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 60:

Lost Weekend

As Spike Milligan had etched on his tombstone: "I told you I was sick". That is, without question, the ultimate last laugh. Indeed I have been illing, as the Beastie Boys would've put it in 1986, which brought to mind Lloyd Cole's wonderful single off "(Too) Easy PIeces', "Lost Weekend" a play on Billy Wilder's epic 1945 flick starring Ray Milland. Lloyd's bodily abuse was less self-abuse than virally informed, if you are to believe his betwixt and between song banter at recent gigs, but he insists that, unlike much of his work, this one is pretty autobiographical. Hallunications of Jesus, cold sweats, costly codeine...ohh, the tourist's lot. As always, it's very clever. Given the song's locale, you could say it was perhaps very clever clogs. Sigh. Does anyone recognise the Rolling Stones reference?

"It took a lost weekend in a hotel in Amsterdam
And double pneumonia in a single room
And the sickest joke was the price of the medicine
Are you laughing at me now may I please laugh along with you

This morning I woke up from a deep unquiet sleep
With ashtray clothes and Miss Lonelyheart's pen
With which I wrote for you a lovesong in tatoo
Upon my palm 'twas stolen from me when Jesus took my hand

You see I, I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it
Drop me and I'll fall to pieces too easily

I was a king bee with a head full of attitude
Wore my heart on my sleeve like a stain and
My aim was to taboo you
Could we meet in the marketplace
Did I ever hey please did you wound my knees

And there's nobody else to blame

Will I hang my head in a crying shame
There is nobody else to blame nobody else except my sweet self

Again it took a lost weekend in a hotel in amsterdam
Twenty four gone years to conclude in tears
That the sickest joke was the price of the medicine
Are you laughing at me now
May I please laugh along

I was a king bee with a head full of attitude
And ashtray heart on my sleeve wounded knees
And my one love song was a tatoo upon my palm
You wrote upon me when you took my hand

You see I I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it
Drop me and I'll fall to pieces too easily"

Sniff

mIcky