NO THANKS: I WILL SURVIVE

 As in, yes, if you are asking me whether I won't, no thanks, I will survive. I will, rather than rejecting the alternative option, but this song offers so much that is apt to this theme that I will disregard any earlier appearance, a decade ago. (Even if it uses up my favourite version ever.) But this is where we all, the survivors, or most of us, stand on 2020, defiant and steadfast against the tide of badness, with light beginning to seep through the cracks. Covid 19? The vaccine beckons. Donald aka Agent Orange? The back door is open and waiting. The economy? Hmm, well, we'll have to see on that one. Boris and his chumocracy of cronies? That too.

It's true, the song was originally a sturdy polemic against a returning suitor, or as wiki puts it so neatly: "the narrator's discovery of personal strength following an initially devastating breakup". The assertive lyric, carried by and coupled with an uplifting and anthemic tune, guarantees for a sea of raised hands on the dance floor, and not just by righteous rejectees. I love it.

Gloria Gaynor introduced us all to the song, an astonishing 42 years ago. I was not, it's fair to say, a fan of disco in 1978, but I could see this was one terrific song. Indeed, even the stuffy old Library of Congress put it up, in 2016, for the National Recording Registry, alongside such essentials of every collection as Alan Sherman's Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah and Swanee, by Al Jolson. (I jest: they have a cracking selection!) VH1 gave it the accolade of the Greatest Ever Dance Song in 2000, Rolling Stone only managing it a number two in their 2012 Best Disco Tracks of All Time.

Over the years many have tried to bring their bit of something to the song, many, most, in truth, poor and lucklustre facsimiles, but some have been really rather interesting. A rule I have is that, if it includes the rolling piano intro, I will listen to no more. Here's a few that don't:

Dig a little beneath the initial hit of gruyere, and this, by the Puppini Sisters, is actually a delight. I don't go a whole bundle of the recalibration of songs into a faux-forties Andrews/Beverley Sisters style, but this  transcends my prejudice, by playing rather more with the arrangement, some glorious walking bass and aan unexpected choral middle eight and coda.Who the Puppini Sisters? A clue; they ain't, but one actually is Puppini by name and they were doing this sort of thing way ahead of Scott Bradleee, if from downtown London rather than New York. (Has Bradlee tackled the song? Of course he has.......)

Much as I adore R.E.M., I confess to finding their throwaway b side live/impromptu covers a slightly less than intrinsic need, but, against that odd, this one conveys just enough charm to make it, Stipe's stumbling through the lyrics a little haphazardly falls just the right side of endearing.

SMM used to have a gentleman's agreement not to include anything too new, mainly then a naive hope that it would keep the RIAA off our case, from the days we put up mp3s. This is barely a couple of months old, but in the spirit of survival, or its flip, given we may not be here next year, mankind, not the site, I feel I have to place it. A terrific version, a slow chant of faith. Lykke Li is a Swede, one of a bevy of Nordic artists firmly finding their feet in the world of electronica and ambient. 

And so finally to Anohni, or, as she still was at the time of this recording, Antony, a song so suited on so many levels, not least the comments on youtube, made to proclaim the ownership of this wracked performance. Some say she overeggs near all she touches. I say bring it on.

So, my new year resolution: survive!

(OK, you want the Cake one too? We all need Cake in these dark days, the darkness potentially deeper ahead the dawn.)

You choose: Gloria, Puppini, R.E.M., Lykke Li, Anohni or Cake. Or all of 'em?

ALABAMA:THE BLIND BOYS OF

Being neither resident in the state, or even the country, my observations from afar lead me to feel Alabama doesn't get much good press, even in the medium of popular song. Especially in the medium of popular song. And when the only two positives come from Al Jolson and Lynyrd Skynyrd, you know you're in trouble. (Nah, I take that back about Skynyrd, I bloody love that song, but it only exists as an attempt to justify the place from the ire of others. But we all know that. Right?)

Moving swiftly on, there is one Alabama icon that really does make me gleam, that being this astonishingly lasting vocal group from the state. Granted it can not have been an easy start in life, born both blind and black below the Mason-Dixon line in the pre-war years of the great depression. But maybe, just maybe, being at the now anaethemically named Alabama Institute for the Negro Blind gave these boys a start they mightn't have otherwise achieved. For they were boys, just 9 years old as they gave their first concerts, in the school chorus as the Happyland Jubilee Singers. The idea of blind gospel singers seems somewhat of a lame trope these days, a cliche to fill gaps in our knowledge, yet it was actually quite a big deal back then, the Happyland Jubilee Singers getting their big break from a 'Battle of the Blind Boys' music competition. (Beat that, Simon Cowell, although X Factor does increasingly feel it is muscling in on disabilities.) Up against the Jackson Harmoneers, the publicity gave both bands a boost, as they became the Five Blind Boys of Alabama and the Five Blind Boys of Mississippi respectively, touring both together and, sometimes, as each other. The Alabama version got a record contract and a hit, in 1948, and that was the end, all but, of the rival version.

Gospel was big in the 1950, and it was to this genre the boys stayed true. Original founding member Clarence Fountain had this to say about this decision. Of course, as the decades have rolled by, there have been many instances where they have seemed to sing of more secular themes, but never have they sung a lyric where an ambivalence about to whom the song is addressed cannot be drawn. Thus, as the 60s became the 70s, with R'n'B and Soul taking great strides through the white dominance of the day, so the Blind Boys were there, reminding all as to where these musical forms had a common home. (Indeed, how many of the giants in those styles hadn't started off in the church? Aretha and Al were certainly no exceptions.)

It wasn't because any of this I was drawn to the group, almost more despite the religion. I have little truck with it myself, probably since, as a teenager and when asked, ahead of having my appendix out, my father proclaimed me as heathen. (The nurse duly wrote that down.) But I do love a harmony vocal, but, rather the honey smooth, the more raggedy the better, think Lindisfarne and the Jayhawks, so when the Blind Boys starting cropping up on albums I was listening too, my attention was picqued. These were often tribute albums, whereby the great and the good would queue up to pass cover on their peers, such as Richard Thompson. And then came Solomon Burke's majestic comeback in 2002. So, when in 2004 they collaborated with Ben Harper, more so because of their involvement, this was a record I had to have: 'There Will be a Light'. And again, in 2005, with 'Atom Bomb', they having been now tucked under the wing of Peter Gabriel's Real World record label. Astonishingly, a full 50 albums into their career, suddenly they were hot property, filling concert halls both alone and in cahoots with musicians from all walks and at all stages of their careers. True, there have had to be changes along the way; there are none of the original 5 left, let alone performing, newer members snucking in seamlessly over the decades, different voices, different timbres, the overall sound, the overall performance remaining little changed. The current line-up does however still include Jimmy Carter, also a pupil at that Alabama Institute, but too young for their debut in 1939. Whilst a touring member ahead of that time, it was only officially in 1982 that he made his recording presence as a member. Nonetheless, his legacy with the originals is sufficient to consider him as one. Here's his take on it all. (Clarence, mentioned above and in the interview, died last year.)

I can't even begin to give full due acclaim to this wonderful institution, coming so late to their game, having to be born and whatnot, but, scattered both within the piece and below, enjoy some musical heaven.

Finally, and with enormous excitement, I can report I am finally getting to see them live, next month, at the Cambridge Folk Festival, here in the U.K., alongside Amadou and Maryam, blind husband and wife world music titans from Mali, who themselves met similarly, at Mali's Institute for the Young Blind. I cannot wait.

Any of these....

Public Domain: Rock-a-Bye Your Baby with a Dixie Melody

Al Jolson: Rock-a-Bye Your Baby with a Dixie Melody

[purchase]

Judy Garland: Rock-a-Bye Your Baby with a Dixie Melody

[purchase]

Rufus Wainwright: Rock-a-Bye Your Baby with a Dixie Melody

[purchase]

This song is from a 1918 Broadway musical, Sinbad, which showcased music's biggest star at the time, Al Jolson. For a show ostensibly set in Bagdad, it featured more than a few songs extolling the Old South: "Swanee", "My Mammy", "Darktown Dancin’ School ", and this one. By US law, any song copyrighted or recorded before 1923 is now in the public domain and so it nicely fits our weekly theme.

Travel six blocks north to Carnegie Hall and skip forward 43 years to the night of April 23, 1961, where we find the same song being performed by another of American music's biggest stars: Judy Garland. The concert was a huge milestone for the sometimes erratic performer and won her four Grammys, including Best Album and Best Female Vocalist.

Forty-five years later, same venue, same tune – in fact, all of the same tunes that were sung during Judy's original Carnegie Hall concert were recreated by Canadian-American singer Rufus Wainwright in one man's tribute to a quintessential gay icon. About his homage, he said, "I don't think it would have been possible for anyone other than a gay male to do this concert. In a weird way, a gay man has some sort of perspective on it, I believe."

Quite a legacy for a simple Tin Pan Alley tune written by a Hungarian immigrant.