Girls will be boys

I was something like thirteen, when I first heard "Lola" by the Kinks.  The lyrics and content flew over my barely adolescent head.  

Well, that was a long time ago.  A lot has happened since then, including the coming-out of one of my relatives.

When Iphis announced he was a trans man about five years ago, our family circle adjusted accordingly.  Elder daughter, who switched Iphis' pronouns seamlessly, worried about younger daughter's reaction.

"She's so binary," she told me.

She needn't have worried.  One of younger daughter's music coaches switched from "Mr Lucas" to "Lucy" years ago.  As long as younger daughter is acknowledged as a woman, her life on the spectrum, both neurological and and sexual, seems relatively in balance.

Having a relative in the rainbow has made me somewhat more aware of gender differences, and last week, I stumbled across a video labelled "I'm a Boy - 1966":

And yes, this song by the Who did first appear in 1966:

One girl was called Jean Marie

Another little girl was called Felicity

Another little girl was Sally Joy

The other was me, and I'm a boy.

My name is Bill, and I'm a head-case

They practise making up on my face

Yeah, I feel lucky if I get trousers to wear

Spend evenings taking hairpins from my hair

I'm a boy, I'm a boy

But my mother won't admit it.

I'm a boy, I'm a boy, 

But if I say I am, I get it.

Put your frock on, Jean Marie

Plait your hair, Felicity

Paint your nails, little Sally Joy

Put this wig on, little boy

I want to play cricket on the green

Ride my bike across the street

Cut myself and see my blood

I wanna come home all covered in mud

However, the clothes in this video are from two decades later, and, furthermore, closer viewing revealed that "Bill" is a biological girl.  In those far-off times, Bill would be called a "tom-boy", but now, this video seems way ahead of its time; Bill would definitely be considered a nascent trans man in 2025.

But what the heck is this?  It turns out to be a BBC programme from the mid-to-late 80s called The Golden Oldies Picture Show, the mission of which was to provide 80's-style music videos for songs predating the same.

Don't think I'll be forwarding this video to Iphis, though.

Confination

There must be something reassuring about doo-wap these days.

This is a video edited from the live concert Stronger Together, broadcast on CBC last weekend. It features Michael Bublé, the Barenaked Ladies, and Mexican singer Sofia Reyes.



The performance is a cover of a recent offering by Barcelona trio Stay Homas, who are riding out this thing by making music from their apartment.


A number of Stay Homas fans are calling out Michael Bublé for covering this song, but I notice Stay Homas has sent a thank-you to all the musicians involved, for using the song to raise money for foodbanks.

But I can stand a little pain

 CBC Radio "Mornings" has introduced a "Question of the Week".  This week, because everyone is pushing for summer (but how loud will they complain when it gets here?), they're after candidates for the quintessential Canadian summer song.

Their two top contenders are "Summer of '69" and "Call Me Maybe".

Here's my choice:

Well it's hot and it's sticky, 
Think I'll get myself a micky
I'm so parched and dry...

Yep.  I can wait for summer...

I just thought we locked the gate

 Sometimes when I'm getting up and listening to the radio, a song will make me dive toward the speaker to listen, then fumble for my phone, where I've bookmarked the playlist for CBC Radio Morning.

Lately, I've been diving for this bouncy little ditty from Vampire Weekend (a group I've always rather liked) with rather depressing lyrics.  Seems to be the thing these days.

This evening while I was looking up the video, I couldn't believe my luck when I spotted a Jimmy Fallon video featuring a recent appearance by Vampire Weekend -- with Haim (another favourite) singing back-up!


Here's the official video which, sadly, doesn't provide the lyrics, but looks a bit like some of my high school biology labs.


This one reminds me of an absolutely gorgeous video by Talk Talk, which makes me shiver like an early morning when I watch it.  The high definition in this night-time imagery was really quite a startling thing in the eighties.

And the lyrics are a tad more upbeat.

Maybe he should have asked Lily first

The only reason we chose our service provider over the other one available in Victoria was because it offers Boston's PBS station WGBH as the "time shift" option.  (The other service offers Detroit's WTVS, which isn't as execrable as Watertown's WPBS, but is still pretty bad.)

Last night, I was yet again not disappointed.  I'd left the television on between shows, and hadn't muted it as is my usual practice.  A concert exerpt came up and as the music progressed, I found myself asking the usual questions when I'm about to acquire a *new favourite:  What is this? and Who are these guys? 

* I say "new", but, as has been demonstrated in the past, I'm always a few years behind.

The following video is not the clip I saw last night, but it's the best version I can find, which comes closest to what I heard.  I love the driving drums and the backing vocals.



The lyrics are sadder than you'd think.

I'm leaving this place behind
And I'm heading out on the road tonight.
I'm off for the hinterlands
Way up north where the tall trees stand.

Before I commence my ride
I'm asking Lily to be my bride.
I know there's another man
But he ain't gonna delay my plans.

I know she's gonna be my wife,
Gonna fall in love, I'm gonna live my life with her.
You know I bet he's not so tough.
Ain't afraid of him 'cause I'm a fool for love.

I've come far to find Big Jim,
Well, here I am and I guess you're him.
I see how you got your name,
You're tall as hell, and broad as a train.

They say you are a hard-broiled man
And the baddest guy in the whole wide land.
Well, I'm not afraid to fight,
Let's step outside and I'll show you why

I'm humming like a revved-up truck
Never mind the odds, I'm gonna try my luck with her.
Just tell me when you've had enough.
I'm dangerous 'cause I'm a fool for love.

You know you don't hit half bad
For my love I will lay you on the ground tonight.
Just wait until I catch my breath,
Gonna send you off to an early death.

I lie in the drifting snow,
Bleeding out as it covers me up.
If Spring comes before I'm found,
Just throw my bones in a hole in the ground

I lost friends along my way
I knew I'd meet them eventually,
No, I'm not afraid to die,
Just mad I left Big Jim alive.

I know I should've never looked back,
But you ain't gonna win a woman's heart like that.
I never should've called his bluff,
I was born to lose cause I'm a fool for love.

I stare into the endless sky,
And I saw a tale of my life go by.
I drift into the great unknown;
I really don't know where I'm going.

Welcome to the glass house

Elder daughter, who is on her way back to Hades, is a fan of Tim Minchin, who has released this bitingly funny - and I do mean "ouch" - video, as a harbinger of a new album and the new year.

The album looks promising. The year?

Let's be careful and kind out there.


By now, we thought that there would be jetpacks and flying cars,
Robots to do the cleaning-up for us,
And help with the shopping.

We'd all be famous for a bit,
That's what Andy Warhol said,
Thought we'd all get our coloured heads,
Well the truth would rock him.

He would be surprised to wake up and find that we have weaponized humiliation:

In the future, everyone
Everyone will have fifteen minutes
Fifteen minutes of shame
Fifteen minutes when they are unforgivable.

Pick up your pitchforks and your torch;
We'll go hunt the monster down,
But keep an eye out for uneven ground;
We'll turn on you if you stumble.

Don't need perspective or a heart;
Leave humility at home.
Welcome to the glass house; hope you brought your stones!
Are you ready to rumble?

I'm scared to write anything that might upset my tribe.
Never mind, 'cause in the future, everyone will have fifteen minutes
Fifteen minutes of shame,
Fifteen minutes when they are unforgivable
Irredeemable
Inexcusable
Scum
Fit only to be strung up in the village square.
I will see you there!

I am scared to say anything that may be taken the wrong way.
But, *$#% it, baby!
In the future, everyone
Everyone will have fifteen minutes,
Fifteen minutes of shame,
Fifteen minutes when they are unforgivable,
Irredeemable,
Inexcusable...

Behind, as usual

Another song I heard in a coffee shop.

Apparently, it's four years old.

I'm so on top of things.

I know it sounds a bit bizarre

After a weekend of musical theatre - which I'll tell you about tomorrow, all being well -- I was in the mood for something shorter, but equally as musically pleasing and witty.


Gawd I love this guy. The production values, the incisive (with considerable incisors) commentary, the clever lyrics, the wigs, the pink pussy hats....

The drums echoing tonight

As has been established, I love Postmodern Jukebox, and I love Casey Abrams in PMJ. Never been that crazy about the lyrics of Toto's "Africa", but what the heck:
I think this video is rather fun -- if not quite live, and I'm delighted to see the inclusion of Snuffy Walden, who is also known as "W.G. Snuffy Walden", and has scored several television shows, including My So-called Life, one of the few shows that showed high school life authentically. (Also loved the music of the opening.)

How about it?

As usual, I was looking for something else when this video turned up. The song is a favourite of mine, and the only disappointment is that, despite the title, Emmy-Lou Harris doesn't appear.

Wouldn't have that been wonderful? I still was spellbound, and came close to weeping; this is a gorgeous arrangement.

Gone with the woodwinds

These Vivaldi Guys have a page on Facebook, which features two videos and says next to nothing about them. If you google them, you won't find much, except the CBC Music article that brought them to my attention.

Are they Italian? French? Something else? I dunno.

For the first few seconds of this video, I actually thought they were clarinetists. Whoever they are, they are clever musicians. Not bad dancers, either....

Not some message in the dark

 Younger daughter's voice teacher in Ottawa (who is a Facebook pal now) posted this today.  I've been drawn to a song by Dawes before, but this song seems to be about despair and redemption at the same time.  I guess that's why it's called "A Little Bit of Everything".


With his back against the San Francisco traffic,
On the bridge's side that faces towards the jail,
Setting out to join a demographic,
He hoists his first leg up over the rail.

A phone call's made; police cars show up quickly.
The sergeant slams his passenger door.
He says, "Hey son, why don't you talk through this with me?
Just tell me what you're doing it for."

"Oh, it's a little bit of everything:
It's the mountains, it's the fog;
It's the news at six o'clock;
It's the death of my first dog.

"It's the angels up above me;
It's the song that they don't sing;
It's a little bit of everything."

There's an older man who stands in a buffet line,
He is smiling, and he's holding out his plate,
And the further he looks back into his timeline,
That hard road always led him to today.

Making up for when his bright future had left him,
Making up for the fact his only son is gone,
And letting everything out once, his server asks him:
"Have you figured out yet, what it is you want?"

"I want a little bit of everything:
The biscuits and the beans,
Whatever helps me to forget about
The things that brought me to my knees.

"So pile on those mashed potatoes,
And an extra chicken wing.
I'm having a little bit of everything."

Somewhere a pretty girl is writing invitations
To a wedding she has scheduled for the fall.
Her man says, "Baby, can I make an observation?
You don't seem to be having any fun at all."

She said, "You just worry about your groomsmen and your shirt-size,
And rest assured that this is making me feel good.
I think that love is so much easier than you realize
If you can give yourself to someone, then you should.

"'Cause it's a little bit of everything:
The way you joke, the way you ache;
It is getting up before you,
So I could watch you as you wake.

"So on that day in late September,
It's not some stupid little ring;
I'm getting a little bit of everything."

Oh, it's a little bit of everything:
It's the matador and the bull;
It's the suggested daily dosage;
It's the red moon when it's full.

All these psychics and these doctors,
They're all right and they're all wrong.
It's like trying to make out every word
When they should simply hum along.

It's not some message written in the dark,
Or some truth that no one's seen.
It's a little bit of everything. 
- Taylor Goldsmith 

Box step at dawn

When I think of the final months of 2017, I will think of this song, and being pulled by the skipping baritone saxophones into a strange little dance amongst cardboard boxes on the carpet, as the light brightened beyond the curtains. As usual, I like the song rather better than the video, which looks rather like a car commercial.

Keeps me up at night

It's been one of those days. (Plleeease don't let it be one of those months...)

Time to jump into the refuge of music. When I think of the latter part of 2017, a couple of songs will probably bring it back quite clearly.

Here's one of them, by Fionn, who are twin sisters from White Rock, BC. They are, of course, very pretty, so the dilemma they describe is not quite what I experienced as a young, certainly-not-conventionally-attractive woman, but I can empathize all the same. Most women, if not all, have experienced fellas who can't quite grasp the concept that females are living, thinking, feeling beings.

Not that being one tonight is a particular comfort.

Super-sensitive potassium

Because I can't resist.

Just try to name them all

Running out of time again, and I recalled that I haven't checked in with Thebigbluemeany for years.

I found this gem, among others.

Gone for the day

I'm off on a day trip. Might tell you about it.  Here's a place-holder - a Peggy-Lee-style take on a very very popular song.

What does the sleep-deprived blogger say?

Woke up at 4:14 this morning; have been waking up at 4:40 since my family left, so this is not an improvement.  Will I wake up at 4:14 tomorrow? 

So, I'm operating on even fewer brain-cells than usual.  Time to cheat with yet another Postmodern Jukebox video.  This one is from three years ago, and I love the bit where Tambourine Guy comes charging in from the left - just wait for the iridescent mini-dress.


Very busy day tomorrow, so I'll probably cheat again.

Learning you were wrong

Little time today, so I'm cheating again. Aubrey Logan is another Postmodern Jukebox performer I would love to see live. (We did see the bassist.)

PMJ/OMG

I don't know if I can even begin to describe my excitement when I decided to check the line-up for the Victoria Jazz Fest a few days before departing for the annual retreat to visit Demeter and escape the hazy summer heat of Hades.

I expected to find the usual array of undoubtedly talented musicians of which I'd never heard. That's fine -- I'm open to being educated. Instead I found a listing for the Postmodern Jukebox, one of my favourite means for coming up with a blog-post when I have no time.

Hands shaking, I checked their website, because they usually have two or three travelling troupes on tour somewhere in the world. There was a promotional video showing them heading off in a tractor trailer "to Canada" -- presumably they think there's nothing but farms up here -- and I thought I could spot Sarah Niemietz and Casey Abrams among the throng.

I frantically booked tickets. I couldn't believe that PMJ was coming to Canada - I think they'd been to Montreal on one of their so-called "North American" tours - and that they would be performing at a venue that was actually accessible to me. Younger daughter, who has been exposed to PMJ through my Facebook shares, was pretty excited too.

At the appointed time, the Resident Fan Boy, younger daughter and I made our way through a beautiful post-solstice evening, walking the few blocks from Demeter's condo to the Royal Theatre. That was an additional treat for me; I haven't been to a performance at the Royal in about twenty years. Between our absence and extensive renovations to the theatre (first opened in 1913), there simply hasn't been the opportunity.

We were up in the gods, three rows from the top of the upper balcony, but I'd brought bird binoculars, and gazed rapturously at the distant performers

I haven't posted many of Sarah Niemietz's performances on this blog, which is odd, because I love her style and watch her PMJ videos repeatedly. She can take a song I like and take it to a different level.


The live performance had the extra thrill of hearing Casey Abrams sing backup for her on this one.

Niemietz, who, I've just discovered, is the same age as elder daughter, can also take a song I could live without and turn it into something fine.

Last summer I was able to identify this Justin Bieber ditty for my 12-year-old niece - because I'd heard the Postmodern Jukebox version.

I've posted more than one Casey Abrams PMJ video.  He's a force of nature. This song, originally recorded by Haddaway, features Maiyah Sykes on backing vocals (she's the lady in the Louboutins).  She blew away the crowd in Victoria with her solos.



After the show, we escaped down the back staircase and burst out into the night, still in twilight.  Victoria is several longitudes north of Ottawa, enough for sunsets past nine thirty in late June.  We were jet-lagged, but unexhausted.