Thoughts on A.I. and Being Fifty

 

The job of writing satirical songs and skits is becoming increasingly hard, not least because the world is so bonkers now that you can't really exaggerate it for entertainment. I decided to re-record a couple of my old songs recently with updated lyrics for the modern age and I've put them out on a digital E.P. called 'Trumped.' Check it out on Spotify, YouTube, iTunes or whatever online music conduit you use. Having recorded many albums with my mother in recording studios (as Adam Colton and Teresa Colton), this one is just a 'lo-fi' production, simply because the main emphasis is on lyrics rather than polish (and because it costs so bleeding much!). It was good enough for Woody Guthrie after all...

One of the songs, 'This Song Wasn't Written by A.I.,' although heavily influenced by Bob Dylan, is about a modern issue that worries a lot of people. Creativity is a release of tension and a form of communication for many, in the way that sports can be for others. The fact that creative fields are being handed over to computers seems a particularly mercenary decision to me. Producers and managers no longer have to pay a human to create when they can get a computer to just copy what humans have already done and reconstitute it for a new market. It is surely the most cynical thing the 'fat cats' of this world have ever done – literally turning machines into expressive humans and humans into consuming machines. And all in the name of money, of course.

That said, so far I would quote the trade descriptions act when it comes to 'A.I.' Unlike in Kubrick and Spielberg's excellent film of the same name, what we call 'A.I.' isn't a sentient entity capable of it's own thoughts but really a very advanced search engine that simply scours the Internet for information / misinformation and presents it in the way that a human would present it (coherent but flawed). Somebody demonstrated it to me by instructing it to 'write a book in the style of Adam Colton.' The 'A.I.' then scours the Internet for things I have actually written and approximates the style and content. Personally I wasn't convinced, although my mum said that it was indeed the kind of thing that I write. Well, they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery...

I went to watch the film 'No Direction Home' at the local cinema a while back. The film presented the early life of Bob Dylan in a slightly fictionalised way. It is certainly not a glamorised perspective of him, whereas I found the musical 'Sunny Afternoon' to present a much more affable version of Ray Davies than I encountered in Johnny Rogan's biography 'A Complicated Life.' What the lyrics of both songwriters have in common though, along with Pink Floyd's Roger Waters in particular, is a desire for fairness, which is increasingly seen as a lefty tree-hugging minority view.

I realise that my own views and lyrics are somewhat to the left of the majority of local people down here in the Garden of England (Kent), but thankfully free speech still exists. I find the shift towards money as an end rather than a means to be a worrying one, with Trump as its ultimate representative. As children back in the eighties we were taught that we would have much more leisure time in the future because computers would be doing all the mundane tasks, but now humans get to do the mundane tasks while computers create. What the technological Utopian dream didn't account for was the fact that the owners of the technology are generally unwilling to share the benefits. If half the work can be done by computers, they are not going to keep all staff on the same pay doing half the work, even though their own profits would be exactly the same. Instead, half the workforce will be laid off. And meanwhile, it's very convenient for the elite to get everybody blaming each other for the problem. Down in this southeast corner of Britain politicians have cleverly channelled everybody's anger in the direction of er... the Channel. Meanwhile, the elite and bankers can laugh all the way to the...

OK, enough puns, but I sincerely hope Britain doesn't continue down the same rabbit hole that gave the world Donald Trump. Time will tell...

Next month I reach the grand age of fifty. I've had a go at marriage and two attempts at being a 'townie' but like a boomerang, here I am back in the village where I grew up, living the single life again (lots of cycling and walking with the odd pub visit thrown in). Although I was always writing stories as a child, my first published piece was written when I was seventeen - an account of a five-day cycling trip for the local parish magazine. It was when I was 28 that I finally got a book into print, realising a childhood dream as a collaboration with my father who sadly now has Alzheimer's. The content hasn't changed greatly as you can tell, although I've ventured into other genres, such as psychological fiction and music reviews. I wonder if I'll still be writing my travelling tales in another 33 years time. Or will A.I. will be writing imaginary trips for me with imaginary meetings with imaginary characters? I think that's called a novel. Please check mine out on Amazon before my digital clone takes over. Toodle-pip!

Thoughts on the Lyrics of Limerance

"I think love lyrics have contributed to the general aura of bad mental health in America" 

- Frank Zappa

It will soon be February 14th. For a long time I used to refer to this as Singles Awareness Day, and I even wrote a song about the way that single people can feel overlooked or portrayed negatively, as though only one lifestyle is valued by Western society. You only have to turn on the TV to see adverts, programmes and films that all tap into the 'one size fits all' philosophy. The reason for this is perhaps obvious in evolutionary terms. A lifestyle that generally results in the propagation of human population is going to be seen as 'desirable,' although with the number of humans increasing exponentially out of pace with resources on a finite planet, it may be time for society to enter a new paradigm.

Then I had a period where February 14th didn't really bother me at all. My girlfriend (who later became my wife) and I exchanged cards but we weren't always together on this particular day. We had plenty of chances to catch up all year round after all. That said, it was always nice to go out for a meal, although we didn't actually need an excuse to do this.

Now, things have changed again and my thoughts on the 45th day of each year are perhaps different once more. I now think of this as the Festival of Limerence, because if you think about it, it's not really for couples who are already together and secure, but more about declaring interest in the early days of uncertainty - cards signed with a question mark and all that mystery and intrigue. I feel that I should apologise at this point for one incident around thirty years ago when I was at school where I was embarrassed to receive a card from a girl I wasn't attracted to, tearing the card up, which in hindsight was horrible, but as a young teenager who had yet to experience such emotions I guess I had yet to fully develop skills of empathy. It was poetic justice that I didn't receive a card from anybody for many years after this!

It recently struck me that much of what society thinks of as romance is really 'limerence,' a term coined by Dorothy Tennov in 1979 who postulated the kind of intense romantic infatuation that is often considered 'romantic' is a very different beast to familial love and other uses of the other L-word.

Let's look at some love songs that might just be limerence songs.

The first ditty that springs to mind is Robert Palmer's 1986 hit, 'Addicted to Love,' which pretty much compares the romantic experience to that of drug use; 'Your mind is not your own.' One of my favourite songwriters is Bob Dylan and albums such as 'Time out of Mind' (1997) are littered with expressions of unconsummated frustration. He sings about being 'sick of love' and 'in the thick of it,' and exclaims 'You have no idea what you do to me' and [it feels] 'like the universe has swallowed me whole.' If you rewind to the 1976 track 'Isis,' he sings 'What drives me to you is what drives me insane.'

Leonard Cohen was another master of seemingly limerent lyrics, in songs like 'There Ain't No Cure For Love' (1988), once again equating the experience with that of being ill, and in the 1971 song 'Avalanche' he sings 'I stepped into an avalanche, it covered up my soul.'

Often lyrics simply glory in the sheer misery of it, as though there is some apparent virtue in feeling like a sack of effluent! However, one song that really doesn't glorify the feeling is Barry Ryan's 1968 classic 'Eloise,' with lyrics like 'And only time will tell, and take away this lonely hell.' Then there's the Temptations' 1971 hit 'Just My Imagination (Running Away With Me),' which leads the listener to believe that the vocalist is blissfully happy before declaring that it's all just fantasy. Another song that smacks of limerence is John Lennon's 'Abbey Road' composition for the Beatles, 'I Want You (She's So Heavy)' where he repeats the line 'I want you so bad, it's driving me mad' throughout the song and the band attempts to represent the heaviness of the feeling musically with the endlessly circling coda.

Taking all of this to its logical conclusion, could we infer that a greater percentage of creative and artistic people experience limerence, rather than the ordinary more controlled form of romantic feelings? Or to turn it around, is it this profoundly unpleasant and obsessive experience that prompts the person to release some of the tension creatively?

Food for thought. So what actually is it?

The fascinating book 'Living with Limerence' by the mysteriously named 'Doctor L,' postulates that three factors must be present for limerence to occur. These are an initial sign of hope followed by sufficient ongoing fuel for this hope to survive and a level of uncertainty. I am of the opinion that much of our romantic fiction is entirely based around this concept. It's not a love story if a couple merely meet, start dating, mutually agree upon a relationship and end up getting married (or whatever substitutes as the ultimate fulfilment in modern societies). There has to be a certain level of impossibility. For example, one or both partners could be in another relationship, or there could be geographical or socio-economic barriers ('Romeo and Juliet,' anyone?). If the limerence is expressed and the result is positive it could be passed off as romantic comedy, with all the frustrations seeming comedic in the light of the happy ending. If the limerence does not produce the desired effect the story will be more tragic, as well as being the source for a million love songs (Barry Manilow / Take That pun intended).

The point about uncertainty is particularly interesting. Professor Robert Sapolsky in one of his many fascinating YouTube lectures demonstrates how a perceived 50% chance of an action resulting in success produces the maximum amount of dopamine in anticipation of the desired result. Both a 25% chance and a 75% chance result in less dopamine. I would postulate that with relationships the brain views the 'yes / no' nature of a potential partner as a 50/50 chance even if it is not. Thus, the dopamine goes through the roof and one can be stuck in a state of limerence.

It is also postulated that the experience is a kind of sticking plaster over deeper issues, such as lack of fulfilment, being the brain's way of creating its own excitement when things are not quite right at a more profound level. For example, it is commonly assumed that John Lennon's extreme emotions for Yoko Ono were a result of losing his mother at a young age.

Returning to art and literature, it does seem that a huge proportion of such creativity stems from this experience that the majority will fortunately never have, in spite of idealising its themes. I guess it is some consolation to turn such unpleasantness into something that is, on the whole, appreciated. Take the novel 'Love in the Time of Cholera' by Gabriel Garcia Marquez for example, where a man simply pines away his whole life for a woman who he eventually pairs up with in old age. In truth, that's not romantic, that's just disturbing, and thankfully our brains agree. Generally periods of limerence have a shelf-life that can be measured in months and at most a few years. And the more generally experienced non-limerent form of passion is not so different either in its lack of longevity. And this is down to our old friend, evolution.

If a couple could be completely obsessed with one another for life, you can see how any potential children might be neglected. The parents would be too wrapped up in one another to fully concentrate on the needs of the child. However, literature and films rarely depict the period after the wedding when passions die down, but die down they must, because that's how it was for our ancestors. In other words, the children that survived had the parents that cooled off after the usual time it takes to produce offspring, and thus these traits were passed on.

Returning to limerence, it is perhaps a perfect example of something called ambiguous grief. When a person dies, the death is final and once grief has been experienced those left behind can recover, but a limerent has to deal with an ambiguity where they can both imagine a life alone and a life where the potential partner becomes an actual partner. And one thing human brains can't stand is duality. And with all that dopamine sloshing around (among other hormonal changes), it is a chemical addiction just like heroin or cigarettes! It seems that Robert Palmer wasn't so far off the mark after all.

[Adam Colton is the author of numerous psychological fiction books as well as '2021: A Musical Odyssey,' which reviews classic rock albums.]

Adam's Music Reviews #7 - Alternative Christmas Songs

It's December and the airwaves are awash with Slade, Wizard, etc. In fact I only need to name the artists and you'll know exactly what songs I'm referring to. Nice as many of these tracks are, this a blog for those who fancy a festive change from the norm. Scouring my music collection I've tried to find all the Christmas songs that you won't hear played on the radio. Let's begin, as all music lists should, with the Beatles.

The Beatles – Christmas Time Is Here Again (1967 / 1995)

This was just a recurring jingle on one of the group's annual Christmas discs for fans, but it was nicely edited into a full-length track as a B-side on the 'Free As A Bird' single released in 1995. The lyrics are somewhat minimalist and Paul McCartney would revive the 'O-U-T spells out' motif on his 2013 track 'Queenie Eye.' I wonder if there was a wry comment on the 'bigger than Jesus' furore in the line 'Been around since you know when...' Who knows. The track ends with John Lennon putting on his best Scottish accent for an atmospheric little bit of nonsense.

The Sensational Alex Harvey Band – There's No Lights On The Christmas Tree, Mother... (1972)

...They're Burning Big Louie Tonight. That's the punchline folks. Yes, this is a Christmassy tale about a man being arrested and sentenced to death by electric chair, consequently shorting out the electricity and prompting the singer to observe that the Christmas tree lights are off. Alex Harvey was a distinctive performer from Scotland with a superb bunch of musicians, often employing risque lyrics, but occasionally there was a moral message, such as regarding protecting the environment. Any DJ willing to play this gets a Victoria Cross for bravery.

Wings – Rudolph the Red Nosed Reggae (1979)

This one's safe. It's a quirky instrumental rendition of the traditional favourite, which appears as a bonus track on the album 'Back To The Egg.' Harmless fun which started off as the B-side to the much more often played 'Wonderful Christmastime.'

Paul Simon – Getting Ready For Christmas Day (2011)

The opening track to Paul Simon's album 'So Beautiful Or So What?' An unusual rhythmic track with something resembling gospel chanting in the background. Paul Simon was no stranger to Christmas songs, especially when teamed up with Art Garfunkel. Guess who's next...

Simon and Garfunkel – 7 O'Clock News / Silent Night (1966)

The duo sing the traditional favourite with just a piano accompaniment as reality breaks in in the form of a particularly nasty edition of the 7 o'clock news. The juxtaposition seems to say something about the essentially fantastical nature of believing in peace on earth for a single day of the year. It's the only Christmas song I know with brutal murders in it. Simon and Garfunkel did record the odd Christmas song straight however, such as Star Carol, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen and Go, Tell It On The Mountain. All are worth checking out.

The Who – Christmas (1969)

Another dark Christmas song. This one was part of The Who's rock opera, Tommy, contrasting the Christmas that most children have with the severely limited experience that the deaf, dumb and blind central character has. 'How can he be saved, from the eternal grave?' Harsh stuff, hey?

Chas & Dave - Long, Long Ago (1986)

Just when you're thinking 'Where's the warm Christmassy glow in this lot?' along come Chas & Dave to fill the void. I remember my sister coming home from primary school having learned this as a carol. The teachers must have been pretty quick off the mark to have snapped this yuletide classic up at the time. The Cockney lads eulogise 'Winds through the olive trees softly did blow' while accompanied by a brass band. The B-side of Silent Night is also very nice and there's no seven o'clock news this time! It just goes to show that the pair of Londoners could be serious, although this is as rare as Christmas in February. talking of which...

Lou Reed – Xmas In February (1989)

Venturing across to the dark side again, this one is from Lou Reed's album New York, essentially about the lack of work prospects making army life seem appealing, and the consequent rescheduling of Christmas when you're busy with the 'kill or be killed' stuff on December 25^th.

Roy Orbison – Pretty Paper (1963)

Roy Orbison is in country mode while exploring the often visited theme of being lonely at Christmas. The song seems to reference homelessness in the second verse, so it could even be a socially conscious Christmas song. Right, wipe that tear away, we're going 'punk' next.

Eels – Everything's Gonna Be Cool This Christmas (1998)

The B-side to the wonderfully festive 'Cancer For The Cure' is actually a fairly straight Christmas song in a slightly 'punk' style. 'Baby Jesus, born to rock.' Er... enough said!

Monty Python – Christmas In Heaven (1983)

Of course it's not serious! This was the musical finale to the comedy group's film 'The Meaning Of Life.' Really it seemed to be satirising the stereotypical 'American' idea of what both Christmas and Heaven should be like.

Joni Mitchell - River (1971)

This occasionally gets a play on BBC Radio 2 but I'm including it as it isn't as well known as it should be. It opens with the notes of Jingle Bells on the piano in an uncharacteristically melancholy fashion before Joni begins the sad tale which is a similar theme to Pretty Paper, being that of the bustle of Christmas going on around a lonely person who wants it all to just go away.

Eric Bogle – Santa Bloody Claus (1993)

Another satirical one. Eric Bogle is a writer of poignant folk songs, but he occasionally lets his hair down with a number like this. It's a little bit rude and I'm not sure if he was trying to compete with Kevin Bloody Wilson here, in which case Mr Bogle's song will seem positively tame.

Bob Dylan – Must Be Santa (2009)

This is a bit of a cheat as it actually does get regular airplay at Christmas on BBC Radio 2, but the sheer brilliance of Bob Dylan doing a traditional Christmas album with a voice that has been completely ravaged has to be lauded. This is perhaps the standout track on 'Christmas In The Heart' but in this house the entire CD gets a spin every Christmas. Bob makes this Christmas favourite his own by listing the names of recent USA presidents among the reindeer. Was he being subversive? Oh, I do hope so!

Pink Floyd – Roger's Boogie (1968 / 2016)

A track that lay in the vault until the release of the band's megalithic box set 'The Early Years.' This is clearly an attempt at a Christmas song with a lyric about Gabriel coming to the stable, and even in the 'anything goes' psychedelic era that it was recorded, I would still say that it's something of an oddity in the Floydian catalogue.

Bob Dylan – Winterlude (1970)

Not a Christmas song per se, but every bit as seasonal as 'Baby, It's Cold Outside,' 'The Power Of Love' and 'Stay Another Day.' Here the legend that is Robert Allen Zimmerman uses the good old fashioned theme of engaging in romantic pursuits while the weather outside is frightful.

Adam Colton & Teresa Colton - Make A Fat Cat Fatter This Christmas (2015)

'Who?' Come on, this should be a Christmas number one! We're a mother and son folk duo and this is a satirical song about Christmas commercialisation. Legendary DJ Dave Cash gave it a spin on BBC Radio Kent and so should you. And just in case you think we're being too irreverent my mother's two self-penned carols 'Shepherd Boy Carol' and 'Whisper In The Wind' should prove otherwise. All are on the album Mixed Messages.

So now the bit you've waited for - if you want to listen to them here's the playlist. Bob Dylan's record company seem to want to hide 'Winterlude' so the list is one track down. As the onion seller always says, that's shallot!

STOP PRESS: The musical musings and humour continue in '2021: A Musical Odyssey' - now available in digital and paperback formats.

Adam's Music Reviews #5 (Nov 2020)

This particular post is being written while my home county of Kent has been plunged into 'tier three' coronavirus restrictions (basically a lockdown under another name). Cue the puns – it'll all end in tiers, three is the tragic number, etc. I was thinking what it must mean to be a hedonist in this situation – do you go all-out and make a cup of tea, or have a bit of a kip, or look out of the window, or really go to town and get a biscuit from the kitchen cupboard? It's life, but not as we know it!

Anyway, while sitting on the sofa drinking a glass of wine and listening to Pink Floyd I realised that we are at last living the lifestyle proposed by BBC Radio 4's Desert Island Discs programme. Let's face it, it's either that or The Matrix, and the 'desert island' scenario seems much more pleasant than floating in a sac of liquid wired up to a parasitic computer. Yes, we are pretty much on our own with just music for company, so what would one choose? Well, I've done my ultimate Desert Island Discs a couple of times before, so I thought 'How about writing about the albums I have listened to in their entirety over the past fortnight?' Like or not, I'm doing it, so here goes!

John Coltrane – My Favourite Things (1961)

Jazz is a genre I only really got into a couple of years ago. 'Kind of Blue' by Miles Davis featured highly in my book of 'The All-Time Top 1000 Albums' so I thought I'd give it a bash. Since then it has opened up new vistas, although I tend to like the 'cool jazz' era and then skip the post-bop era and pick up again with fusion. If I'm talking a foreign language, it was all Greek to me too until a couple of years ago. Anyway, this is an album for those who like to hear tunes they recognise played in an improvisational way. Coltrane's saxophone playing is superb and occasionally bordering on frenzied and the piano breaks are also pretty amazing.

Tears For Fears – The Hurting (1983)

When I was a child in the eighties I was not a fan of the 'current' bands, despising what I viewed as excessive use of synthesizers and much preferring the 'real instruments' of the sixties. However, with the passing of forty years, the bands of the era seem worth reappraising and this album is a gem. Like U2's 'The Joshua Tree,' the first half of the album is so strong that the second half tends to get passed over. 'Mad World' is a classic, even if you only know the Gary Jules' 'Christmas number one' version, but there are plenty of other angst-ridden atmospheric pieces here including 'The Hurting,' 'Pale Shelter' and 'Ideas as Opiates' which could be an anthem for our age – 'Lies spread on lies, we don't care.' Trump, anybody?

Tears For Fears – Songs From The Big Chair (1984)

Tears for Fears again, yes, but this is an album I've had much longer, initially because 'Shout' was such a good song. The other two hits 'Everybody Wants To Rule The World' and 'Head Over Heels' appeal next, but then one gets into the more ethereal stuff and you realise that Tears for Fears were not really an eighties pop band (like Duran Duran, etc.) but more akin to bands like Pink Floyd in what they were trying to achieve. Talking of which...

Pink Floyd – Wish You Were Here (1975)

Although I have professed 'The Dark Side of the Moon' to be my favourite album in both of my 'Desert Island Discs' blogs, this is the one I tend to go to for instant Floydian gratification. 'Shine On You Crazy Diamond' is a symphony in two halves with some of Dave Gilmour's bluesiest soloing. The keyboard work by Richard Wright reminds me a bit of Procol Harum at times. Every song on the album is an out and out classic. Enough said.

The photograph depicts my visit to Grantchester Meadows in Cambridge, surely the 'Penny Lane' of the Pink Floyd world?

Pink Floyd – Meddle (1971)

OK, I've been having a bit of a Pink Floyd week. There is the side-long epic 'Echoes' (remember 'sides?') and five very pleasant tracks to boot. This is Pink Floyd at the nearest they ever got to 'easy listening,' with 'A Pillow of Winds,' 'Fearless' which has an added surprise for Liverpool fans, the vaudevillian 'San Tropez' and finally 'Seamus where the band let a canine take the vocals. If you don't believe it's a dog watch 'Live in Pompeii.' There's also the Doctor-Who-like 'One Of These Days (I'm going to cut you into little pieces)' – lockdown fever in action! As a footnote, I'm actually sure that I had this album as a 'hand me down' vinyl record as a child, although it was a bit tough for a ten-year-old to appreciate admittedly.

Barclay James Harvest – Barclay James Harvest (1970)

'Who?' I hear you say. Well, in truth BJH were bigger in Germany than in their native England. They were also the only band I know that had their own touring orchestra, as evident on this, their debut album. The album takes in a variety of styles from the rock of 'Taking Some Time On' and 'Good Love Child' to the balladry of 'Mother Dear.' I particularly like the orchestrations and plodding bass of 'When The World Was Woken,' and the the closing track 'Dark Now My Sky' is a symphonic masterpiece. Eccentric, yes, but superb!

Barclay James Harvest – Once Again (1971)

OK, OK, I've had a bit of Barclay James Harvest week too. What do you expect in lockdown - imagination? This was the band's second album and another bona fide classic, although lyrically pretty dark with a slightly unhealthy fixation on shuffling off this mortal coil, 'Happy Old World' being the most obvious example. It always seems a bit excessive to use a mellotron when you have an orchestra, as a mellotron was a keyboard instrument playing recorded loops of orchestra notes, but that's exactly what BJH did here to excellent effect. To break up the drama there is the lighter 'Vanessa Simmons' and the rock blast of 'Ball and Chain.' There's even a Jew's harp on the final track, but the show-stopper is 'Mocking Bird' which builds from a quiet ballad into frenetic rock before exploding into two of the most dramatic orchestral chords you'll ever hear in a rock song. If You like Pink Floyd, you'll like BJH.

Blonde on Blonde – Bob Dylan (1966)

In the 'Desert Island Discs' blogs I cited 'Bringing It All Back Home' as my favourite Bob Dylan album, although in reality it is so hard to choose with so much quality. This one was arguably the first double-album released by a rock act, the other one possibly being Frank Zappa's 'Freak Out.' Either way the contents are terrific, with bluesy tracks such as 'Pledging My Time' and 'Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat' interspersed among folky classics like 'Just Like A Woman.' There's a humorous poke at the Beatles' 'Norwegian Wood' with 'Fourth Time Around,' although in truth the flow of influence was mutual. And finally, 'Say Eyed Lady of the Lowlands' – an eleven-minute epic with Dylan at his most poetic.

Standing on the Shoulder of Giants - Oasis (2000)

This is often viewed as the album where the legend imploded and I was formerly of that opinion. However, a listen twenty years later reveals that we were all wrong. Admittedly, the expletively-titled opening track leaves you wondering what kind of ride you're in for, but the content is actually surprisingly good. 'Go Let It Out' perhaps sums up our feelings in these times, 'Is it any wonder that princes and kings, Are clowns that caper in the sawdust rings?' The album has a darker brooding feel than most Oasis albums and the final track 'Roll It Over' is sublime, but for me the high point it when Noel launches into the guitar solo on 'Sunday Morning Call.'

Tonight -David Bowie (1984)

Certainly not an album that springs to mind as classic Bowie, in fact initially I thought 'What on earth has happened to him?' However repeated listens make it more palatable and you can even overlook the eighties instrumentation. 'Loving the Alien' is actually a very good song, and it's quite novel to hear him having a go at reggae as well as covering a Beach Boys classic, a feat few would attempt. Most of the songs were written by Iggy Pop, but eventually you do appreciate this as much as Let's Dance although 'Ziggy Stardust' it ain't! After this one fast forward to the furious rock of Tin Machine.

Well, that's nine albums that I've played in the last week or so. I could well be back with another set in ten days or so. A few singles I've played a lot in the last week include 'A Forest' by The Cure, David Bowie's 'Absolute Beginners' (make sure you get the full length version) and 'Someday My Prince Will Come' by Miles Davis (available as a nine-minute single track download album if you're not ready for the whole album).

And bearing in mind the kind of music I listen to, if you'd like to see any well-known albums reviewed feel free to post your suggestions in the comments. Keep spinning those decks!

STOP PRESS: The musical musings and humour continue in '2021: A Musical Odyssey' - now available in digital and paperback formats.

The Long Song (Consecutive Longest UK Number Ones And More)

[Updated June 2021]

'The long song' used to be a feature on Simon Mayo's Radio 2 show where he played the tracks that don't get a lot of airplay, at least not in their entirety. Well, I was curious as to what were the longest tracks by my favourite recording artists. It's the kind of thing you occupy your mind with during a coronavirus lockdown and it also combines two of my favourite interests, music and statistics, so what's not to like? Now, all lengths are taken from the particular versions of the CDs / downloads that I have, so no bickering please. Let's start, as any music-based discussion should, with the Beatles.

1) Helter Skelter (White Album Super Deluxe)* 12.54
2) Revolution 1 (White Album Super Deluxe)* 10.29
3) Revolution 9 8.22
4) I Want You (She's So Heavy) 7.47
5) Hey Jude 7.08
6) It's All Too Much 6.28
7) What's The New Mary Jane (Anthology version)* 6.12
8) You Know My Name (Look Up The Number) (Anthology version)* 5.43
9) A Day In The Life 5.34
10) Within You Without You 5.05
11) While My Guitar Gently Weeps 4.45
12) I Am The Walrus 4.37
13) Helter Skelter 4.30
14) Free As A Bird* 4.26
15) Come Together 4.21

The asterisks indicate tracks/versions released after the Beatles career had ended, and apart from the first two I haven't included other White Album 'outtake' tracks, a number of which would feature in the lower half of the list. There are a number of curiosities still in the vault too, such as Carnival Of Light, a sound collage pre-dating Revolution 9, which is said to run in excess of 14 minutes. There is also the legendary 28-minute version of Helter Skelter. When asked why only 12 minutes were released the response was that the track becomes rather boring after a while, which is fair enough I guess. Whilst the Beatles weren't particularly renowned for 'longuns,' Hey Jude held the record for the longest British UK number one single from 1968 until 1997, but more about that later. Also worth seeking out online is the unreleased long version of Flying, which runs in excess of 9 minutes and sees the Beatles dabbling in the genre which later became known as ambient music. OK, onto Pink Floyd.

1) Atom Heart Mother 23.44
2) Echoes 23.35
3) Soundscape (Pulse secret track) 21.49
4) Dogs 17.04
5) Interstellar Overdrive (London 1966/1967) 16.43
6) Shine On You Crazy Diamond (Parts 1-4) 13.31
7) Alan's Psychedelic Breakfast 13.00
8) Shine On You Crazy Diamond (Parts 5-9) 12.23
9) A Saucerful Of Secrets 12.00
10) Nick's Boogie (London 1966/1967) 11.50
11) Pigs (Thee Different Ones) 11.22
12) Sheep 11.24
13) Interstellar Overdrive 9.41
14) Sorrow 8.47
15) High Hopes 8.22

I haven't included tracks from live albums, which means the four 'longuns' from the live disc of Ummagumma are excluded for example. The 'soundscape' is a bit of a shoo-in to be honest, and interestingly the band chose to break up a few of their epics like Sysyphus and The Narrow Way into different parts. Now, Bob Dylan is a particularly interesting example as I seem to recall him once being asked 'Why are your songs so long?' and replying something along the lines of 'I can't believe you have the nerve to ask me that!'

1) Murder Most Foul 16.54
2) Highlands 16.32
3) Tempest 13.55
4) Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands 11.22
5) Desolation Row 11.21
6) Joey 11.05
7) Brownsville Girl 11.03

8) Key West Philosopher 9.34
9) Tin Angel 9.05
10) Lily, Rosemary And The Jack Of Hearts 8.54
11) Ain't Talkin 8.48
12) Hurricane 8.32
13) Ballad In Plain D 8.17
14) Idiot Wind 7.50
15) Standing In The Doorway 7.43
= Spirit On The Water 7.43

Again live tracks have been omitted and I did look up the lengths of numbers 4 and 5 on Wikipedia as they are so close. Next, I thought it would be interesting to look at consecutive longest number ones in the UK since the charts began in 1952. Again, the times are from the versions I have.

1) Here In My Heart (Al Martino) 3.14 (1952)
2) You Belong To Me (Jo Stafford) 3.15 (1953)
3) Secret Love (Doris Day) 3.44 (1954)
4) Mary's Boychild (Harry Belafonte) 4.25 (1957)
5) House Of The Rising Sun (The Animals) 4.32 (1964)
6) Those Were The Days (Mary Hopkin) 5.10 (1968)
7) Hey Jude (The Beatles) 7.11 (1968)
8) D'You Know What I Mean (Oasis) 7.22 (1997)
9) All Around The World (Oasis) 9.38 (1998)

For the last three I've googled the official single lengths as people can get awfully worked up about these things! Surprisingly Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody, often regarded as the number one hit that broke the mould when it came to length, was five seconds short of 6 minutes, so it was still a good way off of breaking the Beatles' length-record at the time of its release in 1975. Winnifred Atwell's 'Let's Have Another Party' was number one in 1955 and ran to 5.54 but this was across both sides of the vinyl single so I view it more as a double A-side.

Not only is it interesting that the last two on the list were both by Oasis, but also that the preceding two were both written by Paul McCartney. 'All Around The World' also seems to be heavily influenced by 'Hey Jude' with its 'na na na' refrain. I doubt that anybody is going to break the record now, and to be honest I can't take more than a couple of minutes of most modern songs anyway, but that's just personal taste. 

And just for info, the longest record to stall at number two in the UK was Laurie Anderson's 'Oh Superman' in 1981 which gobbled up 8 minutes and 21 seconds. She was number one to Lou Reed however as she later became his wife. Lou himself had pushed the boundaries back in 1968 by putting the cacophonous 17-minute track, 'Sister Ray,' on the Velvet Underground's second album.

Don McClean's 'American Pie,' which is often regarded as the longest 'number two hit' runs to 8.33 but like Winnifred Atwell's disc, the track was split across the two sides of the vinyl '45.'

Another track often cited as an epic is Led Zeppelin's 'Stairway to Heaven.' However, it was never released as a UK single and it is actually ninth in the Led Zep length rankings which are topped by 'In My Time Of Dying.' Meanwhile, the longest track I have in my collection is Mike Oldfield's 'Amarok' which runs for an entire hour and fills an entire album. As far as I am aware, Richard Branson wanted him to produce a commercial sequel to Tubular Bells so Mr Oldfield presented Virgin with this beguiling track instead. Quite frankly, given Mr Branson's brass neck of late, my sympathies lie firmly with Mike. After that we get a few half-hour tracks by the king of improvisation, Miles Davis, and then we're into the realm of Pink Floyd, etc. Another couple of eighteen-minuters I like are Cat Stevens' 'Foreigner Suite' and Arlo Guthrie's 'Alice's Restaurant' which is more of a story than a song!

Oh, and finally, if you insist, here are the longest tracks by Adam Colton & Teresa Colton. Let's face it, this is what you came here for after all!

1) Silicon Symphony (Parts 1-3) 11.36

2) Silicon Symphony (Parts 4-6) 11.24

3) The Lighthouse Trail 6.58
4) Arizona Sunrise 6.55
5) The Travelling Kind 5.34
6) Spanish Nights 5.26
7) Push Button One 5.22
8) The Other Side Of Town 5.18
9) Rainbow Moon 5.11
10) Train To Nowhere 5.04

Ok, we are a mother and son act from Kent. Look us up on your favourite online music channel if curious or find us on Amazon. We also did a cover of Billy Joel's 'Piano Man' which surprised us by running to 6.43. The Silicon Symphony is actually a story in six parts - an abridged form of my novel The Nightshade Project. The album, 'Silicon Country,' which contains both of these tracks will be out early in 2021.

It's taken a good hour to write this so that's another lockdown afternoon successfully filled. And I didn't even get round to Hotel California or Telegraph Road.

STOP PRESS: The musical musings and humour continue in '2021: A Musical Odyssey' - now available in digital and paperback formats.

Desert Island Albums - 2018 [Adam's Music Reviews #2]

A few years ago I wrote a kind of 'Desert Island Discs' for this blog, listing ten of my all time favourite albums. As I was recently nominated on Facebook to do exactly this, I thought I'd post an updated list. I say updated; as you'll see the centre of gravity seems to be about 1971! The first three albums and descriptions are the same as in my 2013 list, being perennial favourites, whilst those further down the list are works that I've come to appreciate more since I last blogged about this. In keeping with the BBC Radio 4 'Desert Island Discs' tradition, I have made sure one classical album is included, replacing Beethoven's 3rd Symphony (from last time) with a bit of Gershwin. The musical musings and humour continue in '2021: A Musical Odyssey' - now available in digital and paperback formats.

Pink Floyd – The Dark Side of the Moon (1973). 'Money' is about the only song on this album which receives regular airplay (usually edited because of the rude word), but the album spent 6 consecutive years on the UK album chart. All human life is explained in the lyrics. 'Time' is particularly apt. If I had to pick a second PF album it would be a tough choice between 'The Wall' and the totally bonkers 'Ummagumma'.
[High point for me: the segue from Time into Breathe (Reprise)]

The Beatles – White Album (1968). The sequel to Magical Mystery Tour (which in turn followed Sgt Pepper). On this album, the Beatles did whatever they felt like with no constraints towards commercialism. Styles vary from folk to Charleston to country and western to heavy metal, and 'Revolution 9' simulates the effect of waking up during a series of bizarre dreams, before Ringo lulls us back to sleep with 'Good Night'.
[High point for me: the segue from '...Bungalow Bill' into 'While my Guitar Gently Weeps' (George's finest)]

Bob Dylan – Bringing It All Back Home (1965). Lyrically I think this is Dylan's masterpiece. You've got 'Mr Tambourine Man' and 'Subterranean Homesick Blues', but for me the highlight is the verbal deluge of 'It's alright Ma, I'm Only Bleeding'. This album is half folk and half rock – both sides of Mr Zimmerman's oeuvre. For a second Dylan choice, 1996's 'Time Out of Mind' comes close, but so do about ten others!

Rolling Stones – Sticky Fingers (1971). The Stones emerged from their brief dabble with psychedelia with what I regard to be their three finest albums; Beggars Banquet, Let it Bleed and this one. Opening with Brown Sugar, which amazingly still gets radio airplay in these more politically correct times, the classics keep on coming. Wild Horses heralded further 70s ballads, but it is the extended jam of 'Can You Hear Me Knocking?' which really highlights the band's musicality. The final four tracks show that even at their most decadent, the Stones could be amazingly mellow. The album's conclusion, 'Moonlight Mile,' is a little-known classic that deserves regular airplay. Great for sitting round a campfire!

Led Zeppelin III – (1970). Whilst 'IV' had the all-time classic (Stairway to Heaven) and the world's most sampled drumbeat (When the Levee Breaks), 'III' is an album of two halves. The first half opens with the archetypal Zeppelin of Immigrant Song and includes the 7-minute blues epic 'Since I've been Loving You' as well as 'Out on the Tiles' (similar to 'Good Times, Bad Times' from the first album), but it is the relaxed folky second half that surprises, particularly Tangerine and That's The Way. Great for sitting round a camp-... oh I've done that one!

David Bowie – The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (1972). In younger days, I was a bigger fan of this album's predecessor, Hunky Dory, for it's eclecticism and Rick Wakeman's piano playing. However, for pure escapism, 'Ziggy' is a masterpiece. The first three tracks run together like a trilogy, as do the final three. The filling is equally good. Bowie starts out theatrically with Five Years and Mick Ronson's soaring guitar solos excel throughout. It's a bold statement, but this album provides a rare glimpse of something beyond the mundane.

Travis – Good Feeling (1997). I saw Travis perform as a warm-up band before they were famous and dismissed them as 'Oasis wannabes.' I was wrong. 'The Man Who...' gets all the plaudits, but this was the group's raw debut. Like so many on this list, it's an album of two halves. 'All I Want to do is Rock' is a simple, yet rousing opener and 'Tied to the Nineties' sums up how we may have felt at the time about what now seems to have been a 'classic' decade. The love songs come thick and fast at the end. Travis have never seemed so impassioned since, although once they unplugged the guitars and found a formula, they would achieve stardom.

The Kinks – Muswell Hillbillies (1971). The Kinks' 'Arthur' album of 1969 has never been far from my CD player, but just a couple of years later came this little-known classic. The songs are something of a catalogue of disorders, dealing with alcoholism, anorexia and anxiety (and that's just the 'A's), but the subjects are always dealt with humorously, and Ray Davies even recommends a good old fashioned cure for all – 'have a cup of tea!' A folky feel pervades and sadly the pub that appears on the album cover is now in a state of disrepair. The opening track sums it up; it starts quietly, when the drums kick in they never sounded better and then it builds to Ray's deranged shout of 'I'm a 20th century man but I don't wanna be here.' Brilliant!

Photo: Myself outside the Archway Tavern which features on the album cover.

John Lennon – Plastic Ono Band (1970). Before we got the 'John as a saint' persona (which he never courted), we had this – a raging diatribe against all society's norms. This would have been something as a shock for those who remember the Beatles as lovable clowns from their early years. Working Class Hero is a classic, although I would advise a '12' certificate if you have kids. 'Look at Me' is a very nice introspective acoustic track, and in case anybody was hoping for a continuation of the Beatles career, John laments 'The dream is over' on the penultimate track. After some activism, John would settle into family life before his tragic demise, and comparing the relaxed feel of his final songs with this album is like comparing chalk and cheese.

George Gershwin – Piano Concerto in F / Rhapsody in Blue / An American in Paris (1924-1928). The version I have features Daniel Blumenthal on piano and may have even been the first classical album I appreciated. 'Piano concerto in F' always returns fatalistically to the same dramatic orchestral chord, with variations that include the bluesy second movement and a high-speed summary of all that went before (the third movement). An American in Paris includes the orchestrated sound of car horns before mellowing into its more famous romantic theme, and Rhapsody in Blue has an opening that is perhaps second only to 'Beethoven's fifth' when it comes to fame, but entertains with around twenty minutes of piano dominated themes.

Desert Island Albums - 2013 [Adam's Music reviews #1]

Many of the pieces I write for this blog are edited versions of articles I write for a local magazine. This month I am going to give you something different. I always enjoy writing about music, so I thought I'd initiate a 'Desert Island Discs' feature. [This is BBC Radio 4's programme where famous people choose records they would like to have with them if stranded on a desert island.] I have selected ten of my favourite albums (or downloads) in no particular order and given the reason why I have chosen them. The musical musings and humour continue in '2021: A Musical Odyssey' - now available in digital and paperback formats.

Pink Floyd – The Dark Side of the Moon (1973). 'Money' is about the only song on this album which receives regular airplay (usually edited because of the rude word), but the album spent 6 consecutive years on the UK album chart. All human life is explained in the lyrics. 'Time' is particularly apt. If I had to pick a second PF album it would be a tough choice between 'The Wall' and the totally bonkers 'Ummagumma,' which features a track called 'Grantchester Meadows' (see photo).

The Beatles – White Album (1968). The sequel to Magical Mystery Tour (which in turn followed Sgt Pepper). On this album, the Beatles did whatever they felt like with no constraints towards commercialism. Styles vary from folk to Charleston to country and western to heavy metal, and 'Revolution 9' simulates the effect of waking up during a series of bizarre dreams, before Ringo lulls us back to sleep with 'Good Night'.

Bob Dylan – Bringing It All Back Home (1965). Lyrically I think this is Dylan's masterpiece. You've got 'Mr Tambourine Man' and 'Subterranean Homesick Blues', but for me the highlight is the verbal deluge of 'It's alright Ma, I'm Only Bleeding'. This album is half folk and half rock – both sides of Mr Zimmerman's oeuvre. For a second Dylan choice, 1996's 'Time Out of Mind' comes close, but so do about ten others!

Brian Wilson – Smile (2004). The Beach Boys' lost album from 1967 finally appeared in the early 'noughties' as a solo effort (but still sounding like the surfing group). More like a concert-piece of linked songs, the lyrics are fun and random (such as a song about vegetables), but with a sense of triumph that the composer, who pretty much lost his mind making this the first time around, had finally pulled the album together. Includes 'Heroes and Villains' as it was supposed to be heard and 'Good Vibrations' (often voted the best single of all time).

Radiohead – OK Computer (1997). The 90s were almost like the new 60s in terms of music, with a return to rock styles. The Oxford band here went beyond rock with experimentation hinting at what would come on later albums, whilst retaining some very memorable songs such as 'Paranoid Android' and 'Karma Police'. The lyrics seem to be a rather cynical look at life (a la Dark Side of the Moon). 'No alarms and no surprises' depicts provincial life very adeptly too.

Blur – 13 (1999). Blur are usually remembered for the Chas and Dave-esque singalongs from the 'Parklife' era, but on this album they pushed the envelope, with everything from a 7-minute folk anthem ('Tender') to several all-out sonic assaults worthy of Hawkwind. I think Damon Albarn was trying to illustrate how his head felt at the time following a break-up, and he did a pretty good job. Phew.

Mike Oldfield – Hergest Ridge (1974). Most people would opt for Tubular Bells. This album follows the same format, with two very long pieces on which Mike plays most of the instruments. The mostly relaxing style (inspired by rural walks on the aforementioned ridge) makes the intense sonic assault a third of the way into side two even more striking.

The Kinks – Arthur (or The Decline and Fall of the British Empire) (1969). Following the more famous 'Village Green Preservation Society' album, this one depicts an old man looking back over his life and assessing the worth of it, from the Victorian era ('when the rich were so mean' to quote the lyrics), to the world wars, to his family emigrating to Australia, and finally the sad repeated refrain of 'Arthur' at the end. Here the Kinks gave us longer instrumental jams like 'Australia' and it is unfortunate that the band are generally only remembered for their singles.

Dire Straits – Love Over Gold (1982). Here, most people would go for 'Brothers in Arms', but this album includes the 14-minute 'Telegraph Road' (which seems like a brief history of civilisation),'Private Investigations' (where a Spanish guitar has never sounded so menacing) and the amusing 'Industrial Disease' in which Mark Knopfler impersonates a doctor!

Beethoven - 3rd symphony "Eroica" (1804). You have to have a 'token gesture' classical piece when you go on Desert Island Discs so here is mine. This one has the famous melodic first movement (make sure you get the full 17-minute version), followed by a dramatic funeral march, a light third movement and a rousing finale. Initially composed to honour Napolean, Beethoven changed his mind as the leader's lust for power became apparent. The 5th 6th and 9th symphonies are also pretty essential.