Jun 29 2016

29. My All Time Favourite Song

moonAsk me that on my death bed, because I might have an answer then.

Because things can change.

It’s difficult to have a single all-time favourite.

I have favourite pop songs; favourite rock songs; favourite classical tunes. But, it’s really hard to pick a single favourite from each category, never mind overall.

But, if I had to choose… if you were to put a bun to my head and force me to pick one, then I would probably go with Fly Me To The Moon, a song that I have long heralded as a personal favourite.  Of course, Frank Sinatra had a big hit with it, but I’ve always preferred Julie London’s version.

In 2002, it became even more special to me. The current Mrs Masher and I were on a cruise ship out Singapore way, for my birthday. Each night, after dinner, we would finish up in our favourite bar, where long-legged Asian girls with improbably small bottoms and impossibly short skirts, would serve us free cocktails, whilst a pianist played gentle tunes in the corner.

It doesn’t get much better than that.

One evening, after downing several Black Russians, I wandered over and asked him to play Fly Me To The Moon. and he did.

And he played it the next night.

And the next.

In fact, wherever there was a piano, Ronald – for that was his name – would play it whenever he saw me. In the bar; in the casino; in the main dining hall. Even as we were disembarking at the end of the cruise, I heard it playing and turned to Ronald smiling at me as he played it on the grand piano at the bottom of the stairs.

It was ‘our tune’. Mine and Ronald’s.

Jun 28 2016

28. A Favourite Song From The Last Decade

JackoI got nothing. Again.


I can’t remember how long it took, but a while later, Jacko was back on his feet and the concert was re-scheduled. Of course, they honoured our original tickets.

Mrs M and I duly went along, this time with other members of her family, as the original lot weren’t able to make it this time round.

Following on from what had happened to Mrs M previously, we chose to sit down in the seating area, rather than in the crush in front of the stage.

And I was very happy with our seats. Having got there reasonably early, we managed to get a spot quite near to the stage and just off to the right, affording us a very good view.

I don’t remember a support act playing this time round, but what I do remember, is that when MJ came onto the stage and started his first number, everyone went wild: standing up from their seats and shouting and screaming and waving their arms.

I stayed seated, waiting for everyone to sit down again.

But they didn’t.

Everyone remained on their feet.

For the whole set.

What is the bloody point of having seats if you are not going to sit in them?

I wasn’t happy anymore.

And, classical music aside, I’ve never been to another concert since.

Jun 27 2016

27. A Song To Listen To At The End Of A Tough Day

japeyesGetting home after a tough day nowadays, tends to be as a result of my journey home. If the M25 is being a particularly nasty piece of work, I will often arrive home stressed and annoyed.

In those instances, I might sometimes opt to sitch off the podcasts and play some music in the car as I crawl along. What music I choose to play depends on… well, I don’t really know.

I suppose that more often than not, I need something relaxing, to try and wash away the road-rage that is building inside of me and is threatening to explode in an almighty “Tsk!” Something classical usually soothes the savage breast and I find Beethoven’s 7th or Mozart’s 40th or 41st will usually do the trick.

But, at other times I might feel the need to be elevated out of my traffic-induced funk, and will put on something a bit more lively. As I did the other day, when I found this golden oldie whilst scrolling through the library.

It was so good, I played it twice.

I picked this particular YouTube clip because I thought it was better than the original and not because it features Kirsten Dunst, who I really do not have a thing for. *

*Yes I do.

Jun 26 2016

26. A Song I Would Give To My Offspring

sonosI got nuffin for this one.

Of course, our kids will possibly never hear songs in true Hi-Fi. Yes, LP records are starting to make a comeback, but I daresay they will only appeal to the cognoscenti; the afficionados; the audiophiles.  With all the speed and convenience that downloading an MP3 offers, I can’t see that many youngsters will be rushing down to their local record store, to pay sixteen quid for Ed Sheeran’s latest 12 incher.

I’ll admit that I have also swapped convenience for form. Back in the day, I thought nothing of spending stupid amounts of money on the very latest thing to wow me from the pages of the Hi-Fi magazines: the best British speakers I could afford, standing on ludicrously expensive speaker stands; a properly decent, direct drive, German turntable with a top of the range Ortofon cartridge and a 5mm platter mat and a spindle clamp to hold the record flat; British amplifiers from Cambridge and oxygen-free cables to connect them all up.

It all sounded marvellous.

But, as my musical interests have waned and my ears no longer capture those subtle harmonic frequencies that added to the soundscape produced by all this kit, I’ve since stuck it all up in the loft and replaced it all with a small midi system that better suited the furniture in our living room.

And it all sounds just fine (although Mrs M would prefer it to have a bit more oomph!).

But, I’m even looking to replace that now.

In the kitchen we have a wireless speaker that is linked into the home WiFi. Using an app on a mobile phone or tablet, we can use it to listen to a bazillion different internet radio stations, although – at Mrs M’s behest – it remains firmly locked on to Kiss FM.

But, it can also stream our entire record collection from a Synology NAS drive that sits in the study and is backed up to a WD Elements drive in the shack. With search functions and playlists, it really is very convenient, and so I’m now looking to add other rooms into the system.

With Mrs M’s musical tastes and her penchant for volume, that may well be something I’ll regret.

So, rather than a song, the latest method of playing them is what I’ll be passing on to my kids.

Jun 25 2016

25. A Song From My Childhood

MilkBottlesThere are many songs that I remember distinctly from my childhood.

And, when I say “song”, I mean proper songs, not nursery rhymes or infantile chantings: “Milk, milk, lemonade, round the corner chocolate’s made”, being a case in point.

No, I’m talking about proper songs that were in the charts.

Such as Rolf Harris and his Two Little Boys.

But it’s best we speak no further of that one.

Chuck Berry wrote some wonderful rock ‘n’ roll pieces, but I mainly remember him for his Ding a Ling.

Dave Lee Travis as Laurie Lingo and the Dipsticks is another that we should only mention in hushed tones.

The Goodies had their Funky Gibbon whilst Jasper Carrott rode a Funky Moped.

And Ray Stevens was letting it all hang out with The Streak.

But, I can only choose one, and so I’m going for Benny Hill, with a song that both amused and upset me at the time.

Jun 24 2016

24. A Song That I Wish I Could Play On An Instrument

pianoBearing in mind my complete ineptitude with musical instruments, being able to play almost anything on almost any instrument would be a bonus.

In fact, I’d be quite happy, even if I learnt to play just this with any degree of complexity.

As it is, I taught myself how to play the start of it (with one hand) on our Yamaha keyboard, but I’ve since forgotten how.

But, whilst perusing the YouTubes for a suitable clip, I happened across this happy little chap showing off his skills.

Makes you sick, doesn’t it?

Jun 23 2016

23. A Song That I Can Play On An Instrument

musical instrumentsIt is a sad fact that I cannot play any songs on any musical instrument.

I really wish I could.

But I can’t.

Last year, I repaired an old keyboard that was being thrown out and I’m pleased to say that my daughter still enjoys playing on it, and I’ve no doubt that it has helped her develop some musical skills.

She’s certainly no child prodigy, but she has learnt how to play several songs… each with a degree of recognisability.

When I’m sitting upstairs, tinkering in the shack, I will sometimes hear her practicing. Last week, I was quite impressed when she segued almost seamlessly between Lukas Graham’s 7 Years (as mentioned previously), Beethoven’s Fur Elise and an Irish Jig written by her music teacher at school.

I’m quite chuffed about her skills. But, I’m not living vicariously through her musical talent: I do have a little myself.

When I was a kid, we would often stay with relatives over the Christmas period, and one particular year, I managed to master the opening couple of bars (yeah right, like I have any idea what a musical bar is),  I managed to master the first thirty seconds of Strangers In The Night.

With one hand.

On my uncle’s organ.

(You’ll notice the emphasis on the grammar and the word spacing there, for without it, this could have been a very different blog post.)

Hammond organs were all the rage back then and my uncle owned a beauty, which must have set him back a few bob.

None of us could play it though, apart from my grandad, who was a natural.

I’ve never forgotten it and I can still play that opening thirty seconds.

But only with one hand.

Jun 22 2016

22. A Song That Makes Me Laugh

laughing emoticonI don’t think there are any songs that make me laugh.

Not out loud, anyway.

But there are many songs that I find funny.

Most of them – of course – from the musical scribe of Eric Idle and his Monty Python chums.

“Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life”, is a favourite.

But then, so is the Lumberjack Song.

And “The Galaxy Song”.

And the one about “Brave, Brave Sir Robin”.

Decomposing Composers; Finland; SPAM; Camelot; I Like Traffic Lights; The Philosopher’s Song; I Like Chinese; Noel Coward’s Penis Song; Eric The Half A Bee; Sit On My Face… etc, they are all funny songs (that sadly, I know all the words to).

But, I can only pick one and so, I’m going with this.


Jun 21 2016

21. A Song That I Want Played At My Funeral

coffinHah! An easy one for a change.

For a long time, I’ve had two songs that I’d like played at my funeral.

The first – as everyone is walking in, would be Time To Say Goodbye, a poignant and beautiful song that I think is most suitable to just such an occasion. It was hearing Lesley Garrett singing it, that first enamoured me to the song, but over the years, I’ve probably come to prefer Sarah Brightman’s rendition. Here, she sings it live, along with Andrea Bocelli.

Then, afterwards as everyone is waking out, still in tears from the brilliant eulogy that I’d prepared beforehand, the unmistakable voice of Freddie Mercury singing his swansong The Show Must Go On, would waft over the speakers.  The poignancy that Freddie knew he was dying as he wrote this, is never lost on me, and I find it’s one of those songs that gets my hair standing on end, as a result.

And just to finish it all off I’d like, if possible, to throw this in right at the end.

Jun 20 2016

20. A Song That I Want Played At My Wedding

wedding-ringsUmm, well, as I’m already married and currently have no plans on doing it again…

I’m a bit of a traditionalist and at our wedding we had the Trumpet Voluntary by Purcell and Jerusalem by William Blake and Sir Hubert Parry. Mendelssohn’s Wedding March played us out, of course.

At the reception, after I had made my rubbish speech, the brand new Mrs Masher and I did the first dance to ‘our song’… as is the tradition with newly marrieds.

Don’t ask me what ‘our song’ was though.

I can 100% guarantee that Mrs M would know, but I really haven’t the foggiest.

Jun 19 2016

19. A Song I Listen To When I’m Sad

old wembleyI don’t do that.

So, instead I shall tell you about my penultimate concert attendance.

Back in 1992, the late Michael Jackson played Wembley Stadium.

The social club at BT managed to get tickets at greatly reduced prices and so I bought half a dozen and when the date finally arrived, myself, Mrs M, her sister, brother-in-law and two nieces all went along.

We arrived in plenty of time and at the insistence of the two young girls – and much to my annoyance – we opted to stand in front of the stage, getting as near as we could.

After much waiting around, Kriss Kross came on and made us Jump and then there was much more waiting around for the main man to come on.

We waited and we waited. It was very crowded and was getting hot and stuffy. It was then that Mrs M came over all peculiar (well, more peculiar than usual) and had an attack of claustrophobia. “I’ve got to get out of here”, she said, and with barely a pause she started punching and pushing her way through the crowd. And she wasn’t hanging about as she went, pushing people out of the way as I followed a couple of steps behind, apologising to everyone: “Sorry…. yes, sorry about that, she’s…. yep, sorry…”. Once we’d got out of the throng, I took her by the hand and led her toward the rear of the stadium where I could see empty seats.

Comfortably seated, we sat and waited whilst Mrs M calmed herself down, and still there was no sign of the main event. Then I noticed all the refreshment stalls were starting to close up and police officers were starting to place themselves around the stadium. One stood on the aisle steps next to me. I looked up at him. “He’s not coming on, y’know”, he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked

“Michael Jackson. He’s not coming on. He’s not feeling very well.”

I looked at him disbelievingly, but then heard a voice come over his police radio: “Standby, the announcement is about to be made”

Michael Jackson’s manager then came on to the stage and announce that MJ wouldn’t be coming out to play. The crowd laughed, thinking it was all part of an act, but I grabbed Mrs M’s hand and we legged it outside.  We were out of the stadium, out of the car park and back home, inside an hour.

Stuck in the middle of the crowd, it took Mrs M’s sister an hour and a half just to get out of the stadium and then another two to get out of the car park.

For once, I was quite grateful that Mrs Masher had thrown a wobbler.

To be continued.

Jun 18 2016

18. A Song That I Listen To When I’m Happy

Fireworks of various colors bursting against a black backgroundI don’t really listen to songs depending on my emotional state.

Yes, if I’m happy, I might put on some perky music to add to the mood, but I can’t think of any song in particular.


I got nuffink.

So… (again)

1988 was the year I saw my third different artist in concert: Jean Michel Jarre at the London Docklands.

Having been a fan of his music for many years, I’d long forgiven him for being French and was keen to see him when I heard about his Destination Docklands concert.  I applied for tickets but they sold out pretty quick and I lost out. A couple of friends gleefully rubbed it in, when they informed me that they had managed to get tickets. “Come down with us”, they said. “You might be able to get a ticket from a tout.”

I thought it was worth a shot and so we all headed down there together.

I found a chap blatantly selling tickets and bought one from him. It looked real enough, but the test would be whether it got me in.


Not only did it allow me access to the concert, but I actually paid considerably less for it than my mates did!

And the show was thoroughly magical… despite the inclement weather (Princess Diana attended the night before and I think the rain held off for her… because she was a princess).

Rain aside, it was a magical evening.

The piece of music I am selecting is Rendezvouz II, because I remember being totally captivated by the whole piece; standing in the rain watching the fireworks and lasers playing overhead, lighting up the clouds and the surrounding buildings and then, as the choir kicked in, all the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I had the closest thing to what I would call a religious experience.

*Note that the YouTube clip isn’t from the Docklands concert, but I think it gives you the idea.

Jun 17 2016

17. A Song That I Listen To When I’m Angry

queen-knebworth-1986I got nothin’

And so…

The next band I saw in concert was Queen.
I’d been a fan of the group since leaving school and owned most of their albums.

My girlfriend at the time and I, were on a motorcycling holiday in 1984, travelling around northern France.
As we came into Paris, I noticed posters on the walls advertising Queen in concert in Bercy.  “The Works” tour.

Turning my head round, I shouted through my helmet “Fancy that?”. She nodded and so I diverted our route away from the YMCA we were headed for and followed the signs for Bercy and the stadiumPalaise Omnisports.

To be honest, as we walked up to the ticket office, I didn’t expect any tickets to be available as we had just chanced upon it, but I managed to buy two with no problem at all for the following night’s show.

And, it was good. Our seats were a little far from the stage, but we had no obstructions and could hear the songs easily.

The French people surrounding us seemed to be having a good time and were singing along raucously… although I’m sure none of them actually knew any of the words.

I next saw them in 1986  when I went with some friends to see their “Magic” tour, when they played Knebworth – no-one realised at the time it was to be their last ever gig.

We were quite near the back, which suited me just fine.

My main memory from that gig was a Scottish chap who was seated next to us  on the grass. He was alone and had had a fair bit to drink, but he was friendly enough and was quite chatty. When Big Country – one of the support acts, along with Status Quo – came on, he immediately jumped up and started dancing. He was quite funny to watch, DRUNK as he was, cartwheeling around us and giving it his all.

When Big Country finished their set and left the stage, he picked up his jacket and carrier bag from the floor and off he walked. “Rrright, thas it, I’m orf”, he shouted with his deep Scottish accent as he set off toward the exit.

I’d never imagined someone would pay a full price ticket just to watch the support act.

Jun 16 2016

16. A Song From A Favourite Album

RAF_roundel.svgI don’t have a single favourite album.

But I suppose that I do have albums that are favourites.

In as much as, I play them more often than others.

Which means that I probably need to look at the albums stored on the car stereo and look at what I play the most.


OK. From the album Best Of The Who (which is quite possibly the most played album I have), I’d like you to meet the new boss.

He’s the same as the old boss.

Jun 15 2016

15. A Song That I Wish I Heard More Often On The Radio

toasterI got nuffin’.

Because – as previously mentioned – I don’t much listen to the radio anymore.

So anyway:

It occurred to me, that the number of concerts that I’ve been to (excluding classical), you could count on the fingers of one hand. Even if you had a finger missing.

My first was back in 1983. I was friends with this girl. Well, woman. We’ll call her Linda. Because that was her name. She was a tad older than me and had a touch of class about her. You don’t get much of that around here, so I was a little bit taken with her.

Besides that, I was twenty years old and full of hormones and was desperate to reach third base with her.

Whatever that means.

Hell, I hadn’t yet reached ANY bases with her and it was beginning to look like I never would.

But, she was a big fan of Paul Young – who was quite popular at the time – and so I thought that two tickets to see him at the Hammersmith Odeon, would probably go a long way towards me getting the chance to stretch some knicker elastic.

Whilst I wasn’t a fan of Mr Young and the tickets were a bit pricey, the potential reward was enough to get me flexing the ol’ Mastercard.

Besides, he came from Luton and he liked toast, so he couldn’t be all bad.

But, it really wasn’t my cup of tea and I can’t say I enjoyed it much.

Linda and I went our separate ways not long after.

No bases were ever touched.

Jun 14 2016

14. A Song That I Hear Too Often On the Radio

radiogagaWell, this is difficult, because I very rarely listen to the radio nowadays and even when I do, it’s mainly to listen to comedy shows or talk stations.

And even then, most of that listening is done in the car, having been downloaded in podcast format earlier.

But, I used to listen to the radio a lot. I was a huge fan of radio.

Like many youngsters back in the mid-seventies, I was weaned on BBC’s Radio 1. The likes of Noel Edmonds and Dave Lee Travis were my breakfast companions each morning and if I got home from school early enough, Diddy David Hamilton would be there to tell me that everything stopped for tea, at three.

But I grew out of Radio One when I realised that there were other stations to listen to.

I started listening to various local radio stations and the likes of BBC Radio London and GLR took my fancy.

For a while, Chris Tarrant on Capital Radio became my new breakfast pal, until I tired of the incessant adverts that punctuated the station’s output and went looking elsewhere.

I found Danny Baker’s Morning Show on BBC Radio 5 and I was genuinely upset when that show came to an end. For me, though I still rate him as one of best radio presenters, that was when Danny was at his peak.

When my parents returned from a fortnight’s holiday in 1980, my dad was aghast to see that I’d had an FM receiving aerial fitted to the chimney. With a rotator. Atop an 18ft mast. All this, just so I could listen to Timbo when he did the late night show on BBC Radio Essex!

But, I also enjoyed searching for those more esoteric stations, and would sometimes spend evenings lying on my bed with a shortwave radio listening to the exotic delights of the Voice Of America; the BBC World Service and other stations around the globe – most especially the English-speaking Russian stations, which fascinated me.

But, as I say, times change and the only radio that I tend to hear live nowadays, is Radio 4.

Or Kiss FM.

Because Mrs M always has that playing throughout the weekend and I get to hear every bloody song in ‘The Charts’ several times a day.

But this one – which I’m really not a fan of – seems to get more air-time than most.

I wish it didn’t.

Jun 13 2016

13. A Song That I Used To Love But Now Hate

Bagpipe_GirlAs I’ve mentioned previously, there are no songs or bands that I hate.

Dislike intensely, maybe.

But, even then, I can’t think of a song that I used to love, but now dislike intensely.

Back in the seventies, I was a fan of Paul McCartney’s group Wings and bought most of their albums and the occasional single.

And in 1977 I bought their biggest hit, Mull of Kintyre, a single that stayed at number one for an impressive nine weeks and outsold just about everything else at the time.

I played that record till I knew it backwards and knew it word for word.

I loved it.

But now? Well, I don’t hate it – or even dislike it intensely – but I do find it somewhat dreary. And if this four and a half minute dirge suddenly plays out on a random play list, I find myself heading for that SKIP button faster than a fat kid at a cake buffet.

Jun 12 2016

12. A Song That No-one Would Expect Me To Love

BORATA runner up in the previous category, this song qualifies more as a song that I really quite like, rather than actually love.

Having two young children and a wife with musical tastes that are half her actual age, I’m subjected to a lot of the modern stuff that passes for music nowadays (how old do I sound right now!).

And, of course, some of it rubs off on me and I find myself enjoying it when really, a man of my breeding, class and erudition, should be eschewing it… as one would a rabid dog.

But, despite its suggestive lyrics and ludicrous video, it has a catchy beat which endears me to it.

Besides, I don’t care what others might say, I’m sexy and I know it.

Jun 11 2016

11. A Song That Is A Guilty Pleasure

Psy-Gangnam-StyleHeeeeeeeeyyyyy, Sexy Lady…

This song is rubbish, let’s face it.

OK, the lyrics might make sense in Korea, but to us westerners it’s just unfathomable noises.

But it’s fun.

And it has a beat.

And it gets in your head.

And the video is fun to watch.

I know I shouldn’t, but I love it.

Jun 10 2016

10. A Song From A Band That I Hate

pilotI got nothing.

It’s true that I’m not keen on a lot of the stuff that the kids are playing nowadays, but that’s just me being old. I don’t think I actually hate any of them.

Not even One Direction (are they still going?)

So instead, I’ll tell you the first song/record that I ever bought.


I bought it with my own hard-earned pocket/paper round money.

69p from Woolies, as I remember.

January by Pilot

Jun 09 2016

9. A Song That Fits My Personality

teaJeez, but these are hard!

I don’t even know what my personality is.

But I think this fits… sorta.

And I do like a nice cup of tea.

Jun 08 2016

8. A Song That Makes Me Fall Asleep

sleepI have nothing for this.

I cannot think of any song that has made me fall asleep.


So, I’ll go with the obvious: Brahms’ Lullaby.

Not that it has ever actually caused me to fall asleep, but it did to this lady.

Jun 07 2016

7. A Song That I Can Dance To

danceFor years and years, I’ve had this party piece.

It’s something I’ve done at parties.

That’s why I call it my party piece.

I would roll my trouser legs up and stick a knotted hanky on my head (a lá Mr Gumby) whilst going a bit bonkers on the dancefloor to one particular song.

Alcohol may have had a hand in this particular

Then a couple of years ago, my cousin emailed me a picture she had taken of me in full flow at a family function.

I hadn’t realised until then, how much of a twat I looked and so – despite several requests at more recent affairs – the trouser legs now stay down and the handkerchief stays in my pocket.

But, knees showing or not, I still can’t resist tripping the light fantastic whenever this comes on.

Jun 06 2016

6. A Song That I Know All The Words To

messier-81_1086_600x450Well, I’m sure there must be lots and lots of songs that I know all the words to.

I thought I knew all the words to the Hallelujah Chorus, but it turns out I just know the word Hallelujah.

So, here is a song that I know all the words to, but probably shouldn’t, because it then makes me “one of those nerdy guys who knows all the words to all their sketches”.

Which I nearly do.

But I don’t care, because Eric Idle is a genius.


Jun 05 2016

5. A Song That Reminds Me Of An Event

happyIt was July 2002 and I was on my way to work.

The A505 was clear, the sun was shining and I was flying along.

It was going to be a good day. I could feel it.

And it needed some loud music.

I slipped some Puddle of Mudd into the CD player and was enjoying the first track, when the audio suddenly cut out as the phone rang.

It was Mrs Masher. She was ringing to let me know that she’d done the test, and could confirm that after years of us trying, she was finally with child.

I beamed and laughed excitedly as I hung up the phone. Then I turned the stereo up to 11 and put my foot down.

It was a bloody good day indeed.

Jun 04 2016

4. A Song That Reminds Me Of Somewhere

DeckchairsI was nine years old when I had my first flight on a plane.

Mum and dad never had the money back then, to take us on fancy trips to other countries. Margate, Walton-on-the-Naze, Great Yarmouth, Clacton and Weymouth were our holiday destinations back then, with me and my sisters and suitcases and bags all stuffed into the back of my dad’s red Ford Cortina.

But, as a first grandchild, I suppose you could say I was somewhat favourited by my maternal grandparents and in 1971 they took me on holiday with them to exotic Majorca. At that point, even my parents had never flown abroad and so I remember feeling very special.

I have distant memories of that holiday. I know we stayed in the Hotel Guadaloupe (I wonder if it still there) and I remember having a passionate liking for the caramel custards served up in the hotel restaurant.

I also remember making friends – as kids easily do on holiday – with a Swedish boy, who was the same age as me. His English was less than rudimentary and my mastery of his language was non-existent, but we managed to communicate somehow and I was sorry to say goodbye to him at the end of the holiday.  I think, at the time, we were actually the only two kids there. Different times.

I was trying to find a photograph to post here (but couldn’t find it), of a young me playing some maracas alongside the house band, who would play British pop songs each night.

A favourite at the time was doing well in the charts, and the band would play it each night and I would stand next to them and join in with my maracas. And I was bloody good, as well!

Lady and Gentleman, I give you a song that reminds me of my first ‘proper’ holiday: Funny, Funny by The Sweet.

Jun 03 2016

3. A Song That Reminds Me Of Someone

got-nothingI’ve got nothing.

I’ve racked my brains and can’t think of any song that reminds me of anyone.

But, this is supposed to be a challenge and so, in a radical re-interpretation of the rules, I’ve decided that I’ll write about something else instead.

But still with a musical bent:

I bought a CD last week.

Now, that may not seem to be an interesting statement to make, but, this is the first CD that I have bought in a long time. In fact, I honestly cannot remember the last one I bought… or when I bought it.

This isn’t because I now download all my music, because I don’t.

It’s simply that I don’t have that great an interest in music so much nowadays.

I used to though. Oh yes. Back in the day I was far more into it and regularly spent hours in Our Price or HMV, leafing through the CD racks to see if anything took my fancy.

Nowadays however, I find that my Compact Disc™ library of about 150+ titles is plenty for me to choose from.

Occasionally though, I’ll hear something or remember a piece and will just have to get it.

And this happened last week, when I suddenly ‘remembered’ Mozart’s 25th Symphony.  A wonderful piece that was used for the opening titles of the film Amadeus, which is where I probably first heard and adored it.

I used to have it on vinyl, so it was only right that I should now own it again, but in a digital format.

£2.98 off ebay.  Including postage. Bargain!

It arrived on Saturday, but I’ve not got round to playing it yet. But I will. When the time is right.

Apparently, Mozart was only 17 when he wrote his 25th Symphony.

Precocious sod.


Jun 02 2016

2. A Song That Makes Me Sad

sadfaceY’know, I can’t think of any songs that actually make me feel sad.

I do remember playing Elvis Presley singing Old Shep, really loudly and repeatedly in my bedroom, when I was a kid, in protest at my dad having had our pet dog put down.  That would possibly bring back sad memories, I suppose.

But, I ain’t no Elvis fan and won’t be linking to him here, so instead I shall go for Mr Bojangles by the late, great Sammy Davis Jr.

An old song full of melancholy and yet one that still manages to raise the hair on the back of my neck most times I hear it.


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