Well it’s not like me to do many postings about music but perhaps inspired by checking out the blogsite of a recent visitor, Every Record Tells a Story, here is my second in two days. London buses eh. And speaking of London Transport did you know today’s the 150th anniverary of the opening of the Underground system? In case you were about to ask, no I wasn’t there. But I was there when the Beatles brought out the single Please Please Me just the 50 years ago this week. 50 YEARS! How can that possibly be for real? I can see the mop-haired lads belting out the song as clearly as if it was yesterday (even though I’m struggling to recall what I had for lunch on Monday).
It makes you reflect doesn’t it? To me it’s just a moment away in my mind and I’m transported back to those fantastic days with all that tremendously exciting music coming out of the clubs of Liverpool which spread everywhere in no time. Every week that passed by seemed to introduce a new band or new sound with lines and refrains and guitar licks and drum beats that resonate with me even now. Take a song like ‘My Generation’ by the Who. It’s about as anthemic for its time as any song I can think of with its dramatic wish ‘Hope I die before I get old’ which can only be uttered by somebody foolish and irresponsible like the young backed up by the stunning vocal performance from Daltry stuttering his ff’s to suggest that the then young generation was challenging its elders to go f**k off. To me it’s a song that’s hardly dated in almost half a century and I could imagine it being delivered by someone contemporary like Plan B and it’d still sound fresh and relevant.
But here’s the thing, back in the mid-60’s the comparative 50 year musical reference point would be songs popular during the time of the First World War ie songs such as ‘Pack up you troubles in your old kit bag’, ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary’ and ‘Take me back to dear old Blighty’. It’s inconceivable to think they could have been relevant to the 60’s generation in any way at all. It’s like comparing a horse-drawn carriage to an E-type Jag. And here’s another thing; my grandkids would still find the carriage to be hopelessly old-fashioned but plonk a convertible E-type in front of them and I’d bet they’d coo and purr as if they were looking at something blood red and straight out of the Ferrari factory.
Icons; musically and technically. So good they can please any generation.