I've been mainly listening to entire albums lately at home, but as far as individual songs, I'm gonna go straight to my office iTunes:
Mike & the Ravens "Goodbye Mary Jane"
(frat rock raunch from the early sixties, but with a melancholy feel)
Mitty Collier "Share What You Got"
(desperate sounding southern soul; William Bell did it originally, and his version isn't bad, but Collier OWNS this number)
Billy Boy Arnold "I Ain't Got You"
(Chicago bluesman...one of the few left in town who doesn't do rotten blooze-rock, Buddy Guy-style)
George Strait "I Ain't Her Cowboy Anymore"
(gimmicky title, I know, but the giggles turn to tears after you learn that George's ladyfriend is getting tired of him for no apparent reason...at least he's not the last to know)
Bobby Wisdom "Handwriting On The Wall"
(white soul singer on the Renfro label, ca. 1960's...same plotline as George Strait's song, only without the silly "cowpoke" metaphors...ol' boy tears it up, too: "I see the SIIIIIIIIIIGNS...the handwriting's on the wall!!!")
Daves well known but some of his songs are just so intense - yet light at the same time. it literally sounds like morning in the woods or something.
Francoise Hardy "There But For Fortune"
off one of her WB albums. spooky.
Justice Department "It Could Be More Beautiful Than Life"
from a random 45 i found. i think this is a gospel group but this is one of those great soul/gospel/doesnt matter songs. the echo efx on the vocals bring this into lightly psychedelic soul land.
Sammi Smith "Lonely Street"
anyone looking for strongly produced very emotive early 70s country, dont sleep on Sammi...
Shopping Trolly "Bring Back The Mary Hopkin Days"
late 80s UK band, heavenly vocal gal. Weird... beautiful...Mesmerizing!!!
Talk Talk "After The Flood"
the closest thing to a LSD trip this side of 1975. check that beat! the sax "solo" is a mindfuck. apparently they recorded about 200 takes on 128 tracks and it took months to edit it down, dropping tracks in and out of the mix. this song defines 'epic' to me.
Big_Stacks"I don't worry about hittin' power, cause I don't give 'em nuttin' to hit." 4,670 Posts
Hey,
Sorry I'm late, but here are six songs that kill me (at the moment):
-"Let Me in Your Life"-Bill Withers (this song is so pretty and quaint).
-"The Truth Shall Make You Free"-King Hannibal.
-"Love is Life"-Earth, Wind, & Fire.
-"Peace in the Valley"-The Gospelaires from Dayton Ohio.
-"Be Grateful"-Walter Hawkins and the Love Alive Choir.
-"Give Me a Clean Heart"-The Gospel Keynotes.
Honorable Mention: "In the Upper Room"-Mahalia Jackson.
This is a late night/insomniac/we don't need another woebegone song post made up entirely of "weird looking dudes with beards" b/w "(dude, i'd fuck her) sweating girls who sometimes wear lipstick and frilly shirts, but always deliver ruggedness, just check their pipes."
The dudes with beards? They will likely get the collective ehhhh from the soulstrut intelligentsia. "Not funky enough." Well, here's something... I'm not doing this for you, see, I'm doing this for me. So, when you're listening to these songs, please don't think of you, think of me. (Like my man says: Leave me be/ I was in love once, too/ And I know what it's like/ And I don't need this/ Shit from you/ I don't/ Listen to no one/ So why should I?/ They're all LIARS! --[instrumental refrain]-- So now you wanna talk/About what we claim to be/ I'm not thinking of you/ I'm thinking of me/ If that bothers you/ Then leave/ Leave me be/ 'Cause it's all shit/ And you should know...). And besides, the killing songs exemplum is not geared towards getting open on breaks or crucially classic slept-on shit, it's about what's killing you, that is, me (These songs ain't cherries. You can't pick them. They picks you. That is, me), and what's killing me (remember those what's killing you? threads lily used to make over there?) is some dudes with beards and warbly voices. Oh, and some sometimes lipsticked chicks.
About the chicks. Sure, they're quite possibly cute or blappable or worthy of more attention than you've given Anna Nicole Smith, but that's not the point, either. Think of them (her) like a hotrod convention at the coliseum. You and your dudes standing around looking at the engine--hoods up--on some greasemonkey shhh-rude-ness. "Check out the pipes on that one!" The pipes, man, the pipes. That's what's killing me. (And that Fender with the duct taped strap.)
There's something to be said for the time (currently 3:09 am) and the amount of bird references in this post (insert JRoot's: "If the wedding goes awry, there's always birding"), but that birdcallingcode is, as of now (currently 3:10 am), indiscernable. Suffice to say, birds mean something right now. Ask her.
Ok...Girl Why You Wanna Make Me Blue-Temptations...Skylark-Aretha..Little Boy Blue-The Impressions..I Can't Find-Smokey..I'm Still Waiting-Patti Labelle And The Blubelles..When You Walked In-The Five Royales.
Comments
- spidey
The dudes with beards? They will likely get the collective ehhhh from the soulstrut intelligentsia. "Not funky enough." Well, here's something... I'm not doing this for you, see, I'm doing this for me. So, when you're listening to these songs, please don't think of you, think of me. (Like my man says: Leave me be/ I was in love once, too/ And I know what it's like/ And I don't need this/ Shit from you/ I don't/ Listen to no one/ So why should I?/ They're all LIARS! --[instrumental refrain]-- So now you wanna talk/About what we claim to be/ I'm not thinking of you/ I'm thinking of me/ If that bothers you/ Then leave/ Leave me be/ 'Cause it's all shit/ And you should know...). And besides, the killing songs exemplum is not geared towards getting open on breaks or crucially classic slept-on shit, it's about what's killing you, that is, me (These songs ain't cherries. You can't pick them. They picks you. That is, me), and what's killing me (remember those what's killing you? threads lily used to make over there?) is some dudes with beards and warbly voices. Oh, and some sometimes lipsticked chicks.
About the chicks. Sure, they're quite possibly cute or blappable or worthy of more attention than you've given Anna Nicole Smith, but that's not the point, either. Think of them (her) like a hotrod convention at the coliseum. You and your dudes standing around looking at the engine--hoods up--on some greasemonkey shhh-rude-ness. "Check out the pipes on that one!" The pipes, man, the pipes. That's what's killing me. (And that Fender with the duct taped strap.)
There's something to be said for the time (currently 3:09 am) and the amount of bird references in this post (insert JRoot's: "If the wedding goes awry, there's always birding"), but that birdcallingcode is, as of now (currently 3:10 am), indiscernable. Suffice to say, birds mean something right now. Ask her.