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The Music Thread

Well after a blistering start, Mowl is proving himself pretty useless at the Guess the Song (I'm thinking of)? game (I told you, he's not that musical).

The correct answer is.. How Deep Is Your Love, by English pop group Take That -



Shouldn't this be on the 'I don't want to admit I'm gay' thread?
 
Shouldn't this be on the 'I don't want to admit I'm gay' thread?

I'm working on it, Cap'n.

Jambo here doesn't seem to realize his macho-man routine belies an obvious Hansel & Gretel theme to his own personal tragedy in deluding himself.

It's not that Jambo doesn't 'like' girls - it's more that he prefers male company.

I think it's down to his Ma: she kicked the bucket while he was still in knee-pants.

Now that he's finally in longers it's all gone to his head: dizzy like an ADHD/spoiled brat child on too much lemonade - with access to too many power tools.

Jambo's favourite man is of course his main crush: Keith Woods - ardent X user and writer of Jambo's daily instruction/script.

Other men occasionally intersperse the gist of things in Jambo's world, but it's always back to the woods.

If you know what I mean.

Woods?

Men?

Hairy arses?

No?

Ssszt.
 
Baltimore is supposedly as dangerous in real life as it was portrayed in The Wire.
 
Baltimore is supposedly as dangerous in real life as it was portrayed in The Wire.

Newman's lyrics refer to a specific period in American history. The same factors that left Detroit, once a powerhouse of American production - like a ghost town. Flint, Michigan. Etc. It never ceases to make me laugh at how Americans think that their country is something to be envied. It's a fucking dump. You'll find more architecture of note in Tallin Estonia than you would in the mid-west.

Yanks - they love kidding themselves.
 
Something glorious about PJ Harvey. Her back catalogue of songs is rich. I think of her as Kate Bush's evil daughter. I like the collaboration with Flood as well. There's a solid grounding in English folk in the background that is the well they keep going back to.

Herself and Flood are the people I would commission to do a new soundtrack for the Wicker Man. I'm going to ignore the remake that occurred some years ago.
 
She's come out the far side of self-destruction which is good. There's a reflection in her music. Always get the impression there is no such thing as filler with her and Flood. I thought herself and Cave would kill each other but they sensibly got away from each other.

You can't have two suns in one garden. Love the guitar in this one. That slightly rough true accoustic sound and her voice over it... lush.

 
She's come out the far side of self-destruction which is good. There's a reflection in her music. Always get the impression there is no such thing as filler with her and Flood. I thought herself and Cave would kill each other but they sensibly got away from each other.

You can't have two suns in one garden.

But I have met her in person, more than once. She was a regular at Tosca, which was one of Norman Hewson's restaurants in Dublin city. Suffolk Street, actually. A very popular joint with loads of famous faces at the tables, though Polly usually sat in the bay window, people -watching. There was a vibe off her that screamed of 'don't even think about talking to me' but she was really sweet once she knew you.

Norman's Bono's brother, and Angus - the head chef who did their menus, is another wordsmith who I challenged one night so Ingrid (the restaurant manager) could leave early and come over to mine with food and wine. He asked me for a word that he couldn't account for - so I gave him 'viduity' and allowed him fifteen minutes to answer. He didn't answer at all, and Ingrid showed up shortly after.

Next time we met I handed him a photocopy of a page from Beckett's 'Krapp's Last Tape'.

He was bulling.

Still, great chef, great foods, even the in-house baked bread with just a finger bowl of quality olive oil for dipping was an addictive starter.


www.thejournal.ie



Bono's brother revives '90s restaurant for charity


Tosca was once a haunt for models, party people and visiting celebs – now it’s back for one night only for charity drive.


That's my old boss Eddie Shanahan who ran Elaine's Model management who my then lady was modelling internationally for. Beside him is Lisa Cummins, one of the agencies other best assets. The guy in the orange jacket is Norm, as we called him. He was good at what he did, but he also had a safety net in Bono. Who put up some of the money to open Mister Pussy's all nighter cafe next door where they served the wine in teapots lest the cops show up.

Great days in Dublin.
 
Congratulations to our own Gilbert O'Sullivan, an artist and songwriter of considerable talent who contributed so much amazing music across so many decades. Tonight he receives The Freedom Of Waterford in a very overdue acknowledgement of his efforts. Often compared to Paul McCartney, his lyrical content was always gentle and emotive, and the raspy nature of John Lennon's angle not quite his forte.

An old friend of mine, ex-Irish presidential candidate Jimmy Smyth (guitarist/writer/arranger) of The Bogey Boys, recently helped Gilbert to get his act together with a new band of players for touring and guest spots around the world. Hopefully the luvvies in RTE will also acknowledge his efforts by digging up some archive material for broadcast over the next while.

Jimmy's a chameleon: he's played on so many records I can't count them all.

But here's Gilbert with one of my own personal favourites:

Gilbert O'Sullivan: 'Nothing Rhymed'

 
Speaking of Jimmy Smyth, he was the main man in the seminal Irish pub/rock band The Bogey Boys. We lost him for a few years after he disbanded the Bogeys and then he sort of disappeared off the map until one day I was repainting my flat in Rathmines and this song came on the radio, stopping me dead in my tracks. I lit a cigarette and listened to the amazing singing I at first thought HAD to be Bree Harris, Ballyfermot native and first Irish lady of the blues.

Back then getting information about who played on which record meant you had to buy it to find out. It wasn't Bree, it was an American soul singer named Toni Childs (RIP). So I bought the album and took it home, then stuck it on the turntable and read through the credits: the name Jimmy Smyth caught my eye and I wondered if it could really be the same Jimmy? It was, he was still burning strings and setting the bar so high for those around him I was gobsmacked.

Monster tune, still sounds fucking awesome:

Toni Childs: 'Don't Walk Away' (1988)

 
Speaking of Jimmy Smyth, he was the main man in the seminal Irish pub/rock band The Bogey Boys. We lost him for a few years after he disbanded the Bogeys and then he sort of disappeared off the map until one day I was repainting my flat in Rathmines and this song came on the radio, stopping me dead in my tracks. I lit a cigarette and listened to the amazing singing I at first thought HAD to be Bree Harris, Ballyfermot native and first Irish lady of the blues.

Back then getting information about who played on which record meant you had to buy it to find out. It wasn't Bree, it was an American soul singer named Toni Childs (RIP). So I bought the album and took it home, then stuck it on the turntable and read through the credits: the name Jimmy Smyth caught my eye and I wondered if it could really be the same Jimmy? It was, he was still burning strings and setting the bar so high for those around him I was gobsmacked.

Monster tune, still sounds fucking awesome:

Toni Childs: 'Don't Walk Away' (1988)


Weird echoes of gospel singer style in that voice... very 80's but transcends the keyboards...
 
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