Sinister: World Tour of Five Songs

[David Howie]

Before the tour begins, I’d like to address the audience and make a few 
announcements.  Or, rather, one very big Thank You.  That’s for everybody 
who has e-mailed.  It all counts; every word chisels a little inch of pain 
from its holding; a lyrical suture closing the exposed wounds.  So, yeh, 
basically thanks.  Thank you.

Anyway, I suppose I should commence on my World Tour of Americana songs, 
which nestle comfortably in my upper echelons of Songs Which Evoke Extreme 
Emotion.  Anyways:

Jim White, “Christmas Day”.  Taken from the album “No Such Place”.

A breaking down motorcycle pulls up into the drive, the wrong-eyed Jesus 
troubadour sits on the backdoor porch.  Stepping off the motorcycle, the 
bruised lover yields to the front door: no-ones in.  Jim’s on the 
back-porch, picking his favourite notes in sequence: lilting acoustic guitar 
wanes under the bursting sun as it splits the clouds, sharing its heat with 
a V of swans.  White launches into a love song, and is able to hit the 
feeling of love right on the head; Bang: Mallet.  Simple Things adopts a 
jealous look.

“The burden of love is the fuel of bad grammar.  You stutter and stammer – 
what a bitch to convey the crux of the matter, when the words you must utter 
are hopelessly tangled in the memories and scars you show no one.”

My heart’s slow-ache crescendos into consummate yearning.  White recognises 
that, as is the case with most things in life, as regards Love “the devil’s 
in the detail”.  Amen.

Willard Grant Conspiracy, “The Beautiful Song”.  Taken from the album 
“Everything’s Fine”.

The Conspiracy are miserable buggers; finding solace in the little things in 
life.  The minutiae of existence over-looked by the self-serving glamour of 
the famous and the general populace as a whole.  Chasing the next dollar, 
no-one cares for the skewed beauty of the “rusted cars, the battle scars… a 
twisted fence, a swinging gate…”  The overarching philosophy of this song 
is: Hey, slow down, smell the fuchsia.  But they’re minging.  Yeh, mebbe, 
but think about it.  How much time has went into the simple fuchsia; yet you 
race past it, every morning, cleansed and suited.  The deftness of the 
petals… etc.  “It all looks beautiful to me.”  Essentially, a paean to being 
alive; and, thus, exactly the kinda song I need right now.  Brimful with 
mordant optimism (“An avalanche couldn’t keep me down.”)

The Pernice Brothers – “Chicken Wire”.  Taken from the album “Overcome by 
Happiness”.

The guitars filter through the speakers cautiously, one chord, a second…  
One fret in front of the other,
the protagonist fades away from our sight.  Her fate compounded by the 
opening line:

“With a drink in her hand, she will start her car and then seal herself for 
good in the garage.  She’s never leaving.”

The moribund spinster, locked away, beyond the listener’s reach in the 
garage; carbon monoxide, nitrous oxides and sulphur dioxide slowly 
asphyxiating her.  Why is she there, “she’s come so far”.  However, her path 
has not been exhausted, she’s left too many things undone.  Her love, sour, 
now leaves her “thinking of another”.  Bereft of her lover; she undoes all 
the work; the struggles won, dissipate and rest meaningless.  And all the 
walls they fade to black.  This gripping vignette of Love gone wrong 
expresses all that is required in order to get a grasp of how powerful Love 
may be.  The meaning of some peoples’ lives.  Mogadon power-pop at its best.

Ron Sexsmith – “Feel For You”.  Taken from the album “Whereabouts”.

The criminally ignored cherub of a mind, that provides us with these songs 
of wanderlust, supplies me with an epochal song: a running commentary on how 
I fell right now.

I’m sorry, Kathryn.  “How I hate to see you in this way… Is there nothing I 
can say, to cheer you up.” A letter to a lover torn apart by the other’s 
anguish, distress, heartache, and emotional displeasure.  The emotion 
asserted by the verses, aching with regret and forlorn hope, is reversed by 
the reassuring, rhetorical chorus: “is it too late in the game, to change 
anything?”

Today, I heard a boy argue that Marriage between gays should not be allowed. 
  His argument sat on the predilection that marriage is the plinth upon 
which society rests, and the purpose of marriage is procreation.  Thus, a 
marriage which is unable to contribute to the human race is somehow invalid 
by virtue of the parties non-fecundity.

Songs like this make me believe; that marriage is not the fundamental 
building block of society but: Love.

The Shazam – “Sparkleroom”.  Taken from the album “Godspeed The Shazam”.

Now, it has been a rather sombre affair up until now.  However, a guaranteed 
heart-starter this gem of a track takes in the Beach Boys, the Beatles, the 
Byrds etc.  You name all the great power-pop acts.  Those who could carve 
four-part harmonies out of the ethos.  Give them some more sunshine; 
blistered green leaves, tunnelling waves cascading over dopey surfers, 
picnics in Kelvingrove…  This is a song to hum to.  A straightforward love 
song.  And thus harder to write about in awkward prose: treat your subjects 
in the way they treat you.  Straightforward equates with straightforward.  
It’s just a dumb ol’ pop song.  That grabs you by the nipples and drags you 
into the blazing heat of the California sunshine.  “Come on surfer [dudes] 
check out my world…”

Please.

Thanks,

David.

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