Hello Sinister. There’s something magical about hearing a song on the radio, don’t you think? Sure, it’s not an original thought, but it’s one that cropped up in my head the other day. I’ll tell you the story, see if you agree. There’s a dreadful rehash of Bill Withers’ Lovely Day going around the radio at the moment, with some fool rapping over the top. Believe me Sinister, it’s appalling. For the most part though, it’s Lovely Day – the dum-da-dim-dum-da-dum bass, those swooping strings, you know the bit I mean. In fact, it’s exactly the same song, but Withers’ exceptional vocal line is replaced by some opportunist clown in sportswear. I’m really fond of Withers, maybe embarrassingly. For his vintage he really did appear to have a good repertoire, although I claim to have no expertise in the field (my knowledge of 70s soul and Motown is weak even if my passion is larger). But expertise or no, you can’t knock a guy who has several household tunes to his name; even if you don’t know them, you could surely sing along to Grandma’s Hands, Ain’t No Sunshine, Lean On Me, Who Is He And What Is He To You, Soul Shadows et al. Lovely Day though, it seems, is his magnum opus. The biggie. The money-maker, and rightly so – it’s a killer melody with a beautifully naïve sentiment, and a wonderfully soulful vocal delivery. Sure, it’s a little cheesy, but it hits the spot for me. So it’s understandable then that when I heard this ghastly hip-pop rip-off (with an opening couplet of “I’ve got my mind on my money, money on my mind”. Exactly) I reached for my dusty copy of Withers’ Greatest Hits, just to remind myself of the original. True to form, Lovely Day sounded great and I was humming it all through last weekend’s sundrenched weekend. But here’s where the bit about the radio comes in. A man with sense on BBC London decided he’d play Withers’ original on Sunday afternoon, and suddenly my aural enjoyment of the song was an altogether more satisfying experience. The intro kicked in unexpectedly and lit up my face as the presenter introduced the record, as if entering a darkened room only to be greeted by your closest friends screaming “SURPRISE!”. I wasn’t anticipating any qualitative difference between it playing from a CD or from a tuner, but then Withers began to croon. Although it might’ve been imagined, the slight crackle from the dodgy signal and FM compression also made the song that much more lovable. As that final drawn-out, nigh-on untenable “daaaaaaaay” faded out, back in came the presenter, with every bone in his face audibly lifted by Withers’ effort, and the whole 4-minute occurrence reminded me of how essential radio is, not just for finding new stuff but reminding you, in a way that a CD can't, of bygone tunes. It’s been a week since that programme, and I’m still listening to Lovely Day as I type. Love, Asm.x P.S. And for worst injury, see here (last paragraph): http://www.missprint.org/sinister/mhonarc/200107/msg00225.html ================================ "He's strictly a pain in the ass, but he certainly has a good vocabulary" - Holden Caulfield +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+