on Billboard in the US. It hit the Top 10 in many countries, including the UK, Canada, Australia, Canada, Germany, and Spain.
Like other famous songs of the era such as “Bohemian Rhapsody” and “Stairway To Heaven”, “Radar Love” was composed as a suite with several distinctive and quite different sections. According to radar-love.net, the song has been covered more than 500 times.
This is “Radar Love” by Golden Earring
LYRICS
I’ve been drivin’ all night, my hand’s wet on the wheel
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are asked to get creative in 250 words or less using the photo prompt below for inspiration. Here is my story.
“Woods. Roger Woods. Please check again” I implored the desk clerk at the Hotel Moderne.
“I’m sorry, madame, there is no reservation for that name.” The young man looked at me with a mixture of embarrassment and pity.
“You must be mistaken” I replied, my voice shaking.
“There is no mistake, madame. Perhaps you have the wrong hotel” the clerk suggested, offering me an out.
Of course I didn’t have the wrong hotel! Roger and I had been meeting here the second weekend of every month for three years.
I checked my phone for missed text messages or calls from Roger; there were none. Rather than stay in the lobby looking distraught and abandoned, I sat in the lounge and ordered a martini. I had a clear view of the front desk on the left and the entrance on the right. I’d be able to see Roger the moment he arrived.
After thirty minutes and two martinis, I began feeling paranoid. It was painfully obvious, at least to me, that I looked like a lonesome and tedious woman who had been stood up.
I became aware of someone approaching. Expecting to see Roger, I looked up, smiling; it was the concierge. Whispering discreetly, he handed me a note: “Dearest Cecile. I cherish our little rendezvous but it’s time to go our separate ways. Farewell. Roger”
‘Our little rendezvous!‘ I was shattered. Just like that, as unexpectedly as it began, it was over.
Looking straight ahead, I gracefully exited the hotel.
“Yeah, but I had to shell out more money for it” grumbled Joe-Bob.
“That rat bastard! Hand it over … and a flashlight.” Ray demanded.
“This is primo, Joe-Bob! Gimme six Ds, will ya?”
Ray inserted the Ds and turned on his newly acquired battery-operated fan.
“Listen, Joe-Bob. When Uncle Lester died, he left me a slew of money. I’m gonna buy a state-of-the-art, solar-powered, non-electric RV. I’m stocking up batteries ‘cos when that asshole gets elected, gas and electric prices will be insane. I’m finally gonna beat the man!”
Welcome to Birthday Thursdays! Each week I will feature someone from the world of music whose birthday falls on this day. There won’t be any chit chat from me, no facts and figures – just some great tunes (and an occasional surprise). Check it out right here every Thursday and enjoy the music.
Happy Birthday to Bruce Woodley Born July 25, 1942 in Melbourne, Australia
Written for Glyn’s Mixed Music Bag Week #30where we are asked to write about a song by a groupor solo singer beginning with the letter M or N.This is my contribution.
When I was a teenager, my father and I would have the same disagreement at least every other week. It all revolved around my father’s comments regarding Frank Sinatra. His words never changed: “If you want to listen to Frank Sinatra, go ahead. I’ll be in another room.”
And, even though I knew what he was going to say, I asked anyway: “Why don’t you like Frank Sinatra, Dad? He’s a great singer!” My father would reply “I know he’s a great singer and performer but he’s a lousy, no-good womanizing bum who hangs out with gangsters and is a disgrace to his Italian roots. I like Sinatra, the “artist” but I have no use for Sinatra, the “man”!”
Of course, I couldn’t resist fanning the flames just a bit more by saying something like “Frank Sinatra doesn’t even know you exist! It’s not his personal life but his artistic contributions that people should care about.” And we’d dance around that argument for half an hour or so until my mother finally threatened us with bodily harm.
So, isn’t it ironic that I am now saying something quite similar to what my father said all those years ago?
And it’s all about my featured artist today. I never dreamed I would be featuring Paul McCartney today (or any other day). If I were to rank The Beatles in order by my personal favorite, Paul would come in 5th! All kidding aside, I’m not a fan of Paul McCartney, the “man”, but I freely admit that he is one of the most talented musicians to have graced us with his work. Today I’m showcasing two of his pieces from his incredibly prolific solo career.
The first song is called “Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying” which is done very much in the style of a jazzy Billy Joel. This is NOT the Gerry and the Pacemakers’ hit we all know and love. Written in 1946 by Joe Greene, this number is included on the 1990 LP by McCartney called “Tripping the Live Fantastic.“ Let’s have a listen.
This is “Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying” by Paul McCartney.
The second song is a piece entitled “Used To Be Bad” which harkens back to the sounds of The Steve Miller Band and ZZ Top (not surprising since it was co-written by McCartney and Miller). This one is a bluesy number which keeps going from start to finish and can be found on McCartney’s 1997 “Flaming Pie” LP. Upon its release, the time was ripe for McCartney to deliver an album steeped in Beatles lore and that’s exactly what he claimed “Flaming Pie” was all about.
This is “Used To Be Bad” by the one and only Macca.
I hope you enjoyed hearing a little McCartney today as well as my personal reflection and the videos I chose for you. I hope you Paul lovers aren’t too pissed off!
Written for Six Sentence Story where we are challenged to incorporate the word “platform” into a story of exactly six sentences. Here’s my six.
Flower child, barefoot Woodstock hippie …. no, she was never one of those; she was always the sophisticated cool one with her oh so very low-rise jeans, alluring halter tops, ridiculously high platform shoes and drop dead smile.
At twenty she was chic in a smooth and sensual way that was second nature, never one who had to try too hard; she had IT while embracing her imperfections which made her intoxicatingly irresistible.
Living in the fast lane, she danced all night at clubs, rocked out at concerts and hung out with everyone from judges to junkies even though she never really enjoyed drugs with the exception of the indescribably exquisite quaalude which now, at 75, she smiles and remembers coming on to the sounds of Procol Harum.
Memories of 1967, the Summer of Love …. friends and lovers, never a lack of either; men were drawn to her and women were envious of her but it was impossible not to like her.
She was no alley cat, no “screw-‘em-in-the-disco-bathroom” type; she made the rules to her game: never do anything you don’t want to and stop whenever you feel uncomfortable.
Her life was and still is a passionate one with no useless regrets, inadequate apologies or unbelievable explanations …. only her scars which show a life well lived …. and that’s exactly how she likes it.
It had been quite a long while since Rob and I had a chance to take a vacation, to escape the madness of the city to someplace remote and peaceful. Skiing sounded like a good idea, a break after the unbearably hot summer. All we wanted was a little get-away to relax and unwind.
Our Google search brought us to a place called Marmot Basin located in Jasper, an alpine town in Canada’s Alberta province. The photos were breathtaking; the area was one of the most natural and unsoiled landscapes we’d ever seen. The site said Jasper was “an authentic mountain community that managed to retain a cozy, warm and ‘real’ atmosphere with a laid-back vibe”. It was also one of North America’s largest protected nature preserves. It would be great to get lost for a few days, forget about our hectic lives.
The flight to Jasper was interminable; eight hours with a connection in Denver. The time change did a number on us physically but our welcoming and romantic chateau more than made up for the tedious travel. It was rustic yet charming with beamed ceilings, comfy furniture and a huge fireplace. We spent our first night snuggled up in bed.
Right after breakfast the next morning we set out for a day of skiing. Hoping to find a secluded trail, we consulted one of the guides who gave us a couple of suggestions. We headed out, delighted to see a pristine layer of powdery snow. Looking around we realized we were the only people in the area and there was nothing in sight except evergreens on the hillside.
We started off slowly then gradually picked up speed; the conditions were perfect. About twenty minutes into our run we came upon a split in the trail. Taking a break, Rob leaned against a tree and consulted a map, deciding which way we should go. Suddenly we felt movement beneath our feet and the ground gave way in what sounded like a whispering waterfall. In an instant we were tumbling down, enveloped by cascades of snow.
It seemed like an eternity before I came to a stop. I was unable to move but realized I was still clutching my pole. Somehow I managed to wrangle my arm free from under my body and began whacking the snow above me. I didn’t know if I was under three feet of snow or thirty; I had to try to free myself. Snow kept falling on me as I hacked away. Slowly my grave became brighter and I realized a magicsliver of sunlight was peeking through. I heaved myself into an upright position and broke through the snow.
It was a struggle but I managed to climb out and started yelling for Rob. All I heard was my echo; everything was deathly silent. I found my phone in the inside pocket of my ski suit and dialed Rob’s number hoping to hear his phone ring; I heard nothing. Checking my phone I saw there was no cell service in the area; I couldn’t even call for help. Gingerly I walked around a bit, all too aware the ground could give way at any moment. My only hope was to try to find help.
I must have walked for miles; the sun had set and I found myself surrounded by trees. I had no idea where I was. Exhausted, I fell to my knees, sobbing. If Rob was still buried in the snow there was no chance of finding him alive.
Through my tears I thought I saw a glimmer of light. I squinted and could barely make out the shape of a cabin in the woods. Was it real or magic? Was I hallucinating? I had to keep moving or I would surely die during the frigid night. Slowly I got to my feet and walked toward the light, praying it was not an illusion. I was so very tired; if only I could close my eyes just take a little rest before I continued. It was so bitterly cold.
Today’s theme at Song Lyric Sunday is all about songs that feature great guitar riffs. Here’s my response. 🎸
My featured song today has one of the most recognizable and oft-played riffs in rock ’n’ roll history – solid, simple and catchy as hell. And yet, as Deep Purple singer Ian Gillan once said, “Smoke On The Watermight never have been released”, because initially the band didn’t think of it as anything special.
In the winter of 1971, when Purple began work on the Machine Head album in Montreux, Switzerland, guitarist Ritchie Blackmore played the riff in their first jam session, and as Gillan recalled: “We didn’t make a big deal out of it. It was just another riff. We didn’t work on the arrangement – it was a jam.”
But by the end of the recording sessions they came up short of material, and so, in Gillan’s words, “We dug out that jam and put vocals to it.” Blackmore played his Strat and was plugged into – as far as Gillan could recall – “a Vox AC30 and/or a Marshall”. Over that mighty riff, the singer told the true story of how the Montreux casino – where Purple had been scheduled to record – burned down in a fire that started during a Frank Zappa concert. The lyrics “someone stupid with a flare gun burned the place to the ground” were born and with that, a deathless rock classic was created.
This is “Smoke On The Water” by Deep Purple.
Lyrics
We all came out to Montreux On the Lake Geneva shoreline To make records with a mobile, yeah We didn’t have much time now
Frank Zappa and the Mothers Were at the best place around But some stupid with a flare gun Burned the place to the ground
Smoke on the water, a fire in the sky (Smoke) on the water, you guys are great
They burned down the gambling house It died with an awful sound Funky Claude was running in and out He was pulling kids out the ground now
When it all was over Find another place Swiss time was running out It seemed that we would lose the race
Smoke on the water, a fire in the sky Smoke on the water
Burn it down
We ended up at the Grand Hotel It was empty, cold and bare The Rolling truck Stones thing just outside Huh, making our music there now
With a few red lights and a few old beds We made a place to sweat No matter what we get out of this I know, I know we’ll never forget
Smoke on the water, a fire in the sky Smoke on the water (I can’t hear anything)
Written for Six Sentence Story where we are challenged to incorporate the word “wire” into a story of exactly six sentences. Here’s my six.
There are parts of Jersey City which are very dangerous …. dingy bars, seedy hotels, mob-run strip joints and dark alleys where unspeakable things happened; Jack Black had a taste for all of them.
Most nights Jack would slither into his favorite bar, sit in the shadows on the end barstool, case the joint, nurse his bourbon and smoke his Lucky Strikes; Jack had patience and sooner or later she’d walk in …. maybe a secretary working late or a bored and lonely housewife.
About 20 minutes later, a woman ran in from the rain and glanced around the room, her eyes ignoring Jack as she shook her damp dark brown hair, then headed to the bar and ordered a martini; she rummaged through her purse searching for her cigarette lighter and just as Jack was about to make his move, the bartender offered her a light.
Jack toyed with the electrical wire in his pocket, annoyed at missing his opportunity to talk up this new beauty, but the night was young and he had all the time in the world.
Cool as a cucumber, Jack watched as the woman sipped her martini and smoked her cigarette, but when she asked the bartender for a menu, Jack knew he had been given a second chance and his fingers did a tap dance of anticipation around the wire in his pocket; just then the door swung open and a man blew in and when the woman at the bar spotted him, she ran to him and they embraced as she exclaimed that he was right on time as dinner would be coming out any second.
Jack was not a happy boy at this turn of events and, seeing no reason to hang around, he opened the door to leave and walked right into a gorgeous blonde; laying on the charm, Jack apologized profusely and offered to buy the woman a drink to which she smiled, agreed and replied that she was bored which was …. as she put it …. a fate worse than death.
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are encouraged to be creative in 250 words or less using the photo below as inspiration. This is my story.
He was neither old nor young and if he had memories … good, bad, happy or sad … they were long forgotten, washed away like tears in rain.
His hand reached for his breast pocket, fingers touching the familiar object resting inside. A harmonica. He had no idea where it came from nor did he know why it was in his pocket yet somehow with an intrinsic knowledge he knew it was his.
Removing the instrument from his pocket, he stared at it as he reverently caressed the wood, reading the faded inscription. Raising it to his mouth, he began to play an old tune he forgot he even knew.
People passing by dropped coins into the white cloth shopping bag at his feet. He might not remember much but he’d never forget the delicious aroma of the crusty baguette in his bag.
A little boy of perhaps eight years of age shyly approached, dropped a coin in the man’s bag and ran back to his father waiting nearby. There was something about the older man that made the boy’s father pause for just a moment.
This ritual continued for several days and the two men pensively acknowledged each other with a nod.
One day before the boy ran back to his father, the man slipped the harmonica into his hand. When the boy’s father read the inscription, he knew. He looked up but the older man was gone.
He closed his eyes as a teardrop landed on the harmonica.
“Lieutenant! We’re getting a reading from the drone!”
“Gimme that, Krebbs! It shows beyond these woods is a clearing with what appears to be life forms. Round up the team; let’s check this out.”
Guns drawn, the squad stealthily worked its way to the clearing. Slowly they emerged; the lieutenant pushed back his fedora and whistled through his teeth.
“Well, lookie here! It’s the MIA grunge band, Rockit Gibraltar!”
“Are they dead, Lieutenant?”
“Nah! They’re stoned. Must be that ramped-up drug …. Double Rubble. Call for a chopper, one equipped with a boulder holder. This ain’t no soft rock band!“
The Elephant's Trunk 