100 Days Project

Michael: Saving the languishing lyrical gems of modern pop

My aim is to trawl through my memory, my "record collection" and quotation references to unearth great pop poetry, drop it in, shine it up, make a comment or two as to its origin and personal impact. Enlighten? Hmm. Entertain, amuse, I hope. 100 times.

Day 27:

Blue-Bellied Devils

"Stinking weather for shaking hands". Indeed, Mr Bowie, indeed. And this incessant rain and cold, these "nights into which we wouldn't send our dogs" (Shriekback) have made me a tad maudlin. If anyone has a problem with that, I shall simply reply with another Paddy Prefabism:

"It’s a sorry way for a man to feel
But sentimental is part of the deal"

We could get self-piteous:

"I'm just the dust off someone's ash
See you in hell with the rest of the trash"

Ian McCulloch at his more biled-fuelled. There's self-piteous with envy...

"Remember me when you're the one who's silver screened
Remember me when you're the one you always dreamed"

and from ther same Placebo song, self-piteous with a hilarious rhyming convention

"Remember me when you clinch your movie deal
And think of me stuck in my chair that has four wheels"

There. Didn't that just suck the pathos out of it.

Then there's the, trying to sell yourself to she who is about to leave and, well, just making a fucking mess of it. Come on down, Tom Petty:

"Honey don't walk out,"

OK, not unreasonable demand, echoed in a million pop songs from 1955 to about now. But why not, Tom? Cos you'll try harder/do better/be a nicer guy/buy her flowers? No. Clincher. Brilliant. Um, blown it.

"Cos I'm too drunk to follow" Genius! But not too drunk to dispense advice.

"You know you won't feel this way tomorrow"

Neither will you, bud, neither will you. But Tom, well, he was "born a rebel"

"With one foot in the grave/and one foot on the pedal..."

Love, death and cars: that's about as rock 'n' roll as you can get, ain't it? And cars gets me thinking about The Boss and a wonderful articulation of the turmoil of youth, of the pain of the dispossessed and the frustration at being unable to express it. So Bruce just tells it like it is. From Badlands:

"Lights out tonight/trouble in the heartland
Got a head-on collision/crashing in my guts, man
I'm caught in a crossfire/I don't understand"

I feel like that most of the time! Say what you like, but that man is a poet, dammit.