On a Different Note Entirely, with infinte thanks to Shane MacGowan

[itsallovernow]

Since I filled my weekend with Farscape related things, I want to tack away from that for a moment and talk about music again. (Largely, I feel guilty for not keeping my RL friends and my family in touch with what I've been thinking, and when I talk about music, I can shoot that over to my RL blog as well).

So I started the musical odyssey with a song by Joan Baez, a tribute to my mom, in a way, but this is more a tribute to an specific moment, I think.

So, If I Should Fall From Grace With God is one of my favorite albums, and I hope that the fucker who broke into my car in Buffalo and ended up with this album in the case of something else at least listened to it and bought more of The Pogues. No, I'm not still bitter about that. And I love all of the songs on this album, but Fairytale of New York has always stuck with me. Thousands are Sailing is probably a better song, but well, I just love this one.



It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me, won't see another one
And then he sang a song
The Rare Old Mountain Dew
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you

Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I've got a feeling
This year's for me and you
So happy Christmas
I love you baby
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true

They've got cars big as bars
They've got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It's no place for the old
When you first took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve
You promised me
Broadway was waiting for me

You were handsome
You were pretty
Queen of New York City
When the band finished playing
They howled out for more
Sinatra was swinging,
All the drunks they were singing
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night

The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing "Galway Bay"
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas day

You're a bum
You're a punk
You're an old slut on junk
Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed
You scumbag, you maggot
You cheap lousy faggot
Happy Christmas your arse
I pray God it's our last

I could have been someone
Well so could anyone
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can't make it all alone
I've built my dreams around you


c. copyright 1988 Shane MacGowan & Jem Finer



I don't know when I first heard The Pogues. First heard of them as an adolescent, listening to the Celtic hour on KRCC which was the local NPR station at home, and hearing the DJ, who was trying to expand the public's understanding of Celtic music, ask for no more requests for The Pogues. Which I suppose is fair. Somewhere between The Chieftans and Shane MacGowan, there's a lot of music that isn't getting heard.

So I'd listened to records, hell, I knew who Shane MacGowan was, so I must have heard this song before, but one night in college I was sitting in my dorm room studying and it was cold out, and I didn't really know anyone yet, and the room was foggy from the chill of the ice outside and the radiator inside and this song came on, and I just stopped what I was doing, throat choked and then started to laugh even as I was tearing up. I've never been able to listen to it since without stopping for it, singing along in a wretched accent, not doing too much worse than Shane MacGowan, but trying to tone it down for Kirsty MacColl, because really, covering up her voice is just a universal disservice.

It's romantic and scathing and dark and damp and grimy. It's cigarettes and dirty snow, and cold nights and the ways the love turns to hate and lives get all fucked up, and yet it's also incredibly giddy. It's not lush and sweet and wistfully longing like Lorelei, it's a fight, an attack, and rueful nostalgia. The last line, I built my dreams around you always gets me. For better or worse. The mingling of voices makes the song, the scratchy drunk as a skunk growl of Shane MacGowan, and then the equally raspy, but pure voice of Kirsty MacColl, matched set, battling for precedence with these gruff notes of longing.

It's a drunken brawl kind of a song, rousing notes and slow sweet slides of melody, and it sticks with you when it's done, because it's not just a love song. It's about dreams and youth and broken promises, and if anyone's listened to Shane MacGowan, watched the disaster that is his life, it's so fitting. And it's history, immigrants and the promised land, and needing someone else, even if it's so you don't have to suffer alone. Listen with dark beer, or smooth whiskey, or the night air. You'll feel a little drunk, a little off balance, a little sad, but glad to have to music keep playing.

Can't find anyplace online to listen to the whole thing. Damn.

Comments

[kixxa.livejournal.com]

I actually went to see The Pogues. They came to Adelaide and played at one of the larger hotels. Shane came on stage with an already half drunk bottle of some really cheap alcohol, clutched in his hand. Although Shane got progressively worse, it was a really enjoyable night. I came home drenched in beer and stale cigarette smoke. It took a few washings to get it all out of my clothes.

:)

[thassalia.livejournal.com]

Then it ended as any viewing of the Pogues should. With the stink of cigarettes and cheap booze, and giddiness:) Shane MacGowan is such a mess. Brilliant and completely screwed up.

[life-on-queen.livejournal.com]

I discovered the Pogues as part of my late high school-through-university obsession with Irish trad and folk music. electricland and I have a tradition of going to Irish pubs in Montreal and getting shit-faced and singing along to the band or the music playing in the background.

One night we were there with the Scapers who had all made the trip to Mon'l to run a "Save Farscape" table at the local sf con. We were sitting around a table waiting for the band to start when they played "Fairy Tale in New York." EL and I started singing right along, more or less at the top of our lungs, as we always do—much to the shock of the women we were sitting with (and the band later on in the evening when we started singing along to "The Black Velvet Band." Actually, I think we could be heard over the band at that point).

And that line about building "my dreams around you" kills me every-damn-time.

[thassalia.livejournal.com]

You can't not sing at the top of your lungs. It's just somehow defying of all that is right with the world if you remain quiet while it plays:)

And now have gotten icon inspiration!!

I see that you are no longer living in fear of big brother, as well:)

It has been too damned long since I've drank whiskey at an Irish bar and sang loudly and badly along with the band. It must be remedied!

[life-on-queen.livejournal.com]

Come to Montreal this winter...it's a sight, i tell ya

Well, as long as I'm caught up, I don't care about big brother but no internet when I'm busy

[electricland.livejournal.com]

Hear, hear!

And thanks for the Kirsty shout-out. I love that song too. One of these days... perhaps today... I'm gonna post about it...

[thassalia.livejournal.com]

It's such a great song ( and she is/was such an amazing talent). I'd love to hear your thoughts on the song!

[thassalia.livejournal.com]

Isn't that counter intuitive? Going somewhere cold in the winter:) Shouldn't you be coming here? Hee hee. However, it would undoubtedly be worth the cold!

[cofax7]

Just wanted to squee about the Pogues, comment that Shane McGowan has the worst teeth in rock-and-roll, and sigh for the untimely death of Kirsty MacColl.

You make me want to dig out my old tape of If I Should Fall From Grace With God. Haven't listened to it in yonks.

I may be able to track down an mp3 for you. Remind me later...

[thassalia.livejournal.com]

Ooh, yes, yes. If you can find an MP3, I'd be ever so grateful.

Shane McGowan does have the worst teeth in rock-n-roll, and every boyfriend I had in college was just stupidly fascinated by him filing his canines into points (don't know if this is urban myth or not, but it certainly does something unseemly to the imaginations of 20 year old boys who then have to be told that it's creepy:)