Songs that make me go "umnnn". (Top 10 Singles)

Member Name: peel.rebekah

Product:	Top 10 Singles
Date:	26/06/01 (906 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: I like them.

Disadvantages: None, obviously, otherwise I wouldn't like them.

I've been teetering on the edge of writing this opinion for waaay too long: I'm a soppy ol' romantic at heart, and so this little top ten is dedicated to the songs that make me sigh with wonder and joy.

Being one of those opinions that is due to change with the wind and every fanciful new musical unearthment - please don't hold me to my choices; just check out the tunes and note that if I were to die tomorrow, this would be my first rate, prime steak selection (running in the predictable order of 10 - I like it a lot, to 1 - I couldn't live without it):

*Sunday Morning - The Velvet Underground.

Ummn, not starting on a high point: You see I hate The Velvets with a true vengeance (something to do with them wandering around with that evil pop art ****, Andy Warhol), but then the tender lilt of this ditty inspires so many of those insecure and emotional teenage memories to come flooding back; this isn't The Velvet's normal lapsed (morally speaking) lyrical approach, nor anywhere near their more aggressive and inventive music (that my husband still adores): This is a charming, delicate and elegant way to wake up and smell the roses.

I always get a sense of pervading paranoia when I listen too closely to the lyrics:
"Watch out, the world's behind you."

And although I really don't like them (:oP), other V.U. songs that rock have to be mentioned: The Gift, White Light/White Heat and Venus in Furs.

*Avec Les Temps - Leo Ferre.

Dead French guy sings a song about losing everything with time, should I leave it there? I first heard this song while Ferre was still with us, standing on a Parisian balcony (me, not Ferre), looking out over the city on a hot summer night. This song probably calls for you to have a least a smlattering of French comprehension, but even without, the sullen poetry and disturbing shouts of "sallope" somewhere near the end should kee
p you interested.

I adore the way French 'classical' singers employ poetry rather than lyrics (arguable, I know, but I'm not getting into that here); French singers don't necessarily have to have a voice to die for - if they can be profound with their words, then there is a sure market for them.

Avec Les Temps sees Ferre question the world and himself: Why do his memories fail him? Why does he not recall the face of a lover, and why does she forget him? Why is time so evil as to rob you of such wonderful sentiments, and then why, do you yourself, get rubbed from existence? All this coming from a frizzy, white haired old geezer who was just a whisper away from being scrubbed from life.(Oh, and the sallope (bitch) in question is time itself.)

*Je Suis Venu Te Dire Que Je M'en Vais - Serge Gainsbourg.

As above (sans losing everything with time, but avec a huge sense of loss as he tells his lover he is leaving her).

Lots of sighs, woe and tears spilt over a duet between Serge and Jane Birkin.

*Joga - Bjork.

Arrh, Bjork. Love her or hate her, you have to admit she does some damn strange things with her voice. I was a big time fan of The Sugarcubes, and a little apprehensive when the little cherub sped off to follow a solo (and 'supposed' pop) career. I didn't have to worry for too long; her debut album ran riot through her dance influences, while holding on to the integrity of Bjork's downright weirdness.

Joga is the second tune of the Homogenic album (the scarily computer enhanced image of Bjork as a geisha courtesy of Nick Knight), and it stirs my soul: Rushing in on The Icelandic String Quartet's err, strings, Bjorky lets off a bit of emotional steam:

"...And you push me up to this:
State of emergency
How beautiful to be
State of emergency
is where I want to be"

Oh, and I made friends with her niece.

*Bon
fire - Lamb.

Second album (Fear of Fours) was even better than the first (Lamb): Bounds of D and B influences mixed in with this jazz/funk/trip hop/flip flop menagerie of slinky sounds and soaring lyrics. Bonfire is the first tune that I heard from the album, and the one that stuck:

Darling sample of Bach's cello concerto are intertwined with Lou Rhodes eerily edged voice; the place is crawling with strings (violins are the Chainsaw Strings, accompanied by violas, cellos and double bass), and a sleazy high hat.

Thankfully, Lamb acknowledge a manifold of 'dance' people that I would also like to pay homage to: Kruder and Dorfmeister (aka Peace Orchestra and Tosca), Massive Attack, Gus Gus and Fila Brazilia.

*Fruit Tree - Nick Drake.

I'm not going to rant on about Drake, just to say that he was a pure genius and was sadly taken from us after only three albums. He was a manic depressive, who received no accolades during his life time and then, regrettably, committed suicide.

Fruit tree is from his first album, Five Leaves Left, and I feel that the lyrics fall into the poetry genre that the French do so well. I suppose this is a Folk song of sorts; the words, on first listening, seem somewhat out of place with the delectable tune, but given time, the lyrics blossom - as does your love for this little lost lamb.

All Drake's songs and all Drake's albums come with a heavy endorsement from me.

*China Girl - Iggy Pop (and Bowie gets in at the same time).

Clever, eh? I only have ten choices and I manage to get two in for the price of one. Two aging pop rock kings who I'd gladly die for: Iggy, 'cos anyone that skinny, veiny and still alive (and still kicking against the norm) deserves respect, and Bowie, well, I forgive him his strange belief that he can actually paint, and devour him with my eyes.

China Girl (Pop/Bowie - Bowie/Pop, whatever), is enticing
in the way that it delivers a different message with each singer: The consequences are clear when a mad old American sings the words

"I'll give you television
I'll give you eyes of blue
I'll give you a man who wants to rule this world."

While the same words from the other's mouth conjures up a mixture of the deathly image of Bowie's sunbaked head (Merry Christmas, Mr Lawrence) and the stomach churning cow sacrificing scene in Apocalypse Now.

Of course, notable mention to Nightclubbing, The Passenger, I Wanna Be Your Dog, and on the other side, Space Oddity, Heroes, Ashes to Ashes and recent adventures with Placebo.

*Shivers - Nick Cave (The Birthday Party).

The only Australian I will ever love. Shivers was written way before Cave courted the pop charts with Kylie and PJ Harvey; this a teenage angst song from the man better loved for his pseudo deep south inbred tales. I believe he wrote this song when he was twenty-one (or nineteen?) and it shows.

There is simplicity in Cave's voice (none of the drunken splurges that we now know), an earnest need for the telling of his childish feelings, and a great chorus that proves Cave really can't sing. I'm probably being unfair, but you must admit, his songwriting skills really do outweigh his vocal ability. Honorable mention to Mercy Seat, Henry's Song...in fact all of his songs, ever.

*Anything by Arvo Part and Henryk Gorecki.

A cheat, I know, as these aren't really 'songs' and I didn't choose just one. So sue me.

*Cactus/In Heaven - The Pixies

No other band will ever break my heart into zillions of pieces by splitting up: All time favourite songsters, The Pixies dragged me through adolescence, rummaged through my pockets for spare change and taught me what music should be about...i.e. shouting loudly and making songs that break your head.

I couldn't ch
oose between these two (both short little bundles of love): In Heaven is the re-singing of that bit in David Lynch's Eraserhead, so I won't bother explaining (and I can only remember it being on a live album) - go watch the film - and Cactus is a heavenly ode to missing someone (Black Francis style):

"I miss your kissing and I miss your head
and your letter and your writing doesn't mean you're not dead
Run outside in the desert heat
Get your dress all wet
And send it to me...
...Blood your hands on a cactus tree
Wipe it on your dress and send it to me."

Exquisite black words and thunderous tunes (as well as the constant prospect that they'll bounce off somewhere in Spanish and their ludicrously normal looking personas (just check out their English equivalent, The Cardiacs, for verification on that)) make them the band that helped me grow up - and for that reason alone, they're top of the list.

Cheers for reading; I know that these top ten things can sometimes be a little tedious to get through - I hope I didn't bore you too much with the love tunes of my life.

Enjoy.

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