Author: Aria

 

10cc was a British Band from back when history began in the late 60s.

This piece came out, what, 40 years ago? 50 maybe?
Okay, looking it up: 1975.

People still alive from back then were either kids or now wish they were.
I mean anyone who was a grownup from back then is one of the geezers everyone else talks back to with Okay, Boomer!

And it’s really beautiful. Listen.

1975? That’s 45 years.

So it was a long, long time ago.

And that’s what’s amazing. It would be a creative masterpiece if it was made today. Back then, with no PC software, with today’s PCs still a dream or two away, they MacGyvered it together.

They wanted a voice choral sort of background, but they only had four guys. So the one closest to a techno-whiz semi-synced up a dozen tapes of the four to run at the same time, looped and staggered so the break in each would be be drowned out by the eleven others.

The last piece fell into place when their secretary (the band had a secretary?) whispered a message. They decided on the spot that her whispered voice in the middle of the song would be perfect.

What gets to the residual pre-teen romantic in me is how the thing started. The wife of band member Eric Stewart complained that he didn’t say he loved her, at least not enough.

So he thought of a way to express a sort of helpless love expressed in denial.
So I’m Not In Love.

Want to see the words?

Click on: MetroLyrics

 

So who doesn’t like Judith Hill?

She released this piece last year. I loved the music: the powerful energetic vocals you’d kind of expect from her.

And yet – – – –

The disconnect with anything that’s real, that matters, was stunning to me.

Upscale all the way. A well dressed young man comes out of his room to follow the sound and exits an exclusive hotel dancing down, riding down, carried down, the clean clean street of bright lights through the night until he finds the singer in an expensive dance club.

With video filmed in Thailand because, Judith says in interviews, she always wanted to go there.
Well, who among us hasn’t done that?

The words were fluff. Everything will be okay if we all think positive thoughts and just look for the best.
Magical images in our minds will cut all the chains, so we also can ride to the very top.

Prosperity gospel with a heavy beat.
A wealthy person’s advice to the oppressed.

Or so it seemed a year ago.
Then came 2020, the year from hell. Made worse by a President who tries to make Satan envious.

Okay, so maybe I can get on board with something a little positive. I’ll go with the dancey fancy fantasy.
If it gets a little much, well, I can go with the energy and power of the music.
Good, great sound.

Want to see the words? Here ya go.

 

I heard Jessie Reyez a couple years ago. A new song and new style in a shock title Fuck It. (Sorry Mom). It was sound effects and poetry. It was an almost-song backed by instruments. So I said That’s different and I turned round and went to sleep.

Not interested.

But I heard a few things and caught on a little. She does great eclectic with bop or hop or R&B or guitar, or some combo. A lot of it is rap or near-rap. A lot of it has a lot of Latin in it.

And she has a way with lyrics. Her parents are Colombian so she sings about being imported.

She does interviews. I looked her up.

She uses a little retro slang. They were dope. The song was really dope. The experience was dope. She describes the reaction of her elementary school teacher to something she wrote as a child: That’s dope. Really? A teacher: Hey lil girl, that’s dope.

But she’s self-aware and engaging as hell. What she says about herself makes sense. She doesn’t try to evoke emotion, but listeners get emotional, they feel it. She just sings what she experiences. She has an ugly romantic breakup and sings about betrayal and heartache. She gets sick and sings pain. A car accident? Sing a crash.

Same when she sings about social issues. It’s only as a sort of side-effect based on a personal event. Some recording manager goes beyond hitting on her for a little lovemaking, threatening her budding career unless she graces his bed. She tells him off in song that happens to be inspiring in its feminism.

Immigration the same. She sings about not belonging.

I don’t know what got her to this piece. I just like the style and power and words.

I especially like the joyful feminism here. The change ups in style are playful (Let’s pause for a pretty little moment), the very end is fun. Made me laugh.

You do want the words.

 

Jay-Z is the most popular rap artist ever. Everybody who matters loves the way he moves rap into and out of accompanying music. Which actually means, I guess, that I love the way he makes the music part of the rap. He moves rhythm and rhyme into words from the heart that just happen to rhyme. That’s art.

That’s what made Jay-Z into JAY-Z.

So when he introduced Hannah Williams to the world, and did it as part of his musical apology to Beyoncé, it was worth waiting for her own work.

Hannah Williams & The Affirmations are a British band with music described as retro-rock or retro-soul or rock or soul. I hear more than a touch of gospel, but maybe I’m just possessed.

I just like what I hear.

Want to see the words?

I can’t find them. We just have to listen, I guess.
Worth it, don’t ya think?

 

Moonlight Breakfast is a band I really wanted to like.

The have a great story. They’re a Romanian band who met in Bucharest in 2011 and had five rehearsals before a huge concert at a popular resort. They’re hard to classify, which is one reason I’d like to like them. Are they jazz? Soul? Electro? Alternative pop? Something else?

My Baby was about being hurt and taking on the power to move on. I tried to like it. Really.

A couple of other songs, and I gave up.

Then I stumbled across this. It’s a nothing song about a young woman wanting to drive her boyfriend to where they can be alone. The words don’t really matter. The casual, effortless music is it’s own point.

Now I can like them.

For real.

Here are some words.

 

This was the epic theme ending the movie Gladiator. the score was written by German producer Hans Zimmer. I listened to this rendition by the Lithuanian group Indigo for years before watching the video. I’m glad I finally saw it.
 
It is a wonderful choral arrangement that fits the intended mood: an epic return by a General, who is brought down, sold into slavery, then struggles to return and eventually sacrifices himself for justice.
 
At the end of the choral video, an unidentified man singing from a wheelchair pretty much brings the curtain down.

The words are from a private personal language invented by Australian composer Lisa Gerrard that she has developed since childhood. Their meaning is a mystery, at least to me. They simply lend the beautiful music an authentic flavor.