I wouldn’t ever claim to be a film buff despite the fact that there was a time when I saw every movie as soon as it hit the cinema (a year boarding as a teenager in Peterhead saw to that - nae much tae dee in the bloo toun once you’ve seen the carrots on the beach and counted both the trees). Times move on though and I’ve become a bit more discerning in the 30 odd years that have passed. So much so that I seldom find anything that I really want see enough to drag my lazy arse across town to the multiplex. Son of Rambow was one such film but alas, I never made it before it closed. This is the case for most films I want to see – still haven’t made it to the see The Boat That Rocked yet.
I guess big flat tellys, surround sound and lovefilm.com have filled that gap for me and all the thousands like me who, when presented with the chance to see a movie, end up seeing Marley & me or some ridiculous American teen flick starring the insanely attractive and, only just, post-pubescent face of Hollywood.
Shit, if you could bottle that stuff none of us would ever have to work again.
Just slug back some of the old Cyrus-Efron Elixir and you’re literally shagtastic on a major scale within seconds. Perfect teeth; perfect skin; perfect pecs; lean and mean and hung like a donkey – OK, I guess Miley Cyrus isn’t hung like a donkey but I’m sure you get the picture, which is about as close to reality as some of those movies.
Anyway, finally I watched Son of Rambow the other night and I was reminded of what my childhood was like and more so, what a cosseted bunch our kids are today.
The Nanny State; treated with kid gloves; robbed of their childhood.
All statements we readily drop into conversation when pontificating about our kids and their health, safety and welfare.
Searching online a while back for canoe hire in the West Highlands, I was reminded of the times when, as a kid, I used to go canoeing in an old crapped out wooden canoe that leaked like a bastard. On more than one occasion, along with a couple of mates, I simply had to get out of the damn thing and turn it upside down to empty it before it sank.
We used to go rock climbing in a disused sandstone quarry.
We used to climb trees, make rope swings and create fantasy jungles in the local woods.
We used to set up speedway come scrambling circuits using all sorts of junk to make jumps and obstacles.
I even remember one time, making a jump out of an old panelled door and some paint pots. To make it interesting, someone had the bright idea of setting fire to some of the paint pots at the end of the ramp.
All good clean fun. OK, maybe not clean, but still good fun to a twelve year old.
All of this and not a helmet or knee pad in sight. No life jackets or buoyancy aids
No ropes.
No fear!
All this before Indiana Jones was even a twinkle in Speilberg’s eye.
Admittedly the water was barely deep enough to drown a Chihuahua and the quarried rock face was probably no more than six feet at a time, but hey, we were kids, it seemed huge and wonderfully daring at the time. It was an adventure and nobody got hurt (much).
I do remember though, once skidding my bike a little too horizontally on a bend and ending up with a pebble dashed left leg that left me picking out gravel for days but hey, by the end of that lot I felt like Eddy Merckx, Barry Briggs and the Milk Tray man all rolled into one.
I dare say a lot of the things we got up to were things we weren’t really allowed to do but there was no mention of ‘don’t do that, it might be dangerous’. It was just what we did. We were kids.
Now, we worry our kids’ lives away.
Even now I can’t bear to pull the old pound of bananas on my head yet I find myself berating my youngest for cycling with no helmet.
Statements like ‘at least if she’s upstairs on the Nintendo I know where she is’ are tossed about like feathers in the wind.
Even for adults, the fear of litigation and fatal accident enquiries, borne out of a blame culture, means we can’t hire anything without paying extra for insurance, tuition, safety equipment and disclaimers.
Anyway, enough of that shite.
Went to see Neil Young on Thursday.
No real expectation.
Just thought it was time.
Been a bit of a fan for over thirty years so it had to be done.
I’d heard all the stories like the one a few years back about when he played his entire new album (Prairie Wind I think) track by track then, announcing that the audience probably wanted to hear something they’d heard before, proceeded to play the first track again.
I was well aware of his propensity for 20 minute, meandering guitar solos and I’d heard that he could just go off on a political wobbler.
I’d already missed out on his shows last year but at half a ton for a ticket, AECC or not, concrete floor or not, it had to be done.
This was Neil Young.
The man’s a f4ckin’ legend.
Opening with Hey Hey, My My was a taster for what was to come.
A rampaging slice through forty odd years of rock history.
To sum it up.
Two songs I didn’t know.
One spot of self-indulgence on Down By The River.
A cover of A Day In The Life for an encore.
In one word…
Amazing!
And so the music…
Neil Young – Aberdeen AECC, 24.06.2009
http://www.sendspace.com/file/egonok
And from the night before
Neil Young – Nottingham, 23.06.2009
http://www.sendspace.com/file/jjwp2k
Drever, McCusker & Woomble – ABC Theatre Glasgow
http://www.sendspace.com/file/efoj8w
Pale Saints – The Comforts of Madness
http://www.sendspace.com/file/ihb6ul
Richmond Fontaine – Edinburgh, September 30th 2004
http://www.sendspace.com/file/8boe19
Son Volt 15.02.2009
http://www.sendspace.com/file/hf5r8a
Blind Pilot – Arlington 27.03.2009
http://www.sendspace.com/file/maywdz
Joan Osborne - Live 17.09.1995
http://www.sendspace.com/file/cprsic
Waterboys - Birmingham Humminbird 17.02.1989
http://www.sendspace.com/file/haoah4
Gin Blossoms – Konocti, 22.05.2009
http://www.sendspace.com/file/i9j6zj
Eddi Reader – Stirling Albert Halls, 06.05.2009
http://www.sendspace.com/file/0ydwmp
Del Amitri – Cleveland 1996
http://www.sendspace.com/file/x1rgc0
...and finally, complete with the anthem for Carribean cruise lovers everywhere...
Iggy Pop – Waves Club, Chicago, 1980
http://www.sendspace.com/file/88ioc0
Enjoy
Hooli
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Saturday, 13 June 2009
...ain't nobody who can sing like me...
So my little trainspotting inspired post the other week got me to thinking about Iggy Pop, his insurance ad and what it was that I found so strange about the whole thing.
Not the fact that, at 62 years old, he is too old for the company to actually insure him; not so much that they got some old dude to advertise their insurance; not for the fact that someone whose stage show was frequently known to include self harm, puking or getting his knob out isn’t exactly the most inspiring choice to advertise motor insurance. Not even the fact that he was a one time heroin addict.
Not the fact that, at 62 years old, he is too old for the company to actually insure him; not so much that they got some old dude to advertise their insurance; not for the fact that someone whose stage show was frequently known to include self harm, puking or getting his knob out isn’t exactly the most inspiring choice to advertise motor insurance. Not even the fact that he was a one time heroin addict.
I couldn’t put a pin on it.
I guess they thought he would appeal as a good role model to their target audience, whoever they might be.
It also got me to thinking about the absurdity of Lust for Life being used by Royal Caribbean Cruise Line in their ad. Absurd that the clientele on a cruise ship might even know the bare chested and sinewy Mr Osterberg Jr if he were to rise a la Triton from their lobster bisque clad only his transparent pvc hipsters.
Also absurd that the track was spliced to conveniently skip the bits about liquor and drugs, the flesh machine and another striptease. I wonder if any of their cruise clients gave that a thought when they were booking their trip round the West Indies.
Aside from that, I can’t ever hear that song without entering into a Ewan McGregor style rant about choosing life, electric tin openers and the like. I’m actually at the stage where there is a certain synergy between the two. One is synonymous with the other. I hear Ewan’s voice, I think Lust for life. Soon as I hear the beaten out tom-tom intro, I think Ewan McGregor. Presumably those clever chaps at the publicity and marketing department of Royal Caribbean were thinking along similar sort of lines. Somehow, though, it doesn’t work for me.
Think about it.
Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a holiday. Choose a cruise on f4cking big boat you can’t afford. Choose lounging around all day between ports with nothing to do except get skin cancer. Choose having nowhere to go except to puke your ringer over the side...
Doesn’t quite work does it?
But get the right song and you can sell cowshit to a dairy farm.
Get your song behind a good advertising campaign and its worth all the air play or playlisting that radio can offer.
I wondered what lengths an artist would go to in order to get their song used in an ad and the lengths advertisers would go to get the right song.
Also the lengths some artists would go to keep their songs off the TV.
I guess they thought he would appeal as a good role model to their target audience, whoever they might be.
It also got me to thinking about the absurdity of Lust for Life being used by Royal Caribbean Cruise Line in their ad. Absurd that the clientele on a cruise ship might even know the bare chested and sinewy Mr Osterberg Jr if he were to rise a la Triton from their lobster bisque clad only his transparent pvc hipsters.
Also absurd that the track was spliced to conveniently skip the bits about liquor and drugs, the flesh machine and another striptease. I wonder if any of their cruise clients gave that a thought when they were booking their trip round the West Indies.
Aside from that, I can’t ever hear that song without entering into a Ewan McGregor style rant about choosing life, electric tin openers and the like. I’m actually at the stage where there is a certain synergy between the two. One is synonymous with the other. I hear Ewan’s voice, I think Lust for life. Soon as I hear the beaten out tom-tom intro, I think Ewan McGregor. Presumably those clever chaps at the publicity and marketing department of Royal Caribbean were thinking along similar sort of lines. Somehow, though, it doesn’t work for me.
Think about it.
Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a holiday. Choose a cruise on f4cking big boat you can’t afford. Choose lounging around all day between ports with nothing to do except get skin cancer. Choose having nowhere to go except to puke your ringer over the side...
Doesn’t quite work does it?
But get the right song and you can sell cowshit to a dairy farm.
Get your song behind a good advertising campaign and its worth all the air play or playlisting that radio can offer.
I wondered what lengths an artist would go to in order to get their song used in an ad and the lengths advertisers would go to get the right song.
Also the lengths some artists would go to keep their songs off the TV.
Back in the golden days of the Levis ad, many a number one was the product of an advertising campaign.
Marvin Gaye, Ben E King and Percy Sledge all had hits on the back of a pair of denims. Nick Kamen launched a career on the same basis.
We had some classic beer ads with Hipsway, Win, Big Country and Simple Minds.
More recently we’ve had Lucky Jim soundtracking a Kingsmill bread ad, we’ve had Devendra Banhart giving it ‘little yellow spider laughing at the snow’ to an Orange ad and now we’ve got some dumb assed farmer rampaging about the country side with a hen stapled to the back of his quad bike to the iconic strains of Born to be Wild. All to try and convince the public that his eggs are good, happy eggs.
Even if all the hairy arsed bikers who got off to Easy Rider have turned all soft and gotten a free range conscience, I can’t somehow see Steppenwolf breaking back into the charts on the back of that one.
More recently we’ve had Lucky Jim soundtracking a Kingsmill bread ad, we’ve had Devendra Banhart giving it ‘little yellow spider laughing at the snow’ to an Orange ad and now we’ve got some dumb assed farmer rampaging about the country side with a hen stapled to the back of his quad bike to the iconic strains of Born to be Wild. All to try and convince the public that his eggs are good, happy eggs.
Even if all the hairy arsed bikers who got off to Easy Rider have turned all soft and gotten a free range conscience, I can’t somehow see Steppenwolf breaking back into the charts on the back of that one.
I read somewhere recently about an ad for a well known brand of denim wear using Creedence Clearwater Revival’s Fortunate Son and about how, after some judicious pruning of the song’s text, a totally different message was conveyed to that contained in the songs subtext. The All American, flag waving message was clearly in conflict with John Fogerty’s original meaning.
Despite that, and the fact that some people were incensed by the blatant corruption of the songs subtext, surely John Fogerty himself must have felt the message was ok. Either that or he just needed the money.
Someone who probably doesn’t need the money is Bob Dylan, yet recent years have seen him move from a stance of never allowing his work to be used in ads, to a situation where he has had deals with Starbucks, Apple and, most recently, and bizarrely, the Cooperative.
Then we get all the plagiarised attempts to capture that particular mood or to cash in on the success of something that has been deemed off limits.
Take the recent Magnum ice cream ad, surely one of the most blatant rip offs ever.
I guess Jack White wasn’t too bothered by it and, as far as I can tell, hasn’t raised a legal action against the makers.
Tom Waits on the other hand has stood his ground.
In 2000 he refused a Spanish production company the rights to use his song Innocent When You Dream on an ad for a well known German car (the one with the four circles on it). Undeterred, they went ahead, using not his original version but a soundalike.
How the hell does anyone get to sound like Tom Waits?
Gargle with the diamonte shards of a shattered windscreen?
Chain smoke 60 coyote dung and habanero cheroots a day?
Wash it all down with some old Kentucky bourbon laced with nitromors?
You'd have thought if they were going to imitate someone they'd have picked someone, well, someone a little less unique because, lets face, ain''t nobody can sound like Tom Waits.
You’d also have thought they would have known better especially when, after a similar offence, he hit Frito Lays for around two and a half million dollars some twenty years ago but, undeterred, General Motors tried to pull some similar moves.
Needless to say old Tom took them to the cleaners as well, leaving his professional reputation fully intact.
His parting shot –
Needless to say old Tom took them to the cleaners as well, leaving his professional reputation fully intact.
His parting shot –
“I’m glad to be out of the car sales business once and for all”
And so the music...
Billy Bragg – The Woody Guthrie Show
http://www.sendspace.com/file/020bbc
Dylan Earls Court 1978
http://www.sendspace.com/file/24jsg1
the Alarm – The Point Cardiff
http://www.sendspace.com/file/n6lfll
Johnny Hardie & Gavin Marwick – The Blue Lamp
http://www.sendspace.com/file/vjtxs6
Idlewild – Radio Scotland Sessions
http://www.sendspace.com/file/o3ldgd
Pale Saints – In Ribbons
http://www.sendspace.com/file/r471p4
Roddy Frame – Marco’s East Kilbride
http://www.sendspace.com/file/gh147a
Shooglenifty – Live At Selwyn Hall
http://www.sendspace.com/file/d8yng1
James Yorkston – Live at Poisson Mouille
http://www.sendspace.com/file/haafe1
Sea Wolf - Leaves In The River
http://www.sendspace.com/file/1xi2ih
Roddy Hart – Home Tapes
http://www.sendspace.com/file/zn4nje
Joseph Arthur - Brugge
http://www.sendspace.com/file/r6p69r
http://www.sendspace.com/file/020bbc
Dylan Earls Court 1978
http://www.sendspace.com/file/24jsg1
the Alarm – The Point Cardiff
http://www.sendspace.com/file/n6lfll
Johnny Hardie & Gavin Marwick – The Blue Lamp
http://www.sendspace.com/file/vjtxs6
Idlewild – Radio Scotland Sessions
http://www.sendspace.com/file/o3ldgd
Pale Saints – In Ribbons
http://www.sendspace.com/file/r471p4
Roddy Frame – Marco’s East Kilbride
http://www.sendspace.com/file/gh147a
Shooglenifty – Live At Selwyn Hall
http://www.sendspace.com/file/d8yng1
James Yorkston – Live at Poisson Mouille
http://www.sendspace.com/file/haafe1
Sea Wolf - Leaves In The River
http://www.sendspace.com/file/1xi2ih
Roddy Hart – Home Tapes
http://www.sendspace.com/file/zn4nje
Joseph Arthur - Brugge
http://www.sendspace.com/file/r6p69r
Enjoy...
Hooli
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