Diamond Geezers, Guilty Pleasures
- 29 Jan 07, 12:10 PM
Do you still make up lists of your favourite records? Man, that¡¯s so last century. These days, the done thing is to reel of a sequence of those guilty pleasures - the horrid little tunes that were never invited to the cool party. So now it¡¯s permissible to like the Electric Light Orchestra and their symphonic twaddle. Likewise with Meatloaf and ¡®Bat Out Of Hell¡¯. Apparently it¡¯s been given a reprieve, after years of mockery. And you thought it was just a gormless bunch of shouting and half-remembered Springsteen choruses? Apparently not.
To my mind, guilty pleasures should never be given absolution. A bad song will always stink. All this ironic stuff is just another makeshift, a temporary plug to fill the vacancy in our current music lives. I can never forgive Abba for their pop crimes, and if anyone ever wants to make a case for Nik Kershaw in my presence, be warned that I consider this fighting talk.
Yes, I do have an emotional attachment to some dodgy tunes. All that¡¯s left of one doomed love affair is the Genesis song, ¡®Follow You Follow Me¡¯. But it would never have worked: she had a lousy record collection. I used to like Alvin Stardust, but I was 11 at the time. And yes, I will dance with abandon to Fleetwood Mac and ¡®Everywhere¡¯. But that was never a bad song to start with.
The song that troubles me most is ¡®Cracklin¡¯ Rosie¡¯ by Neil Diamond. I find myself singing it in public. The melody gives me some pleasure. And when Shane MacGowan recorded a stumblebum version with banjos and everything, I truly appreciated how bold the song was.
But there¡¯s a line in ¡®Crackin¡¯ Rosie¡¯ that troubles me a lot. It¡¯s when Neil boasts, ¡°I had me a time with a poor man¡¯s lady¡±. I find it morally appalling. Why didn¡¯t he pick himself a rich man¡¯s wife for his entertainment? Or maybe even a single girl? I still have an indelible picture of the poor man, coming home in his dirty overalls, only to realise that his missus is cavorting with Neil Diamond, his clanking medallion and a purple jump suit. It¡¯s just not right.
Am I being too judgmental? Should I forget my guilty feelings and simply enjoy a decent pop song? Kind readers, how should I plead?
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Hehee, don't be guilty about loving the originals ¨C I'm more perturbed about the odd audio experience supressed in my cupboards. I got Cracklin' Rosie on one of those 'Top of the Pops' compilations that Hallmark churned out in the late 60's and 70's, with poptastic songs re-recorded by 'Various Artists'. You think Cracklin' Rosie is troublin'? You oughta listen to it on Hallmark!
I can't dig it out at the moment, but from memory, among the other tracks in that particular bumper LPful of blissful bounty was: I Hear You Knockin' (not by Dave Edmunds); Ride a White Swan (not by Mark Bolan); In My Chair -- I think that was the one -- (not by Status Quo); Woodstock (not by Matthews' Southern Comfort); I think, Love Grows Where My Rosemary Goes (not by Edison Lighthouse). Did it have Band Of Gold (not by Freda Payne)? I believe that it did. I seem to remember that it even had (not Lee Marvin growling) Wand'rin' Star! How could I ever forget!?. And the chief jewel? VOODOO CHILE not by JIMI HENDRIX! Glory. Must have been The Most Challenging Album To Make ¨C Ever!
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In previous comment, think I put Mark with a k and forgot to change it. Mark Bolan should be Marc Bolan of course.
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My fave is an album called 'Funky Junction Play A Tribute The Music Of Deep Purple'. In fact, Funky Junction were Thin Lizzy when they were young and skint in 1973, and quite prepared to hack out any old nonsense for a few shillings.
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"Funky Junction were Thin Lizzy when they were young and skint in 1973, and quite prepared to hack out any old nonsense for a few shillings."
Which makes me think, in a roundabout way, that with only a slight slip in the space/time relationship thing, it coulda been The Monkees singing Cracklin' Rosie...
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Just caught up with your piece from
29 Jan 2007.
Were you being facecious, or did you
not realise when Diamond talks of
his "poor mans lady", he is referring to his cheap bottle of Rose Wine which takes him through the night.
In fact he himself is the "poor man".
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That's a cool revelation. Now I can toast the song without a molecule of guilt. Cheers!
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