A few songs

I was typing away the other day, when from another room I heard the unmistakable strains of The Beautiful South's song Don't Marry Her, Have Me (or) Fuck Me, if you prefer. As a matter of fact, I do prefer the f-word here and not just because it's slightly shocking to some.

It is obviously the original word used and is essential to the song's theme, namely the choice between the comfortable cage of family life, with all its restrictions and compromises, and uncomplicated fucking with an undemanding partner. What do want? A routine outline for lust, a panacea for loneliness and someone to do your laundry? Aren't those three L's the usual reasons for a man's marrying? And a woman's? Love, Lucre and Let's get the bastard!

OK, it's cynical, impracticable and juvenile. But that sweet siren voice singing along to that prettily seductive tune is tempting. The adult approach, of course, is to have both.

I first heard it a Lincoln pub, the William IV, at a low point of my life. I was hoping the flotsam and jetsam of failure would drift away on a tide of alcohol - good that! - and found the mantra of 'Don't marry her, fuck me' rather comforting. As was The Mavericks' Just wanna dance the night away.

It looks like I'm travelling down memory lane again. Perhaps I'm using this blog to exorcise nostalgia. But, to continue with songs that trigger memories, I shall move on to Nina Simone.

I was having lunch with a colleague one day (in Martha's Vineyard) when an instrumental version of My baby just cares for me came on. For some reason that middle piano riff just hooked me. I was told it was Nina Simone. Of course, I'd never heard of her, but now I'm a great admirer. She seems to been an awkward, angry old bat, with a chip on each shoulder, and probably a few more hidden under the piano. No doubt she had good reason. What was it she said once? 'Jazz is a white term for black people. My music is black, classical music.'

More important, 'I've got life. I've got my freedom. I got the life.'

It's amazing the music I only discovered by accident, long after it was first released. For example, I'd never heard of Credence Clearwater Revival until I watched An American Werewolf in London on video. Now they are the one rock group I would take to my desert island. Bo Diddley's I'm a Man was another pub discovery (Blandings), as was Frank Sinatra's New York, New York (George and Dragon). Ye Olde Crowne introduced me to Mustang Sally (Commitments version essential). I have a friend who does an excellent rendition of it.

The Levis Originals advertising campaign revived many great songs of the past - I'm Mad about the Boy (Noel Coward was thinking about a boy when he wrote it), Take another little piece of my heart (Irma Franklin), Heart Attack and Vine (Screaming Jay Hawkins - father of approx 100 children). And The Clash with Should I stay or should I go?

And this is where I come to Mavis, for she is associated with many songs. The Clash remind me of a long exposition of the musical reasons for the rise of punk, as a reaction against the prevailing pop culture, plastic pop, glam rock and sophisticated studio production. I'm still not convinced. I think most punk rocker were just tossers.

And then there were the Spice Girls, whose Wannabee we agreed was an excellent pop song, innovative, striking, worthy of its success, like it or not. And that Imagine opening to the Oasis song - was it Don't Look Back in Anger? - which had to be explained to me. But we both remembered Lonnie Donegan's Putting on the Style with affection and respect.

And back to Ye Olde Crowne for the Grease megamix, which I disgraced myself by playing on the juke-box at least six times in a row one Christmas Eve, and later doing the same thing with Hot Chocolate's You Sexy Thing.

And all that is quite apart from that Hank Williams song, I can't help it if I'm still in love with you.