apolla: (George and Arthur)
I just saw A Hard Day's Night in my favourite cinema. I haven't seen it in a long while.

When I was fifteen, I watched A Hard Day's Night almost every night upon returning from the misery of school. Some nights, I watched it twice. I fast-forwarded through bits I didn't dig so much - never got along with the "Can't Buy Me Love" scene because I never rated that song very highly.

I loved it, though. The humour: sometimes wry, sometimes broad, sometimes rather naughty for the times, the in-jokes. It became a new language for me to talk in - my friend Louise also knew the movie and we would pepper our conversation with "that's an in-joke you know" and the likes. I was a Lennon Person then, and I think he gets a lot of the best lines in the movie, so maybe that's why I was a Lennon person (constantly re-reading Coleman's Lennon biography helped).

I watched the damn film so many times that I could still recite most of the script along with them when I saw it earlier. And yet it felt fresh and new in some ways to see it on a big screen: I hadn't noticed that Wilfred Brambell's character is actually reading a nudie magazine at the start. I'd forgotten how much of a shock that first chord in "A Hard Day's Night" is when it opens the movie. I found new appreciation for the "Can't Buy Me Love" segment on the big screen, and through not being able to FF through it.

To this day, I still think of the supporting cast as being "...who was in A Hard Day's Night" with few exceptions. Anna Quayle will always be Mrs Monroe from Grange Hill first; and Wilfred Brambell is and ever will be Steptoe first and foremost. It doesn't matter that Norman Rossington had a lengthy and successful career, when I saw him in his Sharpe appearance, my reaction was "You're a swine!"

It even influenced how I speak: there are some lines I use in every day speech that I'd basically forgotten I'd nicked from them! Today my work colleague Phil and I will occasionally (OK, regularly) break into a quote-the-movie game if so much as a word or theme comes up in the everyday. "A drag, a well known drag." You can imagine what we were like during the fuss about Swine Flu.

As a lover of movies as much as of music, I find it a fascinating film. Shot in black and white, it captures that moment just before the 1960s became "The Sixties" both in terms of how London and her people are depicted, and in cinema terms. Hand-held cameras, quick cuts, a realistic chaos, editing in time with the songs and even some Altman-like talking over each other... these are not things one saw in movies much if at all before. Mostly though, they're already taking the piss out of Beatlemania while it's still going on! It is, I think, really quite scornful, not even gentle satire at times. It's the weary scorn George displayed in his Anthology interviews where he talked about the fans giving their screams but the Beatles giving their nervous systems. The scene with George and the marketing guy still works perfectly today because hell, that's all it is now!

I think the Beatles often get credited with doing things "first" when maybe it's not fully accurate or fair. But A Hard Day's Night was something new and fresh and game-changing. Not just because of those four, but thanks to Alun Owen's script and Richard Lester's direction. I must've seen it more than 100 times and today was like meeting an old pal one hasn't seen for a long time and discovering that they're still delightful.

So today's Awesome thing is "I'm Happy Just To Dance WIth You" because it was one of my favourite songs in the film, because although I thought then that the sun shone out of Lennon's arse, I was beginning to realise that Harrison was just as interesting a character... "bonus" Lionel Blair at the beginning, too...


Last thing: the icon accompanying this post is one I made years ago when I still cared to do such things. It's a reference to a line in A Hard Day's Night.
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I have a habit. An irritating habit. I like to share YouTube videos on Facebook on even the smallest pretext. This leads to me basically spamming my own FB profile with videos each time I stop there. So far, I've managed to refrain from sharing The Late Late Show With Craig Ferguson every time I burst out laughing.

Lately, I've been profile-spamming with Rory Gallagher videos every so often. Or rather, every time I go to YouTube in search of a Rory video. I'm in the mid-period stage of New Obsession, and it's just as well that YouTube wasn't around when I went through the same with The Beatles, or with Led Zeppelin or with Thin Lizzy or with The Doors, or with Dean Martin.

Amongst the videos I posted the other day was this:


I added the note"I wasn't going to clutter FB with any more tonight but the end of this is astonishing in its grand fabulousness." If you want to accuse me of being over the top, hyperbolic or just plain nuts, that's cool. I happen to think it's a very cool live exploration of the song that reaches a thoroughly satisfactory climax (oh, matron, etc etc) but part of my excitement was bound up in the newness: it was the first time I'd heard it in such an arrangement.

Now one of my friends on Facebook, the Fabulous Marie, clicked 'Like' on a few of the videos and I was glad that someone - anyone - had seen then. I get quite preachy when I fall down the rabbit hole for a musician, I know this. "OMG YOU MUST LISTEN! NO REALLY!". I know, and I'm at least less awful than I used to be (just ask anyone who was around when I fell down the Doors rabbit hole).

I posted a bunch of videos, and also, while I'm at it, the profound FB status message "RANDOM SCOTT GORHAM ON TV!" so it's fair to say I was in a particular frame of mind: the oh my god, rock music is all I care about and all I can think about frame of mind. Haven't been there for a while, and it was fun. So imagine the mixture of emotions the next day when I read an email alert that someone had replied to my posting of the above video.

"It's not as if he's the best or anything - do you just fancy him?"

On the face of it... it's just a slightly stupid, shallow remark. There's more to this than meets the eye, to borrow a phrase from the movie Help! (more on that later).

Let us examine this, because I'm still angry two days later. Leaving aside the quality judgement, because that's not the issue and is always going to be contentious in rock geek circles, the question.... do you just fancy him?

Exsqueeze me, baking powder? (another quote from another rock music movie). What did you just say? It was a boy who said it, for the record, called Adam. I have had several online discussions with him about music, the blues, Clapton and Gallagher. I know he falls on the side of Clapton. I do not. I only know him via my brother, so I can't claim to know him at all well. I can't speak to his motives or meanings behind the remark. I can only speak to how it feels to read such a remark. And I'm fucking well going to speak to it.

How dare you.

I was immediately put in mind of a fascinating feminist post over at Shakesville: The Terrible Bargain We Have Regretfully Struck. If you, men and women, read nothing else about this post, click the link and read. I was put in mind because the question that came to me as I read the comment from Adam was: Swallow shit, or ruin the afternoon? As the article suggests, moments that wear/cut away at a woman's sense of self, worth, importance have already ruined the proverbial afternoon for them. So fuck it kids, I'm going to ruin the afternoon.

I am sick and tired - oh so weary - of being treated in a particular way for being a rock fan with a cunt. The number of times I've had men (and some women) patronise me, scorn me, outright mock or attack me for it... I took a Pop Music Culture class nearly a decade ago in which I had to stand up for myself - and all the other female rock fans - for wanting to love the music.

So let me ask a question. If a man posted four or five videos of a musician they liked a great deal, would 'do you fancy him' be a question that even occurred to anyone? Rock music is still so skewed towards men. That's fine, as long as they're good at it. I mean come on! My absolute favourite musicians are all men! This may be due to a conspicuous lack of choice in the female rock department.

Who is there? In mainstream rock music, I mean. There are the Bikini Kill and Riot Grrrl types who are to be respected and commended, but you can't call it mainstream... Who is there who ROCKS THE FUCK OUT while in possession of a vagina?

You're having trouble, aren't you? Don't worry, you're not the only ones: Rolling Stone's Immortals list has only four women in the top fifty, and Aretha (number nine) is a soul singer, Madonna's (36) a clotheshorse bandwagoner. Only the other two, Janis Joplin and Patti Smith, can even reasonably be considered to share the same space as the guys. I don't say this to deride the Queen or Madge, just to point out that they're not rockers. Janis and Patti are at places 46 and 47 respectively. The bottom fifty has six females/girl groups.

It's not because girls don't like rock music. It's not because they can't play it. It's because they're told they can't, or just plain told not to. I remember why I asked to learn the guitar when I was seven years old. I was watching Top of the Pops (a very long time ago, when I could still find something on there to like). I made the connection between rock music, guitars and cool pretty easily. I was a kid who had her own record player at the age of six and listened to Buddy Holly records. It was 1989. I wanted to play the guitar. The electric guitar like all those cool-as-fuck musicians. Can you imagine the disappointment I had to hide when my mummy took me to the music school and introduced me to my classical guitar teacher? I wanted to ROCK OUT but it had been assumed (I assume in turn) that it would be classical. I turned out to love my lessons and stuck with them from the age of ten to nineteen, and I only stopped them to go to university. (Sidenote: Mr Burden, you're a fucking legend.) But the assumption hurt.

For the record, I'm sitting within two feet of two guitars: a Fender California series electro-acoustic slice of gorgeousness and a gold copy-Strat. There's a bass (Fender jazz copy.) (rarely played) sitting in my spare room.

So anyway, I've been dealing with this shit for twenty years and it still stings. I wouldn't be writing this if Adam's remark didn't hurt a little. How can I explain without seeming like An Irrational Female or A Bitch? I can practically hear the TVTropes names forming. How can I adequately explain the shredding of my heart every time some ignorant tossmonkey suggests that the only reason I could ever love music is because I fancy the musician? My God, it still hurts, every single time, and partly on behalf of the musicians in question. What an insult it is to them to suggest that I could only love them for their face and body? (There is an argument to be made that Robert Plant asked for it).

I suppose it couldn't possibly be because of the music, could it? Or them as humans for being charismatic or intelligent, or funny? It couldn't be because of a MONSTER RIFF or a STONKING BASSLINE or a PROFOUND LYRIC? God, the mere idea of loving the Beatles for the music! Why didn't I think of that before? Whyever would I like Led Zeppelin for Jimmy's fourteen track guitar solos or for Bonzo's extended Moby Dick drum solo? (for the record: I actually love the version of Moby Dick that's in The Song Remains The Same).

I couldn't possibly like Rory Gallagher for his mad guitar skills, could I? Or his often excellent songwriting? There are a couple of his songs that are such excellent examples of their type that I assumed they were covers. 'Goin' To My Hometown' is a particularly excellent example. It couldn't possibly be because he brought an Irish lyricality to the blues and a deep authentic feeling that I have never once believed from Eric Clapton, could it? It couldn't be his dedication to the music, or the simple-but-effective live shows? No, I must fancy him.

A far more stinging and accurate mockery would've been to suggest I only like him for being Irish. It'd be more accurate than 'oooooh, you lurrrrrrve him!' but it'd still be wrong.

Why are women still barred from being considered 'proper' fans of anything? Why are we still having our motives questioned? Are we still tagged as groupies, no matter what we do? Are we all supposed to be crazy fangirls, as if my love of rock music is the same as a tinhat Supernatural fan's love of J2? Even if it is, what would be wrong with that? A guy can own thousands of records and be a fan, a girl could own the same and be tagged as a crazy fangirl.

I appreciate that the screaming girls since the Bobbysoxers have not helped the cause. However, you don't know what it was they loved, and not all fangirls are the same. Twihards right now are not helping, but it's possible - just possible - that they love the books above loving Robert Pattinson. Have you even asked?

Oh hey, Fact Fans! For all the crazy fangirls that clutter the internet and the world, it was a white man who killed John Lennon. To extend this further, a white man killed Jim Morrison, when you think about it.

I sit opposite a rock fan called Phil at work. We routinely drive everyone else mad by bickering, for one thing, and for droning about rock music for another. We also quote A Hard Day's Night and Help! at each other for a good portion of any given day. Swine flu has been particularly good for this: He's a swiiiiiiine. Phil can speak at length about the differences between the stereo and mono mixes of the Beatles records and on Friday spent some time waxing truly lyrical about the new remaster of Abbey Road. He is almost as much of a fan of several other bands. He dislikes my ironic love of Xanadu because that's when he finally gave up on ELO. He's seen Clapton tons of times. I don't believe he's ever been accused of being in love with any of the bands he likes.

Go over to YouTube and read the comments on Rory Gallagher videos:

Do please pardon my language.But Goddamn fuckin amazing ... 5:49 ... with the bass ... and the ... the ... oh god i love it .....  by someone called Brianlovesiobhan on the video above.

ah for feck sake!!!!!!! that was just unreal. Vids of Rory blow me away everytime! thanks a million for sharing! from someone called MonkeyMan198599, video and comment linked in quote.

Now, I can't be sure that these people (there are hundreds of similarly adoring comments on most of RG's videos, but I'm not going to spam you with them now) are men... but I can surmise it. I suppose that they too must fancy Rory? Or am I to understand that only men can be obsessive about music and that women must only be obsessive about musicians?

It's entirely possible for a woman to fall in love with a rock and roll musician. It's just as possible for her not to. It's actually a pretty complex set of emotions for me, so for someone to reduce it to do you just fancy him is infuriating. Even if I did explain, I don't think most people would be interested, which is fair enough, but don't reduce it to the lowest common denominator. I've sat for hours watching old concerts for these people, I've lost days of my life to listening to their records. I'm poor because of them. I've travelled the globe for them, I've stood at their graves. I've danced around the living room alone at 2 o'clock in the morning because of a funky song. I've read books. I've written dissertations and blog posts. I've laughed and I've cried. I've watched great documentaries and shit documentaries. I've defended and attacked them. I've fought their corners. I've sung their songs on stages. I've written songs about them. I've done all this because of the music.

To quote briefly from a long-ago post I made that was nominally about the Phantom of the Opera but was actually about Jim and Me:

It is a handy little extra that Jim Morrison is Adonis. It makes putting pictures of him up on the wall a genuine pleasure. It's always nice to have beautiful things to look at. But you don't get pictures when you're listening to a record. When it's just you and the vinyl, the only thing he has to win you over completely is his voice singing his words. No pout, no smirk or smoulder or trousers. There's none of the slumping onto microphones or falling into a heap. Only a voice.

Would I love Jim Morrison if he were ugly? I don’t think I’ve ever actually had a choice in the matter.

Note the phrase 'would I love' rather than 'would I be in love with'. To me, they're not the same thing. In fact, I believe I use the word 'love' as shorthand a lot of the time, because everyone understands love but they don't necessarily understand the rock fan - musician relationship. 'Love' is an easy way of avoiding exactly what I mean.

To quote briefly from a post I made in July 2007:

Without music I'd be dead. Or at least very, terribly hollow and dead inside. I might still live and breathe, but who would I be? I talk music most of the time, I think music even more. The only things that distract me from music are writing, movies and myself. That's it. There's nothing else.

I'm not saying you can't crush on musicians, can't be in love with them... it's just that it's not why a lot of us women love the music first and foremost and above everything else. To suggest that I could only love the music because of the man makes my stomach twist itself inside out because I love the music so much for itself. Yet, it's hard often to explain adequately how or why a piece of music is so important... but it's relatively easy to talk about people. I have talked about how I love Jim Morrison or any of the others - but it's not a crush. It's not romantic and never was. It was a depth of affection for someone who gave me that music. If Jim hadn't written those songs, I wouldn't give a flying rat's arse about him in or out of a shirt. I love the music, so I love them for the music. That doesn't give them a free pass to make shit music and it doesn't mean that I sit here daydreaming about them.

Wouldn't that be a waste of fucking time in my case, given that most of the bastards are dead?

I don't want to fuck or marry these people. I want to see them live in concert. When I hear the music I love, I feel alive. I feel like there's meaning to the world. I feel like there's wonder and brilliance in the world. I feel like I could fly. My heart soars or dips depending on the song. I get songs stuck in my head. Some songs make my blood run hot, some turn my blood cold. Some songs make me want to die. Others make me want to live. That makes you and me and all the other rock fans pretty much the same, whether we have a cock or a cunt, something else or none of the above. Amazing, right?

I'm going to leave you with a few choice quotes that, depending on your point of view, should leave you squirming and uncomfortable or punching the air triumphantly, mostly from women in music, because the only real difference between the person on stage and the person in the audience is what side of the security guard they can see.

People don't want to see women doing things they don't think women should do. Joan Jett

Girls have got balls. They're just a little higher up that's all. Joan Jett.

Aggressive, tough and defiant may describe me, but that leaves the impression I'm mean and I'm not. Joan Jett, again.

I figured out it was a social thing, what women were allowed to do. At a very young age, I decided I was not going to follow women's rules.  Joan Jett, once more. Has she had to spend her entire career explaining and defending her choice? (answer: Yes).

As far as I'm concerned, being any gender is a drag. Patti Smith.

No, my work does not reflect my sexual preferences, it reflects the fact that I feel total freedom as an artist.  Patti Smith.

On stage I make love to twenty five thousand people; and then I go home alone.  Janis Joplin

Some nights I look out and want to fuck the whole front row. Robert Plant

The so-called feminist writers were disgusted with me. I did my thing, and so I guess by feminist standards I'm a feminist. That suits me fine.  Chrissie Hynde

I dig music. The fictional musician Russell Hammond in Almost Famous, a film which didn't help the girl-fan (not fangirl) cause but was otherwise OK.

and a final word from one of our sponsors:

You know, people can't fall in love with me just because I'm good at what I do. Robert Plant, 1977 (I'd be interested in the context of this quote if anyone has it).
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I have a habit. An irritating habit. I like to share YouTube videos on Facebook on even the smallest pretext. This leads to me basically spamming my own FB profile with videos each time I stop there. So far, I've managed to refrain from sharing The Late Late Show With Craig Ferguson every time I burst out laughing.

Lately, I've been profile-spamming with Rory Gallagher videos every so often. Or rather, every time I go to YouTube in search of a Rory video. I'm in the mid-period stage of New Obsession, and it's just as well that YouTube wasn't around when I went through the same with The Beatles, or with Led Zeppelin or with Thin Lizzy or with The Doors, or with Dean Martin.

Amongst the videos I posted the other day was this:


I added the note"I wasn't going to clutter FB with any more tonight but the end of this is astonishing in its grand fabulousness." If you want to accuse me of being over the top, hyperbolic or just plain nuts, that's cool. I happen to think it's a very cool live exploration of the song that reaches a thoroughly satisfactory climax (oh, matron, etc etc) but part of my excitement was bound up in the newness: it was the first time I'd heard it in such an arrangement.

Now one of my friends on Facebook, the Fabulous Marie, clicked 'Like' on a few of the videos and I was glad that someone - anyone - had seen then. I get quite preachy when I fall down the rabbit hole for a musician, I know this. "OMG YOU MUST LISTEN! NO REALLY!". I know, and I'm at least less awful than I used to be (just ask anyone who was around when I fell down the Doors rabbit hole).

I posted a bunch of videos, and also, while I'm at it, the profound FB status message "RANDOM SCOTT GORHAM ON TV!" so it's fair to say I was in a particular frame of mind: the oh my god, rock music is all I care about and all I can think about frame of mind. Haven't been there for a while, and it was fun. So imagine the mixture of emotions the next day when I read an email alert that someone had replied to my posting of the above video.

"It's not as if he's the best or anything - do you just fancy him?"

On the face of it... it's just a slightly stupid, shallow remark. There's more to this than meets the eye, to borrow a phrase from the movie Help! (more on that later).

Let us examine this, because I'm still angry two days later. Leaving aside the quality judgement, because that's not the issue and is always going to be contentious in rock geek circles, the question.... do you just fancy him?

Exsqueeze me, baking powder? (another quote from another rock music movie). What did you just say? It was a boy who said it, for the record, called Adam. I have had several online discussions with him about music, the blues, Clapton and Gallagher. I know he falls on the side of Clapton. I do not. I only know him via my brother, so I can't claim to know him at all well. I can't speak to his motives or meanings behind the remark. I can only speak to how it feels to read such a remark. And I'm fucking well going to speak to it.

How dare you.

I was immediately put in mind of a fascinating feminist post over at Shakesville: The Terrible Bargain We Have Regretfully Struck. If you, men and women, read nothing else about this post, click the link and read. I was put in mind because the question that came to me as I read the comment from Adam was: Swallow shit, or ruin the afternoon? As the article suggests, moments that wear/cut away at a woman's sense of self, worth, importance have already ruined the proverbial afternoon for them. So fuck it kids, I'm going to ruin the afternoon.

I am sick and tired - oh so weary - of being treated in a particular way for being a rock fan with a cunt. The number of times I've had men (and some women) patronise me, scorn me, outright mock or attack me for it... I took a Pop Music Culture class nearly a decade ago in which I had to stand up for myself - and all the other female rock fans - for wanting to love the music.

So let me ask a question. If a man posted four or five videos of a musician they liked a great deal, would 'do you fancy him' be a question that even occurred to anyone? Rock music is still so skewed towards men. That's fine, as long as they're good at it. I mean come on! My absolute favourite musicians are all men! This may be due to a conspicuous lack of choice in the female rock department.

Who is there? In mainstream rock music, I mean. There are the Bikini Kill and Riot Grrrl types who are to be respected and commended, but you can't call it mainstream... Who is there who ROCKS THE FUCK OUT while in possession of a vagina?

You're having trouble, aren't you? Don't worry, you're not the only ones: Rolling Stone's Immortals list has only four women in the top fifty, and Aretha (number nine) is a soul singer, Madonna's (36) a clotheshorse bandwagoner. Only the other two, Janis Joplin and Patti Smith, can even reasonably be considered to share the same space as the guys. I don't say this to deride the Queen or Madge, just to point out that they're not rockers. Janis and Patti are at places 46 and 47 respectively. The bottom fifty has six females/girl groups.

It's not because girls don't like rock music. It's not because they can't play it. It's because they're told they can't, or just plain told not to. I remember why I asked to learn the guitar when I was seven years old. I was watching Top of the Pops (a very long time ago, when I could still find something on there to like). I made the connection between rock music, guitars and cool pretty easily. I was a kid who had her own record player at the age of six and listened to Buddy Holly records. It was 1989. I wanted to play the guitar. The electric guitar like all those cool-as-fuck musicians. Can you imagine the disappointment I had to hide when my mummy took me to the music school and introduced me to my classical guitar teacher? I wanted to ROCK OUT but it had been assumed (I assume in turn) that it would be classical. I turned out to love my lessons and stuck with them from the age of ten to nineteen, and I only stopped them to go to university. (Sidenote: Mr Burden, you're a fucking legend.) But the assumption hurt.

For the record, I'm sitting within two feet of two guitars: a Fender California series electro-acoustic slice of gorgeousness and a gold copy-Strat. There's a bass (Fender jazz copy.) (rarely played) sitting in my spare room.

So anyway, I've been dealing with this shit for twenty years and it still stings. I wouldn't be writing this if Adam's remark didn't hurt a little. How can I explain without seeming like An Irrational Female or A Bitch? I can practically hear the TVTropes names forming. How can I adequately explain the shredding of my heart every time some ignorant tossmonkey suggests that the only reason I could ever love music is because I fancy the musician? My God, it still hurts, every single time, and partly on behalf of the musicians in question. What an insult it is to them to suggest that I could only love them for their face and body? (There is an argument to be made that Robert Plant asked for it).

I suppose it couldn't possibly be because of the music, could it? Or them as humans for being charismatic or intelligent, or funny? It couldn't be because of a MONSTER RIFF or a STONKING BASSLINE or a PROFOUND LYRIC? God, the mere idea of loving the Beatles for the music! Why didn't I think of that before? Whyever would I like Led Zeppelin for Jimmy's fourteen track guitar solos or for Bonzo's extended Moby Dick drum solo? (for the record: I actually love the version of Moby Dick that's in The Song Remains The Same).

I couldn't possibly like Rory Gallagher for his mad guitar skills, could I? Or his often excellent songwriting? There are a couple of his songs that are such excellent examples of their type that I assumed they were covers. 'Goin' To My Hometown' is a particularly excellent example. It couldn't possibly be because he brought an Irish lyricality to the blues and a deep authentic feeling that I have never once believed from Eric Clapton, could it? It couldn't be his dedication to the music, or the simple-but-effective live shows? No, I must fancy him.

A far more stinging and accurate mockery would've been to suggest I only like him for being Irish. It'd be more accurate than 'oooooh, you lurrrrrrve him!' but it'd still be wrong.

Why are women still barred from being considered 'proper' fans of anything? Why are we still having our motives questioned? Are we still tagged as groupies, no matter what we do? Are we all supposed to be crazy fangirls, as if my love of rock music is the same as a tinhat Supernatural fan's love of J2? Even if it is, what would be wrong with that? A guy can own thousands of records and be a fan, a girl could own the same and be tagged as a crazy fangirl.

I appreciate that the screaming girls since the Bobbysoxers have not helped the cause. However, you don't know what it was they loved, and not all fangirls are the same. Twihards right now are not helping, but it's possible - just possible - that they love the books above loving Robert Pattinson. Have you even asked?

Oh hey, Fact Fans! For all the crazy fangirls that clutter the internet and the world, it was a white man who killed John Lennon. To extend this further, a white man killed Jim Morrison, when you think about it.

I sit opposite a rock fan called Phil at work. We routinely drive everyone else mad by bickering, for one thing, and for droning about rock music for another. We also quote A Hard Day's Night and Help! at each other for a good portion of any given day. Swine flu has been particularly good for this: He's a swiiiiiiine. Phil can speak at length about the differences between the stereo and mono mixes of the Beatles records and on Friday spent some time waxing truly lyrical about the new remaster of Abbey Road. He is almost as much of a fan of several other bands. He dislikes my ironic love of Xanadu because that's when he finally gave up on ELO. He's seen Clapton tons of times. I don't believe he's ever been accused of being in love with any of the bands he likes.

Go over to YouTube and read the comments on Rory Gallagher videos:

Do please pardon my language.But Goddamn fuckin amazing ... 5:49 ... with the bass ... and the ... the ... oh god i love it .....  by someone called Brianlovesiobhan on the video above.

ah for feck sake!!!!!!! that was just unreal. Vids of Rory blow me away everytime! thanks a million for sharing! from someone called MonkeyMan198599, video and comment linked in quote.

Now, I can't be sure that these people (there are hundreds of similarly adoring comments on most of RG's videos, but I'm not going to spam you with them now) are men... but I can surmise it. I suppose that they too must fancy Rory? Or am I to understand that only men can be obsessive about music and that women must only be obsessive about musicians?

It's entirely possible for a woman to fall in love with a rock and roll musician. It's just as possible for her not to. It's actually a pretty complex set of emotions for me, so for someone to reduce it to do you just fancy him is infuriating. Even if I did explain, I don't think most people would be interested, which is fair enough, but don't reduce it to the lowest common denominator. I've sat for hours watching old concerts for these people, I've lost days of my life to listening to their records. I'm poor because of them. I've travelled the globe for them, I've stood at their graves. I've danced around the living room alone at 2 o'clock in the morning because of a funky song. I've read books. I've written dissertations and blog posts. I've laughed and I've cried. I've watched great documentaries and shit documentaries. I've defended and attacked them. I've fought their corners. I've sung their songs on stages. I've written songs about them. I've done all this because of the music.

To quote briefly from a long-ago post I made that was nominally about the Phantom of the Opera but was actually about Jim and Me:

It is a handy little extra that Jim Morrison is Adonis. It makes putting pictures of him up on the wall a genuine pleasure. It's always nice to have beautiful things to look at. But you don't get pictures when you're listening to a record. When it's just you and the vinyl, the only thing he has to win you over completely is his voice singing his words. No pout, no smirk or smoulder or trousers. There's none of the slumping onto microphones or falling into a heap. Only a voice.

Would I love Jim Morrison if he were ugly? I don’t think I’ve ever actually had a choice in the matter.

Note the phrase 'would I love' rather than 'would I be in love with'. To me, they're not the same thing. In fact, I believe I use the word 'love' as shorthand a lot of the time, because everyone understands love but they don't necessarily understand the rock fan - musician relationship. 'Love' is an easy way of avoiding exactly what I mean.

To quote briefly from a post I made in July 2007:

Without music I'd be dead. Or at least very, terribly hollow and dead inside. I might still live and breathe, but who would I be? I talk music most of the time, I think music even more. The only things that distract me from music are writing, movies and myself. That's it. There's nothing else.

I'm not saying you can't crush on musicians, can't be in love with them... it's just that it's not why a lot of us women love the music first and foremost and above everything else. To suggest that I could only love the music because of the man makes my stomach twist itself inside out because I love the music so much for itself. Yet, it's hard often to explain adequately how or why a piece of music is so important... but it's relatively easy to talk about people. I have talked about how I love Jim Morrison or any of the others - but it's not a crush. It's not romantic and never was. It was a depth of affection for someone who gave me that music. If Jim hadn't written those songs, I wouldn't give a flying rat's arse about him in or out of a shirt. I love the music, so I love them for the music. That doesn't give them a free pass to make shit music and it doesn't mean that I sit here daydreaming about them.

Wouldn't that be a waste of fucking time in my case, given that most of the bastards are dead?

I don't want to fuck or marry these people. I want to see them live in concert. When I hear the music I love, I feel alive. I feel like there's meaning to the world. I feel like there's wonder and brilliance in the world. I feel like I could fly. My heart soars or dips depending on the song. I get songs stuck in my head. Some songs make my blood run hot, some turn my blood cold. Some songs make me want to die. Others make me want to live. That makes you and me and all the other rock fans pretty much the same, whether we have a cock or a cunt, something else or none of the above. Amazing, right?

I'm going to leave you with a few choice quotes that, depending on your point of view, should leave you squirming and uncomfortable or punching the air triumphantly, mostly from women in music, because the only real difference between the person on stage and the person in the audience is what side of the security guard they can see.

People don't want to see women doing things they don't think women should do. Joan Jett

Girls have got balls. They're just a little higher up that's all. Joan Jett.

Aggressive, tough and defiant may describe me, but that leaves the impression I'm mean and I'm not. Joan Jett, again.

I figured out it was a social thing, what women were allowed to do. At a very young age, I decided I was not going to follow women's rules.  Joan Jett, once more. Has she had to spend her entire career explaining and defending her choice? (answer: Yes).

As far as I'm concerned, being any gender is a drag. Patti Smith.

No, my work does not reflect my sexual preferences, it reflects the fact that I feel total freedom as an artist.  Patti Smith.

On stage I make love to twenty five thousand people; and then I go home alone.  Janis Joplin

Some nights I look out and want to fuck the whole front row. Robert Plant

The so-called feminist writers were disgusted with me. I did my thing, and so I guess by feminist standards I'm a feminist. That suits me fine.  Chrissie Hynde

I dig music. The fictional musician Russell Hammond in Almost Famous, a film which didn't help the girl-fan (not fangirl) cause but was otherwise OK.

and a final word from one of our sponsors:

You know, people can't fall in love with me just because I'm good at what I do. Robert Plant, 1977 (I'd be interested in the context of this quote if anyone has it).
apolla: (OTP)
I must've heard the song 'In My Life' hundreds of times, on CD, records, my iPod, radio, TV, movies, the Anthology series... I've always loved it: John's voice is as good as it ever was: firm without being overpowering and softened by Thumbs-Up's backing. I've never loved the instrumental bit because it's a bit too baroque (and played half-speed on a piano and sped back up, rather than actually being a harpsichord, fact fans), but I like it well enough.

I'd easily put 'In My Life' in my Top 5 Songs by the Beatles, which also slides it into the very upper tier of my favourite songs by anybody ever. It's been my intention to have it as a part of my funeral since I started planning said event when I was about sixteen or seventeen (a decision only partly doubtful now having learned it was used at Cobain's). It's a song that means a massive amount to me for various reasons, one of which is that himself was murdered. It's one of those songs that makes my eyes burn with unshed tears of grief for someone. Bohemian Rhapsody is the same for Mercury, True Love Ways for Buddy, Feast of Friends for Jim, Brainwashed for George. It's the lightning rod so that I can listen to everything else that the Toppermost did without being consumed by the desolate lamentation of the Unknown Fan.

I was listening to my iPod on shuffle as I walked home yesterday. I couldn't settle on anything and none of the usual suspects was working: the Wilburys weren't making me smile, Rory wasn't distracting me and so on. I must've flicked through fifty songs with the impatient disdain I so often exhibit on days like these, until 'In My Life' came on. I can't imagine I've managed to dismiss this song very often and I couldn't yesterday. I sang along, of course, like I always do, earning scowls from people talking on their phones as they walk.

Funnily enough, only the day before that I'd listened to a clip of Johnny Cash singing it on The Man Comes Around. I dismissed it not because it was bad (it isn't) or misses the point (it doesn't, though most covers seem to, to me), but simply because it wasn't them. Him, really. There are some songs by the Beatles that - right or wrong - I associate with only one of them, and this is his, not theirs like 'Fool on the Hill' is Paul's and 'Something' is George's. Incidentally, 'In My Life' is on Rubber Soul, which I happen to think is the record on which they sound the best as a group and not just a bunch of blokes in the same room.

An aside: I haven't actually put much of the Beatles on my iPod yet. I don't even have Revolver on there yet and I don't have all of Abbey Road. Huh.

Anyway, this isn't about the minutiae of my music device, it's about 'In My Life'. It means all sorts of things to me and mostly to me it was always a song about the people and places we lose. As a fan of The Doors, Thin Lizzy and the rest, I always felt like I'd lost a bunch of people I'd never even been able to know so consequently (and breathtakingly arrogantly) I took the song and made it my own and all about me and the things and people I'd lost. That I never had them in the beginning was just part of the melancholy attitude. It was about people and places I had known, loved and then lost and for the people I was too late for.It was about the childhood I mourned most bitterly and the people and places I'd lost in the process of being forced to grow up, forced to leave people and places I didn't want to leave. It was probably for the little girl I lost and the grown up she therefore didn't become.

Listening to it yesterday, something shifted. I couldn't tell you honestly that I was happy (I wasn't) or contented (never), just that I thought about it from a slightly different angle, one that I knew was there and just hadn't really thought too much about before.

It isn't about the people and places lost, it's about the person we love enough to be willing to consign those things to the past where they probably belong. This I knew already. What I really thought about yesterday was this: there may be someone in the world who will render this song true for me. One day I might well be willing to brush aside the everlasting boys for someone and I will know it because of this song. 'In My Life' is what makes me understand that I'm not really some heartless creature unable to love but it also confirms that there really is a high standard in place. This is the litmus paper test I've created for myself and I don't think it can be dismissed. Imagine all that from one song...

For me now, 'In My Life' is about the dead and the gone. It's about a little boy who was, for awhile, the other side of the coin, it's about an old man with magic in his smile, it's about wild loves, silver foxes, the beautiful, the magnificent and the wondrous. It's about Panshanger, California, the Old Town, the street where I live and a time disappeared that I cannot retrieve.

One day, it might be something else: an absolute declaration of love so deep that it casts aside all the above. Maybe.
apolla: (OTP)
I must've heard the song 'In My Life' hundreds of times, on CD, records, my iPod, radio, TV, movies, the Anthology series... I've always loved it: John's voice is as good as it ever was: firm without being overpowering and softened by Thumbs-Up's backing. I've never loved the instrumental bit because it's a bit too baroque (and played half-speed on a piano and sped back up, rather than actually being a harpsichord, fact fans), but I like it well enough.

I'd easily put 'In My Life' in my Top 5 Songs by the Beatles, which also slides it into the very upper tier of my favourite songs by anybody ever. It's been my intention to have it as a part of my funeral since I started planning said event when I was about sixteen or seventeen (a decision only partly doubtful now having learned it was used at Cobain's). It's a song that means a massive amount to me for various reasons, one of which is that himself was murdered. It's one of those songs that makes my eyes burn with unshed tears of grief for someone. Bohemian Rhapsody is the same for Mercury, True Love Ways for Buddy, Feast of Friends for Jim, Brainwashed for George. It's the lightning rod so that I can listen to everything else that the Toppermost did without being consumed by the desolate lamentation of the Unknown Fan.

I was listening to my iPod on shuffle as I walked home yesterday. I couldn't settle on anything and none of the usual suspects was working: the Wilburys weren't making me smile, Rory wasn't distracting me and so on. I must've flicked through fifty songs with the impatient disdain I so often exhibit on days like these, until 'In My Life' came on. I can't imagine I've managed to dismiss this song very often and I couldn't yesterday. I sang along, of course, like I always do, earning scowls from people talking on their phones as they walk.

Funnily enough, only the day before that I'd listened to a clip of Johnny Cash singing it on The Man Comes Around. I dismissed it not because it was bad (it isn't) or misses the point (it doesn't, though most covers seem to, to me), but simply because it wasn't them. Him, really. There are some songs by the Beatles that - right or wrong - I associate with only one of them, and this is his, not theirs like 'Fool on the Hill' is Paul's and 'Something' is George's. Incidentally, 'In My Life' is on Rubber Soul, which I happen to think is the record on which they sound the best as a group and not just a bunch of blokes in the same room.

An aside: I haven't actually put much of the Beatles on my iPod yet. I don't even have Revolver on there yet and I don't have all of Abbey Road. Huh.

Anyway, this isn't about the minutiae of my music device, it's about 'In My Life'. It means all sorts of things to me and mostly to me it was always a song about the people and places we lose. As a fan of The Doors, Thin Lizzy and the rest, I always felt like I'd lost a bunch of people I'd never even been able to know so consequently (and breathtakingly arrogantly) I took the song and made it my own and all about me and the things and people I'd lost. That I never had them in the beginning was just part of the melancholy attitude. It was about people and places I had known, loved and then lost and for the people I was too late for.It was about the childhood I mourned most bitterly and the people and places I'd lost in the process of being forced to grow up, forced to leave people and places I didn't want to leave. It was probably for the little girl I lost and the grown up she therefore didn't become.

Listening to it yesterday, something shifted. I couldn't tell you honestly that I was happy (I wasn't) or contented (never), just that I thought about it from a slightly different angle, one that I knew was there and just hadn't really thought too much about before.

It isn't about the people and places lost, it's about the person we love enough to be willing to consign those things to the past where they probably belong. This I knew already. What I really thought about yesterday was this: there may be someone in the world who will render this song true for me. One day I might well be willing to brush aside the everlasting boys for someone and I will know it because of this song. 'In My Life' is what makes me understand that I'm not really some heartless creature unable to love but it also confirms that there really is a high standard in place. This is the litmus paper test I've created for myself and I don't think it can be dismissed. Imagine all that from one song...

For me now, 'In My Life' is about the dead and the gone. It's about a little boy who was, for awhile, the other side of the coin, it's about an old man with magic in his smile, it's about wild loves, silver foxes, the beautiful, the magnificent and the wondrous. It's about Panshanger, California, the Old Town, the street where I live and a time disappeared that I cannot retrieve.

One day, it might be something else: an absolute declaration of love so deep that it casts aside all the above. Maybe.
apolla: (OTP)
Heather Mills really will do anything, won't she? Even if her accusations (including that Paul beat Linda) are true... wouldn't it have been best to keep it in the courtroom and not everywhere else?

Still, he wouldn't be the only Beatle to have suffered from a giant ego or beaten his wife. He has taken all manner of drugs and quite openly said so. He does drink, sometimes to excess. He does surround himself with people too willing to do exactly what he wants. Still, I find it hard to believe his children would adore him so much if he'd beaten their mother. I don't know. I hope that it's all false- I'd rather believe her a mental fantasist than reconcile myself to another of my heroes being a total cunt. Mind you, he'd be in populous company.

Anyway, I scribbled this a few weeks ago and thought I'd share it with you:



apolla: (OTP)
Heather Mills really will do anything, won't she? Even if her accusations (including that Paul beat Linda) are true... wouldn't it have been best to keep it in the courtroom and not everywhere else?

Still, he wouldn't be the only Beatle to have suffered from a giant ego or beaten his wife. He has taken all manner of drugs and quite openly said so. He does drink, sometimes to excess. He does surround himself with people too willing to do exactly what he wants. Still, I find it hard to believe his children would adore him so much if he'd beaten their mother. I don't know. I hope that it's all false- I'd rather believe her a mental fantasist than reconcile myself to another of my heroes being a total cunt. Mind you, he'd be in populous company.

Anyway, I scribbled this a few weeks ago and thought I'd share it with you:



apolla: (Rock Chick)

I've said it before and I know I'll say it again: I'd love to love Paul McCartney. I'd love to worship the very ground upon which he places his no-doubt gold-plated feet, but he makes it so hard.

I've said for many years now, being the sort that cares, that Paul is coolest when he's absolutely not trying to be cool. When he is trying (which is most of the time), he comes across as a desperate, middle-aged man with a terrible dye job who is intent on making us all think he's the coolest man who ever lived.

And we all know the coolest man who ever lived was Dean Martin.

Seriously, man! What is The Mac's problem? We've done so much for him. We tolerated Wings. Hell, some of us even LIKED Wings! We accepted Linda (only eventually, in some cases) because it was clear she was a Cool Chick who he adored. Couldn't play keyboards really, but she was cool nonetheless, and I liked the Linda McCartney's Ploughman's Pie before they changed to Definitely No GM Food Here recipies and it tasted foul.

I'm getting off the subject again. Paul McCartney is not an overtly cool man. He has always been too much of An Entertainer. If he had Astaire feet, he would've been a Song and Dance Man. If he'd been born seventy years before he was, he'd have been one of Music Hall's greatest. If he'd have been born in the seventies, he'd either be Robbiefuckingwilliams or Will Young. Only good. Paul McCartney has always been too much of a "Love me, please love me!" kind of man, and that's not a bad thing really. We do love him. But he's not cool like He Who Shall Not Be Named But Got Gunned Down On His Own Doorstep Nearly Twenty Five Years Ago.

Paul McCartney is not cool, but we love him and I so wish he'd understand that and just relax. I wish he could accept the hand he's been dealt. I mean, let's think about this logically:

  1. He's a Beatle. OK, ex-Beatle.
  2. He's the closest thing pop music has to an actual saint (fuck off Bono. Try harder next time)
  3. He's actually a good guy. A hard-nosed businessman when it comes down to it, but a good guy.
  4. If he had any more money, he'd have to buy that big vault Scrooge McDuck had in Duck Tales just to hold it all.
  5. He's an ex-Beatle.
  6. He's an ex-Beatle that wasn't gunned down or stabbed.
  7. He got knighted before it became de rigeur to have a pop star in the list each time and Mick Jagger proved what a farcical concept giving these things to rock stars is.
  8. He is, let's face it, one of the greatest composers ever to have bothered spanking a piano or strumming a guitar.

So, you're Paul McCartney. You have these Eight Fabulous Things in your life. Are you happy? Are you buggery.

I've got so caught up in ranting about Paul (who, don't get me wrong, I do love) that I've forgotten to mention the inspiration for today's festival of Maccabashing. Maccachiding, really.

Paul says George helped him write his new song.

The album the song is on isn't even out until September. He likes to get his publicity machine in gear early, I guess.

Don't get me wrong, I have little doubt that Paul was devastated by George's death. These guys were friends. Friends. Only friends who care about each other snipe like they did back in the day so memorably during Let It Be. I don't know that we could go so far as to call them brothers, but they were comrades-in-arms, the only ones who knew what it was like to be the others. Beatles-in-arms, I guess. If George's death destroyed me, as it felt like it did, I can only imagine it did something far worse to Paul.

If George did help Paul write the song (and the lyrics mentioned in the article do sound very Harrisonian), then that's fucking fantastic. Whether it's really George, helping from On High, or the shadow of a memory of George in Paul's own mind, it doesn't matter. I can't wait to hear the song now personally- I was always more a George girl than a Paul one.

But does this have to be turned around and twisted into news? Does it have to be used to kick-start the publicity for Another McCartney Moneyspinner. Boy has enough money and enough gold discs. I know he wants to remain popular and thus, relevant, but please.

There are some things you can use to sell your product. Your divorce, your separation, your drug habit, your new, much younger girlfriend/fiancee, someone else's drug habit, your stint in rehab, how you feel now you're clean, etc etc etc...

But please don't use the death of someone you loved to do it. It smacks of desperation and nastiness. I have no doubt that George's death hurt Paul a great deal, but can he not use it to sell records? Can he do it quietly? Because George's death hurt us a great deal too, Paulie, and some of us find it disheartening and distasteful that you'd use it to sell records.

apolla: (Rock Chick)

I've said it before and I know I'll say it again: I'd love to love Paul McCartney. I'd love to worship the very ground upon which he places his no-doubt gold-plated feet, but he makes it so hard.

I've said for many years now, being the sort that cares, that Paul is coolest when he's absolutely not trying to be cool. When he is trying (which is most of the time), he comes across as a desperate, middle-aged man with a terrible dye job who is intent on making us all think he's the coolest man who ever lived.

And we all know the coolest man who ever lived was Dean Martin.

Seriously, man! What is The Mac's problem? We've done so much for him. We tolerated Wings. Hell, some of us even LIKED Wings! We accepted Linda (only eventually, in some cases) because it was clear she was a Cool Chick who he adored. Couldn't play keyboards really, but she was cool nonetheless, and I liked the Linda McCartney's Ploughman's Pie before they changed to Definitely No GM Food Here recipies and it tasted foul.

I'm getting off the subject again. Paul McCartney is not an overtly cool man. He has always been too much of An Entertainer. If he had Astaire feet, he would've been a Song and Dance Man. If he'd been born seventy years before he was, he'd have been one of Music Hall's greatest. If he'd have been born in the seventies, he'd either be Robbiefuckingwilliams or Will Young. Only good. Paul McCartney has always been too much of a "Love me, please love me!" kind of man, and that's not a bad thing really. We do love him. But he's not cool like He Who Shall Not Be Named But Got Gunned Down On His Own Doorstep Nearly Twenty Five Years Ago.

Paul McCartney is not cool, but we love him and I so wish he'd understand that and just relax. I wish he could accept the hand he's been dealt. I mean, let's think about this logically:

  1. He's a Beatle. OK, ex-Beatle.
  2. He's the closest thing pop music has to an actual saint (fuck off Bono. Try harder next time)
  3. He's actually a good guy. A hard-nosed businessman when it comes down to it, but a good guy.
  4. If he had any more money, he'd have to buy that big vault Scrooge McDuck had in Duck Tales just to hold it all.
  5. He's an ex-Beatle.
  6. He's an ex-Beatle that wasn't gunned down or stabbed.
  7. He got knighted before it became de rigeur to have a pop star in the list each time and Mick Jagger proved what a farcical concept giving these things to rock stars is.
  8. He is, let's face it, one of the greatest composers ever to have bothered spanking a piano or strumming a guitar.

So, you're Paul McCartney. You have these Eight Fabulous Things in your life. Are you happy? Are you buggery.

I've got so caught up in ranting about Paul (who, don't get me wrong, I do love) that I've forgotten to mention the inspiration for today's festival of Maccabashing. Maccachiding, really.

Paul says George helped him write his new song.

The album the song is on isn't even out until September. He likes to get his publicity machine in gear early, I guess.

Don't get me wrong, I have little doubt that Paul was devastated by George's death. These guys were friends. Friends. Only friends who care about each other snipe like they did back in the day so memorably during Let It Be. I don't know that we could go so far as to call them brothers, but they were comrades-in-arms, the only ones who knew what it was like to be the others. Beatles-in-arms, I guess. If George's death destroyed me, as it felt like it did, I can only imagine it did something far worse to Paul.

If George did help Paul write the song (and the lyrics mentioned in the article do sound very Harrisonian), then that's fucking fantastic. Whether it's really George, helping from On High, or the shadow of a memory of George in Paul's own mind, it doesn't matter. I can't wait to hear the song now personally- I was always more a George girl than a Paul one.

But does this have to be turned around and twisted into news? Does it have to be used to kick-start the publicity for Another McCartney Moneyspinner. Boy has enough money and enough gold discs. I know he wants to remain popular and thus, relevant, but please.

There are some things you can use to sell your product. Your divorce, your separation, your drug habit, your new, much younger girlfriend/fiancee, someone else's drug habit, your stint in rehab, how you feel now you're clean, etc etc etc...

But please don't use the death of someone you loved to do it. It smacks of desperation and nastiness. I have no doubt that George's death hurt Paul a great deal, but can he not use it to sell records? Can he do it quietly? Because George's death hurt us a great deal too, Paulie, and some of us find it disheartening and distasteful that you'd use it to sell records.

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