"There's a time in life for Hoagy Carmichael. There's a time in life for Claude Debussy. There's a time in life for Jerry Lee Lewis. There's a time in life for Destiny's Child. All these things have their moment." ~Elvis Costello
The Stapletons are a husband and wife, harp and guitar duo. Together, they write baroque folk rich with hints of Appalachian balladry, Delta blues, and echoes of the English folk revival movement. Blues-driven harp and guitar arrangements topped by ethereal vocal harmonies combine to create a wondrous sound.
Casey, a mariachi from LA married Kate, who grew up in Middle Ridge, WI. Swept into sooty post-industrial Pittsburgh, The Stapletons set about reconciling their many cultural clashes and started a brood of children. Six years later they sat down one morning in the kitchen with a Celtic harp and a Mexican guitar and began writing music. Their unique, “chamber folk” style features blues driven harp riffs, tightly interwoven vocals, and ethereal harmonies. Inspired by their home surrounded by civil war ghosts, this husband wife duo write intricate songs that bring the past alive, illuminate the present, and lift listeners into the stars.
For those not familiar with Douglas Adams’ HItchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, some explaining is in order on this one.
In the fictional book series, radio drama, TV series and movie, Marvin is a robot starship crew member who has been programmed with a human personality.
Unfortunately, Marvin is chronically depressed and bored with the mundane tasks he’s routinely asked to perform. Marvin claims to be 50,000 times more intelligient than a human, yet, as his song laments, “they make me pick the paper off the floor”.
Stephen Moore, who voiced Marvin in the British radio and TV series, released the single “Marvin” in 1981, and it reached number 52 in the British pop charts.
Aside from play on the Dr. Demento show, the song had basically zero exposure in America. And that’s exactly where I came across it, around 1985, and recorded it to a long lost cassette from the boombox beside my bed.
I'm just a robot and I know my place A metal servant to the human race I work my can off trying to satisfy I know they'll disconnect me by and by. Chip on my shoulder made of silicon My printed circuit's like a lexicon Ten billion logic functions, maybe more They make me pick the paper off the floor. Solitary solenoid Terminally paranoid Marvin Know what makes me really mad They clean me with a Brillo Pad A carwash wouldn't be so bad Life! Don't talk to me about life. I'm so depressed I could expectorate My moving parts are in a solid state I want to rust in peace, switch off and lie In that great junk yard in the sky. Solitary solenoid Terminally paranoid Marvin Nothing left to be enjoyed Every diode rheumatoid Marvin Outer alloy Inner void Marvin Happiness has been destroyed.
Another delightful pop nugget from New Zealand’s answer to Sum 41, Weezer, Beastie Boys, Nirvana and more.
Tyson Kennedy’s rap overlapping Brad Carter’s singing, backed by some tasty riffage makes for a winning formula. This band–and this gloriously ebullient album–should have been big.
Max Romeo & The Upsetters: “War Ina Babylon” (1976)
Jamaican Max Romeo was known for making rather lightweight, if at times racy, pop which performed well in both Jamaican and UK charts in the late 60’s.
But when he paired with Lee “Scratch” Perry’s studio band the Upsetters for the 1976 release War Ina Babylon he brought the goods. The religious and politically-themed album is widely acknowledged not only as Romeo’s best work but a classic of the reggae genre, and its title song, which describes the tense mood around the Jamaican election of 1972, is a highlight.
From Playin’ Favorites, his collection of folk and rock ‘n roll covers from 1973.
McLean’s gentle, affecting rendition of “Mountains O’Mourne” actually reached #2 on the Irish singles chart.
Its lyric is in the form of a letter from an emigrant laborer in fashionable late nineteenth-century London to his love back home in County Dublin.
Its tone is both whimsical and sad, as the narrator’s heart is clearly more in the natural beauties of his homeland than his stylish but artificial surroundings.
Nobody does melancholy like the Irish.
Oh, Mary, this London’s a wonderful sight With people here working by day and by night They don’t sow potatoes nor barley nor wheat But there’s gangs of them diggin’ for gold in the street At least when I asked them, that’s what I was told So I just took a hand at this diggin’ for gold But for all that I’ve found there, I might as well be In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea
I believe that when writin’ a wish you expressed As to how the fine ladies of London were dressed But if you’ll believe me, when asked to a ball They don’t wear no tops to their dresses at all Oh, I’ve seen them myself and you could not in truth Tell if they were bound for a ball or a bath Don’t be startin’ them fashions now, Mary McRee, In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea
There’s beautiful girls here, oh, never you mind Beautiful shapes Nature never designed Lovely complexions of roses and cream But let me remark with regard to the same That if at those roses you venture to sip The colors might all come away on your lip So I’ll wait for the wild rose that’s waitin’ for me In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea
You remember young Denny McClaren, of course Well, he’s over here with the rest of the force I saw him one day as he stood on the strand Stopped all the traffic with a wave of his hand As we were talking of days that are gone The whole town of London stood there to look on But for all his great powers, he’s wishful like me To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea
Ironic and sad that in our previous post of a Walker Hayes song (the brilliant “You Broke Up with Me”) we singled out for praise an uncommon lyrical freshness that went counter to the prevailing trend in contemporary country of piling cliche on cliche to make the same song again and again, year after year.
Perusing Hayes’ website for news of a follow-up to 2017’s Boom, I came across a new song (“Country Stuff”) which is probably the tallest stinkin’ pile of…uh, cliche on record.
In other words, this guy went from being (in this writer’s opinion) the Great Hope for the genre finding its way out of its current (un)creative mire to authoring possibly the genre’s most monumental exercise in banal formula.
So we went back to 2017 and “Dollar Store” to show you how brilliant and witty Hayes can be.
But we include the link to “Country Stuff” for perspective’s sake. Compare it lyrically to both “Dollar Store” and “You Broke Up with Me” (also linked below) and you’ll see a stark contrast between county as it could be and country as it unfortunately too often is.
Dollar Store
Saw a penny picked it up Lady be a little luck Stuck it in my pocket, hey Wasn’t earned but it’s saved 50 cents in the console… cha ching 39 on the floor… bada bing 10 more till we got it made, babe, in the cash shade Shopping time there’s a dime in the ashtray
Uh, woohoo Mama let my money say I love you We takin’ you and this GW Down to the dollar store Buy you whatever you holla for Uh, woohoo Baby I’m a million bucks from rich But I can grant you a discount wish Down at the dollar store Buy you whatever you holla for
Baby, It’s your birthday I’mma be your sugar dad Don’t even think about checkin’ one price tag Whatch you want, flips flops? Toothbrush, Clorox Shasta, pop rocks EPT… hope not! Paper plates saying’ happy Halloween Candles smellin’ like cookies & cream St. Patrick’s day party hat with elastic strings Girl you look fine in green
Uh, woohoo Mama let my money say I love you We takin’ you and this GW Down to the dollar store Buy you whatever you holla for Uh, woohoo Baby I’m a million bucks from rich But I can grant you a discount wish Down at the dollar store Buy you whatever you holla for…
Girl, they got silly string, travel Scope Knock off cereal Ketchup, picture frames Flash light, key chains Paddle ball, Tylenol, Mardi Gras confetti Drop it in the cart, watch me roll it to regi’
Uh, woohoo I’mma let my money say I love you We takin’ you and this GW Down to the dollar store Buy you whatever you holla for Uh, woohoo Baby I’m a million bucks from rich But I can grant you a discount wish Down at the dollar store Buy you whatever you holla for
