Thursday, 13 February 2020
Ten Karaoke Songs for People Who Absolutely Cannot Sing
There are two types of people in this world. There are those, like my step-nan Jackie, who have to have the microphone prised from their clutches after yet another rambunctious rendition of La Bamba. And then there are those – the introverts, the fatally self-conscious and the simply godawful singers amongst us – who freeze with terror at the sheer mention of the dreaded K word: karaoke. This list is for the latter group.
Karaoke – arguably Japan’s greatest cultural export – doesn’t have to be a source of dread. In fact, research has shown that a good karaoke sesh has a surprising number of health benefits, including reduced stress levels, boosted endorphins and even a reduction in blood pressure. Not to mention, it’s just good fun. No one wants to be a spoilsport, so here’s a selection of great tunes you can sing along to shame-free at your next work party.
Shake it Off by Taylor Swift
Simple and upbeat, this modern karaoke classic is a real crowd pleaser. This one’s more about having a good time than delivering a powerhouse performance, so you can wow your audience with your fun-loving attitude if nothing else!
Livin’ La Vida Loca by Ricky Martin
Ditto this catchy little hit by the King of Latin Pop. Everyone will be having such a good time that your vocals are the last thing they’ll notice.
Islands in the Stream by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers
This is surprisingly easy to sing and requires a duet partner, so the heat won’t be all on you. It’s practically impossible to feel self-conscious with this classic feelgood tune.
Bubbly by Colbie Caillat
This is just such a sweet and simple song that anyone can sing. You shouldn’t have much trouble with this one.
Angels by Robbie Williams
You’ll get approximately two seconds into this song before everyone joins in and your voice gets drowned out, which makes it the perfect karaoke song for the tone deaf and timid.
Achy Breaky Heart by Billy Ray Cyrus
Or really any classic country song. Just put on an embarrassing Tennessee accent (even if you’re from Luton) and you’ll fool all your friends into thinking you’re a country prodigy.
Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus
A guilty pleasure for basically everyone under 50, the vocals are pretty easy and you’ll have great fun performing it.
Waterloo by Abba
It is a truth universally acknowledged that no karaoke night is complete without at least one Abba song. Honestly, any of their songs are a pretty solid bet but, as someone who loves them both ironically and non-ironically, Waterloo is the perfect combo of fan favourite and easy to sing.
Up the Junction by Squeeze
The beauty of this song is that it can be 'sung' by pretty much anyone. It's a 'talkie' and to be honest, the worse your vocals, the more authentic it sounds.
Sumer Nights by John Travolta and Olivia Newton John
If my own experiences are anything to go by, you'll start this duet with one Sandy and one Danny. Pretty soon, though, the rest of your friends won't be able to resist adding to the numbers until you inevitably have two fully fledged groups, the Pink Ladies and the T-birds, both giving it all the sass they have. It doesn't matter if you're any good because that's not the point, you know?
Monday, 13 January 2020 / music
Monday Playlist: Inspired by... The Girls
An intoxicating, sun-soaked fever dream, Emma Cline's The Girls was loosely based on the Manson Family and follows a teenage girl who gets sucked into a murderous, hippie cult in 1969. It was the hit novel of the year when it was released in 2016 and brought a new wave of literary interest in late-60s Hollywood (see: Once Upon a Time in Hollywood)
Heroin - Lana Del Rey
The only modern song on this list, Heroin still feels like the most natural fit. With lines like 'Topanga's hot today/ Manson's in the air' and 'something about this sun has made these kids get scary/ writing in blood on the walls and shit' perfectly conjures up visions of sizzling sun, cult worship and endless California hills.
The End - The Doors
This song sounds like pure evil to me. It's like a bad trip. A twelve minute epic, this otherworldly track goes on a psychedelic journey with Jim Morrison hollering about killing his parents before finally ending with 'kill! kill! kill!' It's an incredible song, but it's about as nightmarish as popular music gets. You could absolutely see someone like Charles Manson latching onto this song back in the 1960s.
Helter Skelter - The Beatles
This is a cracking song by the Fab Four, and it's a shame it's been marred by the Manson story. The killers famously wrote the title (as well as another of their tunes, Piggies) on the walls in their victims' blood, believing Helter Skelter to be code for a race war that would ravage the earth. Aside from that unfortunate legacy, it's also famous for potentially being the first heavy metal song.
Rejoyce - Jefferson Airplane
A spookily hypnotic psychedelic track, this is the perfect fit for a book about a man who cast a psychological spell so strong that teenage girls were willing to kill for him.
Summer in the City - The Lovin' Spoonful
The Girls is one of those novels where the setting is another character. The intense heat of the California summer is an integral part of the book, and it's evoked fantastically in this psychedelic pop anthem.
You Only Live Twice - Nancy Sinatra
The sweeping instrumentation and intriguing vocals of this classic Bond theme give it a real Hollywood vibe that fits perfectly with the book. The book begins as bored teenager Evie becomes obsessed with a stranger called Suzanne, who ultimately initiates her into the killer cult, so the lyrics are a great fit: 'love is a stranger who'll beckon you on/ don't think of the danger'.
Hurdy Gurdy Man - Donovan
I don't know whether it's just the inclusion on the Zodiac and The Conjuring soundtracks, but this song has always given me serial killer vibes. It sounds so dark and unsettling, it's hard to believe it's actually about a flower child/street musician who 'comes singing songs of love'. Either way, it's both classic Sixties and super creepy, which makes it the ideal choice for a playlist inspired by a Hippie murder cult!
Saturday, 9 November 2019 / music, playlist
New Playlist: Dream Logic
A dreamy, offbeat mix of nostalgia and surreal charm—perfect for getting lost in thought or drifting through golden-hour haze.
2. One Great Song and I Could Change The World - Swim Deep
3. Sound and Vision - David Bowie
4. Catherine - PJ Harvey
5. Oblivion - Grimes
6. #9 Dream - John Lennon
7. What a Feeling - One Direction
8. We're All Mad Here - Tom Waits
9. Jardin du Luxembourg - Ghost of a Saber Toothed Tiger
10. Honeymoon - Lana Del Rey
11. Ram On - Paul McCartney
6. #9 Dream - John Lennon
7. What a Feeling - One Direction
8. We're All Mad Here - Tom Waits
9. Jardin du Luxembourg - Ghost of a Saber Toothed Tiger
10. Honeymoon - Lana Del Rey
11. Ram On - Paul McCartney
12. Sea, Swallow Me - Cocteau Twins
Thursday, 6 September 2018 / lists, music
Four Albums That Make Me Smile
When I conceived the idea for this post, I had a long list of albums by the likes of The Rolling Stones and Neil Young. David Bowie, The Slits, Hole and Whitney were on there too. But as I started to write, I realised I wanted to share albums with a story attached, a memory, and not just my favourites (which is a tie between Revolver and Abbey Road, by the way). Records that pull you out of the here-and-now and snap you right back into a different phase of your life, the way catching a whiff of a certain perfume on a passing stranger does. So out went Exile on Main Street and Harvest - that last one hurt a lot - and in came this nostalgia-inducing quartet. Look, no Beatles!
1. Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Cole Porter Songbook - Ella Fitzgerald
I'm a night writer, for sure. I used to spend a lot of my nights in the library - not for the books, of which there were surprisingly few, but for a quiet place to write without distraction. I'd usually sleep all day, and then walk to the library, a few streets away from my grubby flat, at about 10pm. It was almost always raining, and so I'd turn up with a tangle of black curls on top of my head and eyeliner dripping down my cheeks. I probably looked like a ghost from a Japanese horror movie.
My routine was always the same: I'd grab myself some coffee from the Starbucks machine in the corner, then find the most secluded desk, preferably a booth. I liked the first floor best because you could eat and drink there. The rules became stricter on each floor - you couldn't eat on the second, but you could drink as long as it was from a bottle with a lid. Absolutely no food or drink permitted on the third. As long as the first floor had coffee machines and a vending machine stocked with toffee cookies, I was all good. Unfortunately, the rules on noise also increased by floor, and so I was on the loudest and most unregulated. No matter, that's why earphones were invented.
As soon as the dinosaur of a computer had turned on, I'd pop on some music. If I needed to get into a certain mood to write, I'd pick something more specific (The Shining soundtrack is excellent for horror and dread) but otherwise I'd set up Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Cole Porter Songbook on Youtube, and get to work. To this day, the album still reminds me of those rainy, carefree nights.
2. Ultraviolence - Lana Del Rey
I remember hearing this and thinking, here is a future classic. I'm 85% sure Ultraviolence will come to be regarded as a masterpiece of modern times, and it makes me feel pretty damn smug to have called it. I hadn't expected much. I wasn't a Born to Die fan, and Paradise was merely good (though I loved Ride, and Gods & Monsters and American were decent). I didn't even like Ultraviolence when I first heard it. It was slow and boring and all the songs sounded the same. And then one day, I just got it. It's an incredible throwback to the Sixties and Seventies, when albums were a thirty five minute experience and not just a collection of singles. Not that Ultraviolence is without its standout tracks; Shades of Cool is the greatest, weirdest Bond song that never was, and West Coast was the best single of 2014.
With this album, Lana has proven not only her fantastic voice, but her ability to use it to manipulate the listener, evoking any damn feeling or mood she wants. At times she is whispery and vulnerable, purring with affected sensuality, at others slow and dripping with braggadocio. To me, this is what makes a great singer - it has nothing to do with vocal range or hitting the high notes. Her vocal delivery tells as much of the story as her lyrics. And I love characters in pop music. From Prince to Gaga to Bowie, they just make an overplayed game more interesting.
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3. LA Woman - The Doors
Liverpool isn't much like Los Angeles. God knows why this album brings me back to wandering the streets of Scouseland at night. I listened to it on my midnight wanders, sure, but I also listened to the I Love You, Beth Cooper soundtrack and Drake Bell. So why does LA Woman yank up memories of traipsing to the Tesco Express round the corner for pizza, red wine and cans of Monster, before spending the night locked in my shitty room, alternating writing and staring at the walls I'd turned into huge mood boards? (Not mentioned: paranoid Google searches of 'can you OD on energy drinks?' at 3am.)
Something about hearing Jim Morrison growling DRIVING DOWN YOUR FREEWAY and Ray Manzarek hitting those keys livens me up from the inside. My brain associates The Doors with nervous, rampant energy and manic creativity. They sort of induce a caffeine-like effect on my system. That's the kind of focus their music gives me; it increases productivity, enhances concentration and energises my soul. To be honest, I probably could have left the Monster on the shelf at Tesco and saved myself a couple of quid and a few hours worth of anxiety. Oh, and yes, energy drinks can kill you. And yes, I'd consumed a potentially fatal amount of caffeine. RISIN', RISIN'.
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4. In Utero - Nirvana
The ugly, elitist side of me considered skipping this one from the list. It seemed too obvious, and there are so many fake fans out there. You know who I mean: the ones who buy smiley-faced Nirvana t-shirts at Forever 21, tie a flannel shirt around their waists and call themselves a 'huge fan'. The ones who think it's super-cool Kurt killed himself. I really don't want to be lumped in with these people. But you know what's lamer than pretending to like a band for the cool points? Pretending not to for the cool points. And so In Utero enters the list.
I was always a casual Nirvana fan, but it wasn't until my first year of university I really began to listen. I'd spend my days either sleeping or exploring the city after lectures (or during - my attendance record wasn't the best), and by night I'd either write or get out on the streets to listen to music and people watch. I like the vibe of night better. People are different. I was living just off Hope Street, and opposite my flat was the Metropolitan Cathedral. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I'd climb up the stairs in front of the cathedral and sit at the top. You could see the whole city from up there. I'd drink 45p cans of knockoff Vimto and watch the night fall over Liverpool. Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle came on shuffle, and for the first time, I really heard the lyric 'I miss the comfort in being sad'. and yet it was exactly how I'd been feeling for years, ever since I 'trained' myself not to be depressed. This might seem a strange reason for inclusion on a list of albums that make me smile. But in that moment, high up above Liverpool and as physically alone as you can be in the city, I felt that someone else knew how I feel.
People talk about pain and depression as if it will make you some great artist. As if your work will be infected with originality and a special rawness. As if depression is okay because it has an up side, too. But how can art ever be raw when depression dulls the depth of feeling until I'm no longer capable of expressing myself at all, artistically or otherwise? I think that's why I latched on to Nirvana so hard after that night at the Met. Kurt was singing these things and expressing everything for me, because I was unable to do it myself.
1. Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Cole Porter Songbook - Ella Fitzgerald
I'm a night writer, for sure. I used to spend a lot of my nights in the library - not for the books, of which there were surprisingly few, but for a quiet place to write without distraction. I'd usually sleep all day, and then walk to the library, a few streets away from my grubby flat, at about 10pm. It was almost always raining, and so I'd turn up with a tangle of black curls on top of my head and eyeliner dripping down my cheeks. I probably looked like a ghost from a Japanese horror movie.
My routine was always the same: I'd grab myself some coffee from the Starbucks machine in the corner, then find the most secluded desk, preferably a booth. I liked the first floor best because you could eat and drink there. The rules became stricter on each floor - you couldn't eat on the second, but you could drink as long as it was from a bottle with a lid. Absolutely no food or drink permitted on the third. As long as the first floor had coffee machines and a vending machine stocked with toffee cookies, I was all good. Unfortunately, the rules on noise also increased by floor, and so I was on the loudest and most unregulated. No matter, that's why earphones were invented.
As soon as the dinosaur of a computer had turned on, I'd pop on some music. If I needed to get into a certain mood to write, I'd pick something more specific (The Shining soundtrack is excellent for horror and dread) but otherwise I'd set up Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Cole Porter Songbook on Youtube, and get to work. To this day, the album still reminds me of those rainy, carefree nights.
2. Ultraviolence - Lana Del Rey
I remember hearing this and thinking, here is a future classic. I'm 85% sure Ultraviolence will come to be regarded as a masterpiece of modern times, and it makes me feel pretty damn smug to have called it. I hadn't expected much. I wasn't a Born to Die fan, and Paradise was merely good (though I loved Ride, and Gods & Monsters and American were decent). I didn't even like Ultraviolence when I first heard it. It was slow and boring and all the songs sounded the same. And then one day, I just got it. It's an incredible throwback to the Sixties and Seventies, when albums were a thirty five minute experience and not just a collection of singles. Not that Ultraviolence is without its standout tracks; Shades of Cool is the greatest, weirdest Bond song that never was, and West Coast was the best single of 2014.
3. LA Woman - The Doors
Liverpool isn't much like Los Angeles. God knows why this album brings me back to wandering the streets of Scouseland at night. I listened to it on my midnight wanders, sure, but I also listened to the I Love You, Beth Cooper soundtrack and Drake Bell. So why does LA Woman yank up memories of traipsing to the Tesco Express round the corner for pizza, red wine and cans of Monster, before spending the night locked in my shitty room, alternating writing and staring at the walls I'd turned into huge mood boards? (Not mentioned: paranoid Google searches of 'can you OD on energy drinks?' at 3am.)
Something about hearing Jim Morrison growling DRIVING DOWN YOUR FREEWAY and Ray Manzarek hitting those keys livens me up from the inside. My brain associates The Doors with nervous, rampant energy and manic creativity. They sort of induce a caffeine-like effect on my system. That's the kind of focus their music gives me; it increases productivity, enhances concentration and energises my soul. To be honest, I probably could have left the Monster on the shelf at Tesco and saved myself a couple of quid and a few hours worth of anxiety. Oh, and yes, energy drinks can kill you. And yes, I'd consumed a potentially fatal amount of caffeine. RISIN', RISIN'.
4. In Utero - Nirvana
The ugly, elitist side of me considered skipping this one from the list. It seemed too obvious, and there are so many fake fans out there. You know who I mean: the ones who buy smiley-faced Nirvana t-shirts at Forever 21, tie a flannel shirt around their waists and call themselves a 'huge fan'. The ones who think it's super-cool Kurt killed himself. I really don't want to be lumped in with these people. But you know what's lamer than pretending to like a band for the cool points? Pretending not to for the cool points. And so In Utero enters the list.
I was always a casual Nirvana fan, but it wasn't until my first year of university I really began to listen. I'd spend my days either sleeping or exploring the city after lectures (or during - my attendance record wasn't the best), and by night I'd either write or get out on the streets to listen to music and people watch. I like the vibe of night better. People are different. I was living just off Hope Street, and opposite my flat was the Metropolitan Cathedral. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I'd climb up the stairs in front of the cathedral and sit at the top. You could see the whole city from up there. I'd drink 45p cans of knockoff Vimto and watch the night fall over Liverpool. Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle came on shuffle, and for the first time, I really heard the lyric 'I miss the comfort in being sad'. and yet it was exactly how I'd been feeling for years, ever since I 'trained' myself not to be depressed. This might seem a strange reason for inclusion on a list of albums that make me smile. But in that moment, high up above Liverpool and as physically alone as you can be in the city, I felt that someone else knew how I feel.
People talk about pain and depression as if it will make you some great artist. As if your work will be infected with originality and a special rawness. As if depression is okay because it has an up side, too. But how can art ever be raw when depression dulls the depth of feeling until I'm no longer capable of expressing myself at all, artistically or otherwise? I think that's why I latched on to Nirvana so hard after that night at the Met. Kurt was singing these things and expressing everything for me, because I was unable to do it myself.
Friday, 1 June 2018 / film, review
Forgotten Film Friday: After Dark, My Sweet
Back before Jason Patric was fighting for dads’ rights, he was busy brooding in James Foley’s sun-bleached noir. A poetic and strangely hypnotic take on the classic genre, After Dark, My Sweet is a slow-boiling poker game of a film.
Patric’s drifter, Collie, hot out of the mental institute, is picked up by alcoholic widow Fay (Rachel Ward) in a bar. Allowing him to live in a trailer at the bottom of her dried up yard, the pair soon become caught up in a kidnapping plot. Orchestrating the clumsy scheme is Uncle Bud, played with creepy flair by Bruce Dern. When the trio finally manage to steal the right child, things quickly disintegrate and they begin to question their trust in each other.
Patric gives the performance of his career as the mixed up ex-boxer; the shrewdness and aptitude for violence Collie represses fights to break out from under his veil of restraint and dim-witted sensitivity. Ward, the femme fatale to his smoldering anti-hero, is as alluring and tragic as the noir heroines that precede her. The sunny colour palette and Palm Springs setting freshen up the moody, paranoid tones and taut sexual tension that pervade the narrative. A feverishly sensuous film that artfully taps into human loneliness, After Dark, My Sweet has been overlooked for too long. This is an absolute gem and a solid entry in the neo-noir genre.
Thursday, 10 May 2018 / john lennon, music
Ten Underappreciated John Lennon songs
...because there's more to the Smart Beatle than just Imagine, you know?
Steel and Glass (from Walls
and Bridges)
Probably the only song in Lennon's catalogue to
rival the better-known How Do You Sleep in nastiness, Steel
and Glass is a delightfully seething fuck-you to his former manager,
Allen Klein. With cruel lines like 'your mother left you when you were small /
but you're gonna wish you weren't born at all', John's at his best when he's
angry, and boy is he angry here.
I'm Losing You (from Double
Fantasy)
This is undoubtedly one of Lennon's best-written
songs. His fear and confusion about his relationship with Yoko Ono manifests
itself, as it so often does, as anger in this intense, paranoid gem from his
final album. The sound is so tight, so tense, that listening to it evokes
anxiety in me. Great vocals, too!
I Know (I Know) (from Mind
Games)
He dismissed this song as a 'piece of nothing',
but it's a top-five Lennon track for me. Something I find in a lot of his more
ostensibly tender songs, like Oh Yoko! and Grow Old
With Me, is an underlying sadness and pain, though it's possible I'm
allowing his eventual murder to colour my perception, of course. I hear it in
this song too, which sounds so bittersweet to me. Lennon uses simple statements
- 'no more crying, no more crying', 'today, I love you more than yesterday' -
to convey deeper themes such as forgiveness and empathy. I like the theory that
he wrote this for Paul - it wouldn't be the first time he referenced Beatles
songs (Yesterday, Getting Better) to send him a message (see: How
Do You Sleep).
Surprise, Surprise (Sweet
Bird of Paradox) (from Walls and Bridges)
No one ever talks about this song! It definitely
misses the powerful emotion that drives some of his better-received tracks
like Mother and God, but what it lacks in
intensity, it makes up for in groove and fun. Whilst distinctly
Lennon-sounding, the lyrics are almost Paul McCartney-esque ('just like a
willow tree/ a breath of spring you see). Plus it's got Elton John on backing
vocals! Definitely not his best or most powerful track, but a very entertaining
listen nonetheless.
You Are Here (from Mind
Games)
This is one of his most relaxed, pretty songs.
When I think of his post-Beatles career, I tend to think more of songs like
this and Bless You - vaguely philosophical, meandering tracks
- than rockier numbers like Cold Turkey and Remember. He
famously hated his singing voice, but the raw thinness of it works well with
this kind of song.
Remember (from John
Lennon/Plastic Ono Band)
So many of Lennon's best songs are based around
one word, almost like a mantra: Imagine, God, Love,
Isolation, Woman, Mother and this one, Remember. I always
forget how good this one is until I hear it. Perfectly placed on the album
right before the much softer Love, the juxtaposition is
beautiful and disorienting. Great drumming from Ringo on this one, too!
Nobody Told Me (from Milk
and Honey)
I love this song! It's much less vulnerable than
most of his songs, but doesn't suffer for it. Taking inspiration from classic
poetry - and his own UFO sighting! - it's a jaunty little tune that was
originally meant for Ringo Starr. Calling a top-five hit 'underrated' could be
a bit of a stretch, but the song seems to have been largely forgotten with
time.
Out The Blue (from Mind
Games)
You can probably tell I'm a big Mind
Games fan. This serene, grateful song is less emotionally searing
than most of his songs, but doesn’t suffer for it at all. This type of song is
underrated in the Lennon canon in favour of louder songs like Instant Karma, not least of all by John
himself. Lyrics such as ‘it had to be – two minds, one destiny’ and ‘I survived
long enough to make you my wife’ express the very Lennon-esque sentiment that
he was awakened or ‘saved’ by Yoko and their love for each other.
Look at Me (from Plastic Ono Band)
I love the ethereal double-tracked vocals on
this pretty song. He’s vulnerable, asking for help and begging ‘please look at
me, my love’. He’s pleading for guidance with lyrics such as ‘here I am. What
am I supposed to do?’ It’s something I find so interesting about Lennon. He was
so opinionated, so self-centred, so uninterested in what anyone else thought,
and yet it’s clear from his songs that he looks for validation from others,
particularly women.
Hold On (from Plastic Ono Band)
This could have easily made it onto The Beatles’
Let It Be album. The bass line is
fantastic, while the simple, universal message of ‘hold on, it’s going to be
all right’ is surprisingly positive for such a lyrically bleak album. People
always talk about John’s ability as a lyricist, but in many ways, I think he’s
actually underrated in that department; he has the rare gift of being able to
say so much by saying so little. Think of songs like Strawberry Fields Forever –‘no one, I think, is in my tree’ may be
my favourite line in any song.
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