In Memoriam-Robin Lumley and John Giblin

 [purchase Product]

Robin Lumley and John Giblin were members of Brand X at various times.  I’ve written before about Brand X, a jazz-rock fusion band probably best known for the contributions of Phil Collins (who I’ve written about, too), but the band’s membership was somewhat of a revolving door.  (And I wrote about another member, guitarist John Goodsall, for our 2021 In Memoriam theme.)  Lumley was a founding member of the band, on keyboards, and was involved from 1974-1980, with a brief hiatus in 1978, while Giblin, a bass player, was a member in 1979, although his recordings were released through 1982. 

Robin Lumley was born on January 17, 1948, in Devonport, England.  Originally a drummer, he switched to keyboards in the 1970s.  In 1972, his former neighbor, David Bowie, rang him up one day, to see if he would be interested in replacing Bowie’s ill keyboard player, Matthew Fisher from Procol Harum, starting the next day.  He was interested and joined the Spiders From Mars.  After that, Lumley worked as a studio musician and met Collins, which led to the formation of Brand X.  Lumley also became interested in music production.  His hiatus from Brand X in 1978 was to work on production projects, including Rod Argent’s Moving Home, and Bill Bruford’s Feels Good to Me, and he later produced records for Orleans, Anthony Phillips and Isotope, among others.

In the 1980s, he formed a jazz-rock band that included Rod Argent, Graeme Edge (of the Moody Blues), Morris Pert (of Brand X), and Gary Brooker (of Procol Harum). Lumley later married an Australian and moved to Australia. In 2001, he formed SETI with Graeme Edge, bassist Rob Burns, and Rod McGrath (cellist for the West Australian Symphony Orchestra).  He also composed and produced music for over 250 television and radio commercials for numerous television productions in the US, UK and Australia.

Lumley died from heart failure in Plymouth, on March 9, 2023, at the age of 75.

***

John Giblin was born on February 26, 1952, in Bellshill, Scotland.  He was best known as a studio musician, contributing bass to albums and performances by artists such as Peter Gabriel, Paul McCartney, Eric Clapton, Kate Bush, Simple Minds, John Anderson, Phil Collins, Al Green, and Annie Lennox.  Giblin was best known for his mastery of the fretless bass.

As noted above, Giblin recorded with Brand X in 1979, when the band was being pushed to make more commercial music.  The surprising response to this pressure was to have two separate units record—one with bassist Percy Jones, keyboard player Peter Robinson, drummer Mike Clarke and Goodsall, and the other featuring, Lumley, Giblin, Collins and Goodsall.  The output of these two groups were released, but no improvement in commercial success was achieved, leading to a band breakup.

More recently, Giblin was playing more acoustic bass, and was involved in projects with Peter Erskine of Weather Report and Alan Pasqua of Tony Williams Lifetime. 

Giblin died of sepsis following a long illness on May 14, 2023 in Cheltenham, England, aged 71.

You can hear both men on the Brand X track in the video, “Algon (Where an Ordinary Cup of Drinking Chocolate Costs £8,000,000,000),” a title taken from a Monty Python sketch (in which the cup of chocolate only cost £4 million), from the Product album.

 

BLOOM: BLOOMSDAY

I may be six weeks or so early, or, then again, actually I guess I'm really six weeks shy of a century late. 06/06/1922, a date that scans both, coveniently, to both UK and US readers. The 6th of June is the momentous day that spirals out in James Joyce's sprawling Ulysses. Whether the day was actually in 1922 is uncertain*, but, given it that the year the book was first published, that is the shorthand I am applying, and one, no doubt, that will be used when that date comes around this year. So who's read it?

No, I confess, me neither, but it is on a perpetual longlist of books I must get around to in due course. As is War and Peace, I guess, and a number of others that somehow always have me picking up something, um, easier, as I go to the book shop. Because it has this reputation, those knowing aficionados nodding sagely, as the lightweights like me admit their reticence.

Molly Bloom is the main female character in Joyce's book, the free spirited wife of the main protagonist, Leopold Bloom. I bet you didn't know she was based the character of Penelope, in Homer's Odyssey, wife to Odysseus, or Ulysses, in the Roman iteration. With one core difference, in that Penelope was unfailingly faithful to her errant spouse, Molly is unfailingly promiscuous, or, at least, unprepared to accept sexlessness within a stagnating marriage, as she conducts an affair with Hugh "Blazes" Boylan. (Reading that character's name, so wilful is the sheer Irishness of it, becomes one yet further nail in the decison-making coffin about reading the tome.) The final section of the book is famous for being a free-form and unpunctuated stream of consciousness: Molly's soliloquy. One of the eight sentences contains what used to be the largest number of words in any one literary sense, 4,391 words. (What would Blogger dashboard make of that, I wonder, as it automatically critiques my own bizarre constructions?)

She has provoked a number of songs and tunes over the years, or should I say inspired. The first is an instrumental written by Alan Munde, the banjoist, sometime Flying Burrito Brother and member of Country Gazette. It is a delightfully brisk construction, best shown by the dual guitar play of Norman Blake and Tony Rice, although his own version also has merit.

Tom Paxton, the venerable folk singer, around and influential forever, included a paean to her in his 1970 Tom Paxton 6, a joyous blast of strummed banjo and kazoos, the lyric concentrating on her potty mouth, the irresistible lure of a sweary woman something of no small wonder.

But the main song here today comes from Kate Bush, the by now near recluse, living out her life quietly in the country, rarely breaking out into the limelight, despite the clamours of her never more loyal fanbase. The song The Sensual World, from the album of the same name, was released in 1989. Bush fills the album with a plethora of world music influences, from the uillean pipes of Davy Spillane to the exotic open throated vocals of Trio Bulgarka. A wonderful record, I remember buying it, it being the moment I finally "got" the artist, and, I confess, also, the last moment I found myself in that moment, give or take her wondrous play on Sexual Healing. 

What I hadn't then realised was how this title track was based on Molly's soliloquy, her manager possibly talking her out of her original plan, to use only words from Molly's mouth in the words of the song, perhaps fearing an assault from Joyce's estate. So, 22 years later, in 2011, on her Director's Cut revision, rewritings and remixes album, it was a treat to hear it as originally planned, lyrics all Joyce, the re-recorded vocal also benefitting from the more lived in and world weary timbre of her vocals.

Finally, I guess i should get back to the main theme of this piece, as in Bloomsday, the international day of recognition and remembrance for James Joyce and this most celebrated of his works. Biggest, understandably, in Ireland and the U.S., it has taken on legs across the world. I actuall took part in one such celebration, in about 2003, as a then member of Birmingham's Buckland Club, so named after Frank Buckland, a 19th century surgeon, zoologist and naturalist, who had the aspiration and ambition to eat his way through the entire plant and animal kingdoms. The club celebrated Bloomsday that year by a peripatetic feast, each course at separate venues across the city. Much as I would like to give a bite by bite account, I fear I am unable, possibly as much as a result of the necessary imbibing as to the food. But, what I do recall is the kidney starter, included as a celebration of Joyce's exquisite description of how the offal should be best served:

“Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods' roes. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine.”

I discover that there are two songs also around this important date, each by giants of the Irish rock aristocracy, so I leave you with each, U2 and then Fontaines D.C.

The book of the songs.....

* Date unknown? What tosh, the "original" Bloomsday was in 1904, the date Leopold Bloom is reminiscing about during Joyce's 1922. Which makes it highly likely my Buckland Club jolly was in 2004, not 2003.

SNOW & ICE: JACKIE LEVEN

When I think of snow and ice, I think of Scotland. And when I think of Scotland, I think of Jackie Leven. Yes, I have mentioned him before in these pages, that being no good reason not to bring him back again. His legacy of recorded material is immense, having been so prolific for his record label that he had to seek different contracts under different names to get it all out. Sadly missed, his brand of celtic soul impacts on and draws inspiration from his home and the characteristics that reminded him of it. Kate Bush may have offered 50 Words for Snow, I swear Big Jackie had 50 songs. Here are a few.

Snow in Central Park

From his full length solo debut in 1994, Snow in Central Park is arguably one of his better known songs, if any had a claim to that right, his appeal the epitome of cult, a world famous superstar only to those in the know. Of course, it wasn't even his solo debut, he having had (at least) two careers ahead of this, firstly as late 60s singer-songwriter John St. Field, and in scary punk/new-wave band Doll by Doll. And then there were the two alongside, Fife balladeer, Sir Vincent Lone and the Kirkcaldy David Sedaris, Jackie Balfour.

None of the below are in chronological order, but all display lyrical nods to the snowier, icier aspects of his oeuvre. Don't get me wrong, he could do songs about rain and wind as well, being no one winter pony. (Actually I jest, for although he could and did, he could also sing uplifting and cheerful songs too. Just less often. And not for today.)

Stopped by Woods on a Snowy Evening (A Robert Frost poem set to music by Leven.)

Your Winter Days

The Wanderer

Lammermuir Hills

Kirkconnell Flow

Washing by Hand

Finally, with all the above coming from his 20 odd studio albums, it is worth a mention is how he took his muse out on the on the road, leaving behind the often lush arrangements and instrumentation. Live it was usually just himself, a burly bear of a man, year round shorts, ripped denim shirt and battered guitar. A masterfully inventive player on that instrument, bringing all sorts of percussive textures to bear, tapping the wood and caressing the strings, the high point always his voice, a majestic croon, beauty from the beast. At one foot a pint glass with the vodka and lemonade he would occasionally seek topping up, at the other a microphone, to catch the constant rhythm of his foot. You can't catch him now, dead these 8 years, but there are a celebration of live albums also out there. The song below is typical Leven, describing the fear men hold inside. The fear men have without love, without a mother, a wife, a partner, and the dark places that such solitude leads, and the tragedy of it all. He knows these men and, if we are honest, so do we, all within us, but for better grace and luck.

Fear of Woman

Snow.

Ice.

IN MEMORIAM: LIAM ÓG O’FLYNN

A much more influential individual than the blank expression that meets the hearing of his name in most circles, O'Flynn was the first uillean pipe player to gain notice to a rock and roll audience, as a core member of the first Irish traditional act to really break through to the same. No, I don't refer to either the Chieftains or to Sweeney's Men, pacesetters though they were. I refer to the mighty and majestic Planxty. The Chieftains were important, for sure, breaking down barriers and bringing the music into respectability outside of otherwise hooleys and bar sessions, latterly also for their work with major names in the fields of folk, country and rock. And Sweeney's Men, who included O'Flynns's later Planxty bandmate, Andy Irvine, took the mainstream safety of the Clancy Brothers into a wilder and more bohemian sensitivity. Go compare the difference between the Chieftains handling of this tune, 'Give Me Your Hand' ('Tabhair Dom Do Lamh') by the blind 17th century Irish harpist Turlough O'Carolan, with the altogether more exuberant Planxty version below, the tune kicking in at 2.27, following the song ahead of it:

I bloody loved them. They were hitting their prime in the early 70s, just as I was hitting mid-teens and expanding my then musical palette from the pop charts to anything and everything I could get my ears on, usually directed by the inkies, the music influential press that governed all the hip from the non hip. Planxty were seriously hip. With a line-up of O'Flynn, Irvine, Donal Lunny and Christy Moore, they played traditional irish jigs and reels, airs and ballads, seamlessly integrating their own material into the same. With two fine singers and an instrumental prowess encompassing guitar, bouzouki, mandolin, bodhran, hurdy-gurdy, whistles and, most importantly, uillean pipes, that irish bellows driven bagpipe, capable of a plaintive wail, swirling and bending notes, like nothing on earth, one part banshee, one part lullaby. Yes, I had heard a little of this instrument before; the aforementioned Chieftains had introduced me to it, and Horslips, the Dublin folk-rockers had deployed it a little. But nothing like O'Flynn, who could make it sing, scream, howl and lilt, sometimes simultaneously. This is his description of the instrument. And I haven't even mentioned his whistle playing, both normal whistle and low, a few blasts thereof instantly evocative of joy or sorrow, dependent on mood.

It would be no hyperbole to say this band revolutionised how the world had previously seen irish music. From a twiddley diddley dee diversion, this was suddenly to be taken with the utmost seriousness, alongside and in the same breath as the Stones and Bowie. But with more fun. O'Flynn was possibly the quiet man of the group, more soberly attired and less hirsute than his compadres, but it was his solos that had the crowds in awe. A number of incarnations of this band took place over the years and the decades, as individual members peeled off and others joined in, Paul Brady and Matt Malloy to name two, the band formally breaking and re-forming twice, the last such being 20 odd years after their debut, in 2003-5. But whenever it was called Planxty, so always there was O'Flynn.

After the final demise, and in the earlier breaks, O'Flynn was never short of work, with a who's who of session work that ranged from the folk circles he began within to Kate Bush, Mark Knopfler, Emmylou Harris and more. With Planxty no more there was a short period as and in LAPD, he, Irvine, Lunny and Paddy Glackin, the title being to represent Liam, Andy, Paddy and Donal. Hell, on past form they could have called it Planxty and got away with it, but they didn't. However, health was beginning to cause concern, and O'Flynn left in 2013. A private man outside music, he died in March after what was called a long illness. Here's a video of the song featured a little above, 'As I Roved Out', in a live and later setting, Planxty at Vicar Street, Dublin, in 2004, the pipes part transposed to whistle.

His legacy lives on through the wave of younger players who have followed him and been inspired by him, with both pipes and whistle commonplace in the repertoire way beyond any silo of trad. arr.

Rest in peace.

Interested?

AMAZE: WOW/KATE BUSH

For someone who barely dented America until fairly late in her her career, KB has certainly had her fair share of posts here over the years. Which is amazing. And amazing is the word that comes to mind whenever I think of her, although not perhaps for the reasons the by now middle aged matriarch would necessarily wish. And it isn't for that picture either!

Poor Kate was an easy target. With her speaking voice as individual as her singing voice, and a tendency to describe all in superlative led to her becoming fair game for parody. The parody above has not aged as well as the original, I suspect, but the clip shown displays her "incredible" and, of course, her "amazing". (Pity the poor woman, mind, where an appearance on TV is more to discuss some 3rd rate telly rather than her own work.....) I was sure she was also bestowed the honour of a Spitting Image puppet, but was unable to find any proof of this, so you will have to make do with this, which lampoons the ridiculous age, 20-30 years ago, of several then active rockers.

Anyhow, there is actually purpose to this meandering reminisce of time bygone, namely the song, lyrically rammed with the archetypical.

What I hadn't realised at the time was the content of the song, I now musing as to possibly any autobigraphical content to the description of the proximity to the "amazing" performer portrayed. I note also that there seems to have been an air-brush of the final line of the song, a sly reference to presumably more than the capability of vaseline to just prevent chapped lips. I read of a sly pat to her buttocks as that line was sung, but cannot find it, the BBC having censored that aspect for broadcast, it seems.

"We're all alone on the stage tonight
We've been told we're not afraid of you
We know all our lines so well, uh-huh
We've said them so many times
Time and time again
Line and line again

Ooh, yeah, you're amazing! 
We think you're incredible
You say we're fantastic
But still we don't head the bill

Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow! Unbelievable! 
Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow! Unbelievable! 

When the actor reaches his death 
You know it's not for real, he just holds his breath 
But he always dives too soon, too fast to save himself 

He'll never make the screen
He'll never make the Sweeney
Be that movie queen
He's too busy hitting the Vaseline......."

Actually that was quite amazing for 1979. Who do you think it might be?

Buy it here.

Math & Science: Π

Kate Bush: Π
[purchase]

As I wracked my brain for another topical track to write about, I discarded a few ideas, mostly because I didn’t have anything personal to write about. I looked at lists of songs, but none called out to me. So I decided to find a song that had an interesting story, and I remembered that Kate Bush had written a song called “Π.” This being a Math & Science theme, I decided to do a little research on the song, to see whether there was anything there.

I remember when the song came out, hearing that it consisted of Bush singing π to some large number of digits. But that’s not all it is. It is actually a song about a mathematician who is obsessed with the number, somewhat irrationally (sorry), and Bush, a notorious musical eccentric with a remarkable voice, does sing many digits of π in a way that is not at all boring.

But if that was all I found, I’d probably be looking for another, meatier topic. Instead, guess what? A couple of math types posted stuff about the song.

Let’s start with the less strange. Chris McEvoy, a self-described “rabble rousing programmer who hates technology but loves people” pointed out in a blog post on November 11, 2005, that Kate got it wrong. As he wrote:

All was well for the first 53 decimal places but then Kate sang "threeeeee oneeeee" when she should have sang "zeeeeeeerooo" instead. She recovered for the next 24 digits but then it went to hell in a handbasket when she missed out the next 22 digits completely before finishing with a precise rendition of her final 37 digits. (Note—McEvoy later amended his statement, agreeing that she said “zeeeeeeerooo" and not "threeeeee oneeeee").

Which led to a bunch of somewhat hostile comments, because apparently π, and Kate Bush, are not to be trifled with. On the other hand, there’s also a positive comment from someone identifying as “Kate Bush,” but it’s the Internet, so you never know.

On March 14, 2006, McEvoy took to the blogosphere to point out that while that day is considered “Pi Day” in the United States, in countries that use a “Month/Day” system, “Pi Day” should be April 31 (31/4), a date that doesn’t exist, so he suggested May Day as the solution. Also, he cited to a number of British newspapers and radio programmes (as he spells it) that referred to his π digit “Gotcha!” Apparently in England, Kate Bush and π are big deals.

Now, let’s discuss Steve Luttrell, who has a degree in “theoretical physics and [a] PhD . . . in quantum chromodynamics (QCD).” Luttrell was convinced that Bush’s “errors” were actually a deliberate creation of a number puzzle. He put together an entire website devoted to this puzzle, A Great Big Circle, which sadly appears to be gone, but discussed his findings in a series of blog posts, here. In essence, he “solved” the puzzle, to find the exact location of an “artefact built out of stones to resemble a steam locomotive.” And, of course, “The locomotive theme is part of an extended metaphor that runs throughout π, consisting of tunnels, columns, chimneys, mine shafts, and generally anything and everything to do with sex.”

Me, I’m more of a fan of Occam’s Razor, but not in the way that Luttrell interprets it. Although I don't have a PhD in quantum chromodynamics, which according to Wikipedia is is the theory of strong interactions, a fundamental force describing the interactions between quarks and gluons which make up hadrons such as the proton, neutron and pion.  I still don't know what that means, but I did wedge a little more science into this piece.

Unusual Instruments: Night of the Swallow

Kate Bush: Night of the Swallow

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In the 1980s, synthesizers reached a level of sophistication that allowed musicians to add texture to their songs by creating unusual sounds and tones. But this could be done before the 1980s by using instruments that sounded odd in context. Even now, some musicians prefer to use instruments old and new out of context to enrich their music. This week, we will be presenting some of this music, and seeing how context can matter. We may also feature some instruments you (or I) have never even heard of before.

To start, here is Kate Bush‘s song Night of the Swallow. Bush‘s synthesizer of choice on her 1982 album The Dreaming was the Fairlight, and she got some great sounds out of it. But Bush also used other instruments. Night of the Swallow starts with a slow section that has a fairly normal arrangement. But the faster section on the chorus has this high-pitched instrument that you might think at first is a fiddle. You would be partly right. It doesn‘t sound quite like a fiddle because the line is doubled, played in unison by a fiddle and the uillean pipes. The uillean pipes are the smaller Irish cousin of the Scottish bagpipes. Like the bagpipes, the uilean pipes are used in traditional Irish folk music. By now, some Celtic rock groups are also using them, but Kate Bush in 1982 was one of the first to use them in a rock context.

Pipes and Woodwinds: The Dreaming

Kate Bush: The Dreaming

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If you don’t know what to listen for, you might say that there are no pipes or woodwinds in The Dreaming. There is, however, a strange bass drone that starts the song, and if you listen carefully, you will find that that drone modulates and continues throughout the song. That is the sound of the didgeridoo. The didgeridoo may be the only musical instrument that is made by insects. The Aborigines of Australia find logs that have been hollowed out by termites, and they then put the finishing touches in to get the didgeridoo to sound perfect. The resulting instrument was traditionally played in rituals to induce the trance known as the dreamtime. That is the basis of Kate Bush’s song, although I do not think that her take on it is very authentic.

Mothers: Mother Stands For Comfort

Kate Bush: Mother Stands For Comfort

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A mother’s love is a thing of great power. You hear of mothers who are suddenly able to lift cars, because they believe their child lies beneath. As Kate Bush sees it here, a mother protects her child, no matter what he may have done. “Mother will hide the murderer. Mother will hide the madman.” Bush apparently meant for this song to be taken literally.

The melody and some of the instrumental lines have a hymn like quality. But other parts are disorienting. There are odd sound effects, and the music overall has an otherworldly feel. This all creates a dramatic tension that is very powerful.

Oh, before I leave you, let me take a moment to thank David and Geoviki for answering the call, and making sure I had this to post.

1989: Three More

I would love to have time for three more posts this week, but I don’t. Each of these songs and their albums are worthy of a full post of their own. But I certainly didn’t want to leave any of them out.

Kate Bush: The Sensual World

[purchase]

Mmmmm... yes! I have mentioned elsewhere that Kate Bush’s work with Peter Gabriel inspired her to become more creative, freeing her to incorporate various elements that she had never before considered into her own music. For me, 1989 represented one of the finest results of that process. The album The Sensual World found her adding elements of Celtic music into her sound, and also working with traditional singers from Hungary. Bush stirred it all together, and what resulted sounded like nothing else, but it all made sense. And, for my money, the song The Sensual World is one of the sexiest songs ever recorded.

Lyle Lovett and His Large Band: Here I Am

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During the 1980s, Lyle Lovett went through a process of his own. He started the decade making music that somewhat related to country, and both he and his label hoped he would breakthrough on the country charts. But Lyle Lovett was always to quirky for that to happen. By 1989, he and his label had decided to stop trying, and Lovett was free to make whatever music he wanted to. So 1989 marked the recorded debut of his large band.

Lovett added horns to his sound, and the fans he had won stayed with him. His quirkiness came to the fore. Here I Am is certainly a song he would not have tried to pitch to Nashville, but it highlights his wonderful sense of humor, and the musicianship of the band is on full display.

Jane Siberry: Everything Reminds Me of My Dog

[purchase]

!989 saw the release of Bound By The Beauty, by Jane Siberry. By now, Siberry was already known for her surreal lyrics and imaginative musical settings. And Bound By The Beauty did not disappoint. But Everything Reminds Me of My Dog is relatively straightforward. And the song has been a favorite in our house ever since it was released.

Duets: Don’t Give Up

Peter Gabriel (with Kate Bush): Don‘t Give Up

[purchase]

Peter Gabriel asked Kate Bush to Sing backup for him on the song Games Without Frontiers. He must have been pleased with the results, because he asked her back for Don’t Give Up. Unlike the earlier song, Don’t Give Up is a true duet, with each voice part having equal importance.

Here, Gabriel sings the part of a man at a low point in his life, a man in despair. Most duets would have Bush singing the part of a new or prospective lover, come to make everything right. But Peter Gabriel has done something a little different; Bush sings the part of a sort of Greek chorus of friends and/or family, who reassure him that he still has people who care about him. By the end of the song, this support group has brought him to a much better emotional state.

So Don’t Give Up is an unusual duet for the role that Kate Bush portrays. And it is ultimately a hopeful song, making it the perfect transition song from our previous theme.

Trick or Treat: Babooshka

A babushka is the traditional head scarf worn by Russian women, and by the nesting dolls shown here.

Kate Bush: Babooshka

[purchase]

Kate Bush broke onto the British music scene while still in her teens. (Does this sound like anyone you’ve heard about recently? Apparently, it happens all the time over there.) Bush’s first two albums were full of lush, to my ears way over-produced, romantic ballads. The quintessential example was “Wuthering Heights.” Bush could have continued in this vein forever, and her record company would have been happy.

But Peter Gabriel has always heard things no one else can, and Kate Bush’s voice was no exception. Gabriel hired her to sing the backing vocals on “Games Without Frontiers”, and she evidently stayed around for some of Gabriel’s recording sessions. There she encountered possibilities for what music could be that had apparently never occurred to her before. And she has embraced those possibilities and run with them ever since.

“Babooshka” comes from Kate Bush’s third album, Never Forever. The liner notes include the dedication, “To Peter Gabriel, for opening the windows.” The song is a “trick”; I will leave the rest to the listener.

Footwear: Red shoes edition

We've already had two posts on red shoes (Loretta Lynn's Little Red Shoes and Elvis Costello's Red Shoes), but there are plenty more out there. Quite why the fascination with red I do not know, but it's certainly a popular colour when it comes to footwear songs! I like to think, as a 'friend of Dorothy' that it's all about the magical ruby slippers in The Wizard of Oz...but, then again, perhaps not.

Whilst there are a load of songs about red shoes in particular, possibly the most famous 'shoe song' features a different colour...I'm truly surprised that no-one has posted it yet!

Chris Rea: Red Shoes [purchase]
(Not so much because it's a great song as because he comes from my home town!)

Tom Waits: Red Shoes By the Drugstore [purchase]

Sawyer Brown: Ruby Red Shoes [purchase]

Elton John: Ballad of the Boy in the Red Shoes [purchase]

Kate Bush: The Red Shoes [purchase]

Throwing Muses: Red Shoes [purchase]

David Bowie: Let's Dance [purchase]



N.B. The Raincoats also did a song called Red Shoes, but it's pretty awful, so that's why I didn't include it here!

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