Okay… I’m surprisingly alert considering I literally raced around work from around 10:00 to 4:00. I mean racing literally… I had to get shit done.
So I rewarded myself with another phone sex call. I’ll have to get into some more detail about how these things shake down in another post. The girl I talked to tonight is one of the best as a fembot that I have ever heard…. she says “Yes Master” exactly the same way every time she says it… and what a sexy voice.
But I’m supposed to be talking about some music now, not my perverted fembot fantasies. So here goes.
This song here… actually in two links here and here… is probably the only thing off the otherwise lame album London Town that I actually like. Is Mull of Kintyre on that album? Let me check.
(checks)
No… Technically “Mull of Kintyre isn’t on that album… that 1978, straight in the fucking heart of disco and dreary “rock is dead” and “dinosaur” crap that ended up making the 80s so fucking terrible for so many bands and musicians. “Mull of Kintyre” is a better song than “Backwards Traveler / Cuff Link”, but it didn’t pop up on my iPod today.
You may have noticed, if you clicked on those links, that one of them is a rough mix, a demo if you will. A tomato if you will, but if you will I won’t. That’s not the reason I like this song (hey, I know it’s two songs, but when I “Mikeify” my music, removing background tape hiss and EQing it, I join the stuff that runs together and is meant to be heard as one piece). The real magic is the “Cuff link” part. It’s little more than a synth groove.
But being Wings, and containing Paul McCartney, they play it so fucking good. It’s another one of those simple repeating passages that gets stuck in my head now and then. And believe me, when it’s contrasted along with some of the other dreck on that album, it sounds even better.
Seriously, Paul embraced his sappy-romantic side a little to enthusiastically sometimes. Even when he was in that band before Wings… their name escapes me at the moment… hardly anyone has heard of them…. he came out with some real stinkers.
Paul: “John, look what I got!”
John: “It’s a turd.”
Paul: “No, it’s my latest song, I call it Honey Pie!”
John: “It’s a turd, Paul. Call it what you want Paul, it’s a lump of shit.”
Paul: “Well if you’re putting Revolution Nº 9 on the album, I’m smearing this particular lump of shit on it as well!”
Brian Epstein: (rolls in grave)
Okay, that was uncalled for. Those were private discussions between artists producing a recording, and I should not have divulged details of what they said. Also, I’m making shit up again.
If you have clicked on those two links, and if you have listened to them, you are no doubt tiring of my schtick. I don’t blame you. Sometimes I am told to leave my schtick in the mud, but as I always say, my jokes are better than a schtick in the eye.
Now I’m not even making sense. I’ve looked back on some of the entries in this blog, and sure enough, sometimes, by gum, I MAKE SENSE!
But not now.
(bows goodbye like the Beatles, as four grown men in collarless grey suits)