John Gushue . . . Dot Dot Dot

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

I guess a measure that a song is a classic is its ability to be adapted to different genres. I love what King Curtis did with his sax in covering Frank Loesser's What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?, a pop standard that singers obviously love to sing. (Check out Ella Fitzgerald or Rufus Wainwright, for instance, taking a run at those notes.) 

 

Chocolate and churros

For many years, my wife Martha has told me that if you really, really want to know what hot chocolate is, you have to have it in Madrid, with a plate of churros. Martha happens to make a mean cup of hot chocolate herself (we call it Spanish chocolate, although I always suspected that in Spain they would just call it "chocolate"), so my appetite has been interested in this for a long time. 

I finally had the opportunity to go to Spain in 2018. In Madrid, we stayed with Martha's aunt Luci, and had fun wandering the streets, gazing at the art of Sorolla, Goya and Velasquez, and catching up with relatives. I saw that "taberna culture" in Madrid — the lifestyle that values the neighbourhood eatery, which is like a pub and a family restaurant — is very much alive. 

But there's nothing like the chocolate. 

And the churros. 

 

Martha took me to Chocolateria Valor, not far from Puerta del Sol, in a busy shopping district of historic Madrid.

Valor is a famous global chocolate brand (you can find it at Winner's sometimes), but their chocolaterias are something else. It's like an old-fashioned restaurant, with bright chrome and polished surfaces, and they sell mainly chocolate treats. 

 

Martha has Valor products in the house,  and once in a while we have an indulgent mug of hot chocolate. It's a world away from the boil-kettle-and-add-water-to-brown-powder I've known. 

And it makes me want to go back to Madrid some day ... 

How Paul Simon influenced Mad World

I would never have put Paul Simon's Still Crazy After All These Years as a thematic cousin — let alone a direct link — to Tears for Fears' Mad World. 

Yet, there it is. In this Dutch program, Roland Orzabal talks about the Paul Simon classic, and how its perspective is exactly what he was trying to express as someone who watched the world go by through a window. 

And ... huh. 

Tubular Bells, with more than just Mike Oldfield

I came across something I have not seen in a long time ... decades, actually. I think I saw this via the TV channel that ETV ran as a bit of an experiment (Channel 13, if memory serves) when cable was new. 

This is a 1973 BBC recording of Mike Oldfield and Tubular Bells, except that it's live and Oldfield obviously is not multitracking himself as he did on the album of the same name. 

There's a bit of a dream team playing the guitars. Seated next to Oldfield are (among others) Steve Hillage, Mick Taylor (still in the Rolling Stones at that point) and Fred Frith. This is Taylor and Frith, the latter nailing that avant garde look with a very Seventies sweater. 

I love watching a very chill Oldfield, all of 20 at the time (it's unnerving, yes, to realize that the music, made famous in The Exorcist, was composed, played and recorded by a teenager), practically reclining in a chair, swapping a bass for an acoustic guitar and back again, smiling happily as the suite moves into its finale, he and Frith chugging out the rhythm for the bed. Viv Stanshall's voice is used from the tapes, but everything else seems to be live. 

This song reminds me of the time we got married. The Go-Betweens were an Australian band, and Streets of Your Town was, I think, as close as they go to a hit around the world. 

It's a timeless favourite of mine, and I listened to a lot this winter while I was recuperating on the couch, reading books, falling into naps. It sounds like it could have been recorded now or at multiple other periods of town. 

It's a bright song, with — quite like a lot of British songs I like — a dark tone lyrically. It's a great legacy song for Grant McLennan, who died much too early of a heart attack, in 2006. He was only 48. 

A John Prine cover

The late John Prine's Hello In There is one of his classics. This is a performance from 1990 of Michael Stype, Natalie Merchant and Billy Bragg. 

We went for a walk

On Saturday, we walked down to the community mailbox and back. Which was a bit of a deal for yours truly; I have only walked as far as the curb with the garbage can since January. 

I broke my right leg on Jan. 29, when I slipped on black ice while walking through MUN's campus on the way to work. I'm fine, although full recovery is still in the offing: my main work now is improving the ligaments in my foot and around my ankle. Patience! 

Still, it was nice to walk a bit further. I'm looking forward to some more walking challenges in the days ahead. 

 

Inspector Chalmers goes to the land of Pulp Fiction

I can't stop chuckling about this mashup of The Simpsons and Pulp Fiction. 

 

This is still the day

The The's Soul Mining came out in 1983; it's one of those albums that instantly takes me back to university days, my late teens, the works. I still listen to it, and indeed coughed up some coins for a boxed reissue that came out a few years ago. It might have been the Newfoundlander in me, but the fiddle and accordion on This Is The Day (not to mention the oh-so-world-weary lyrics by Matt Johnson, who is not much older than I am!) still make me tap my toes. 

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Fool in the Rain

Led Zeppelin's final single, and a tune they never had the opportunity to perform live. There's a swing to this song about being stood-up; it remains a favourite. 

 Fool in the Rain was inspired by Brazilian rhythms and has a carnival atmosphere in the break, and while a lot of that is due to John Paul Jones and Jimmy Page, the video below shows how brilliant a drummer John Bonham was. It's just the drum, isolated from the rest. 

Miracles

"Every day holds the possibility of a miracle."
- Elizabeth David 

Sudsy

"There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them."
- Sylvia Plath