A documentary about pop stars who are still haunted by their one big hit was a delight and a revelation
*How I … Learned to Love My Albatross* (Radio 4) | iPlayer
*God's Trombone: Remembering King's Dream* (Radio 4) | iPlayer
WBEZ Chicago
OK, then. Summer's over. Back to school. New bag, new haircut, new pinchy shoes and off we go… If you need cheering up, if The Fear is lurking, waiting to pounce this evening, then I have some uplifting listening for you. First up, music writer Pete Paphides' programme, *How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love My Albatross*. Just a half-hour documentary, but what a lovely one. Paphides, a man who gives songwriters exactly the right amount of respect they deserve (meaning: a lot, but not so much as to preclude teasing), talked to musicians who have had one big hit. A massive smash that overshadows the rest of their work; a song that their fans will always shout for, whenever they play a gig, no matter what else the musician wants them to hear. Ralph McTell (Streets of London), Mike Batt (The Wombling Song), Altered Images' Clare Grogan (Happy Birthday) and Colin Vearncombe aka Black (Wonderful Life) all shared their methods of dealing with a situation that most of us might regard as a privilege, but, for them, has become... an albatross.
I relish a pop theory almost as much as I relish a pop manifesto, and Paphides had a theory about what happens to One Big Hit pop stars. And it was that they go through the stages of grief: denial, bargaining, anger, depression, acceptance. This was a revelation, not only to the listener but to the musicians themselves – McTell called it "extremely illuminating"– and led to some delightful interviews. McTell admitted that he wouldn't let his record label mention Streets of London on the cover of his Spiral Staircase album, which featured it. Grogan refused to sing Happy Birthday for 18 years and ran out of any shop that played it in the background. Mike Batt pointed out, rather poignantly, that if David Bowie had made an album of Laughing Gnome-type songs then Bowie would be the Laughing Gnome bloke, in the same way that Batt is the Womble guy. "I wanted to be taken seriously by my record company," said Batt. "As if anyone could ever take a Womble seriously."
It's funny how, when you're young, you believe that pop is only for your generation. I love it even more now I'm older, now the lyrics take on different meanings, now I know that musicians are not only living gods who make a PVC onesie look like appealing casualwear but also human beings. And I loved this programme.
There was also much to love about Radio 4's extensive coverage of Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech, which he gave 50 years ago last Wednesday. I enjoyed it all, but especially Gary Younge's suitably serious take, *God's Trombone: Remembering King's Dream*, where we heard from King's speechwriters, and learned that singer Mahalia Jackson was the one who shouted to King, as his speech was winding down, "Tell 'em about the dream!" Here, too, Younge offered an interesting take that led to revelations from his interviewees. He believes that we have remembered Martin Luther King as the "I Have a Dream" guy – his one big hit – because colour segregation has been successfully eradicated in the US. But his desire to alleviate poverty and his more political anti-Vietnam agenda are not remembered, as these problems have not been solved.
As an adjunct to the BBC's Dr King coverage, try a little gem from *WBEZ Chicago*. They have unearthed a long-lost recording of Archibald Carey, a Chicago preacher who was in his prime a decade before King's speech. Carey spoke at the 1952 Republican convention, and when you hear the distinctive, rousing crescendo about freedom that he delivers at the end of his speech, you realise that it was appropriated – sampled – by Dr King in Washington 10 years later. Not plagiarism, exactly, as it was the habit of black preachers to reference each other at the time. Popularism, then, and very interesting to hear. Reported by guardian.co.uk 13 hours ago.
*How I … Learned to Love My Albatross* (Radio 4) | iPlayer
*God's Trombone: Remembering King's Dream* (Radio 4) | iPlayer
WBEZ Chicago
OK, then. Summer's over. Back to school. New bag, new haircut, new pinchy shoes and off we go… If you need cheering up, if The Fear is lurking, waiting to pounce this evening, then I have some uplifting listening for you. First up, music writer Pete Paphides' programme, *How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love My Albatross*. Just a half-hour documentary, but what a lovely one. Paphides, a man who gives songwriters exactly the right amount of respect they deserve (meaning: a lot, but not so much as to preclude teasing), talked to musicians who have had one big hit. A massive smash that overshadows the rest of their work; a song that their fans will always shout for, whenever they play a gig, no matter what else the musician wants them to hear. Ralph McTell (Streets of London), Mike Batt (The Wombling Song), Altered Images' Clare Grogan (Happy Birthday) and Colin Vearncombe aka Black (Wonderful Life) all shared their methods of dealing with a situation that most of us might regard as a privilege, but, for them, has become... an albatross.
I relish a pop theory almost as much as I relish a pop manifesto, and Paphides had a theory about what happens to One Big Hit pop stars. And it was that they go through the stages of grief: denial, bargaining, anger, depression, acceptance. This was a revelation, not only to the listener but to the musicians themselves – McTell called it "extremely illuminating"– and led to some delightful interviews. McTell admitted that he wouldn't let his record label mention Streets of London on the cover of his Spiral Staircase album, which featured it. Grogan refused to sing Happy Birthday for 18 years and ran out of any shop that played it in the background. Mike Batt pointed out, rather poignantly, that if David Bowie had made an album of Laughing Gnome-type songs then Bowie would be the Laughing Gnome bloke, in the same way that Batt is the Womble guy. "I wanted to be taken seriously by my record company," said Batt. "As if anyone could ever take a Womble seriously."
It's funny how, when you're young, you believe that pop is only for your generation. I love it even more now I'm older, now the lyrics take on different meanings, now I know that musicians are not only living gods who make a PVC onesie look like appealing casualwear but also human beings. And I loved this programme.
There was also much to love about Radio 4's extensive coverage of Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech, which he gave 50 years ago last Wednesday. I enjoyed it all, but especially Gary Younge's suitably serious take, *God's Trombone: Remembering King's Dream*, where we heard from King's speechwriters, and learned that singer Mahalia Jackson was the one who shouted to King, as his speech was winding down, "Tell 'em about the dream!" Here, too, Younge offered an interesting take that led to revelations from his interviewees. He believes that we have remembered Martin Luther King as the "I Have a Dream" guy – his one big hit – because colour segregation has been successfully eradicated in the US. But his desire to alleviate poverty and his more political anti-Vietnam agenda are not remembered, as these problems have not been solved.
As an adjunct to the BBC's Dr King coverage, try a little gem from *WBEZ Chicago*. They have unearthed a long-lost recording of Archibald Carey, a Chicago preacher who was in his prime a decade before King's speech. Carey spoke at the 1952 Republican convention, and when you hear the distinctive, rousing crescendo about freedom that he delivers at the end of his speech, you realise that it was appropriated – sampled – by Dr King in Washington 10 years later. Not plagiarism, exactly, as it was the habit of black preachers to reference each other at the time. Popularism, then, and very interesting to hear. Reported by guardian.co.uk 13 hours ago.