The final song in this mini series hasn't just popped into my head, its been kipping in the attic ever since my son was born. Sweet Baby James is 50% cowboy song, 50% lullaby, 100% immaculate. There may well have been better songs written than this; but not many. Even its writer, James Taylor, said it's the song he's most proud of. I can't disagree with that.
Did he? Or didn't he? We can talk till the cows come home about how George Harrison accidentally or otherwise plagiarised He's so Fine by the Chiffons, but it won't change the outcome. In 1976 the judge - after years of legal wrangling - found Harrison guilty as charged. Beatle George never saw a dime from his multi-million selling chart topper - ironic as he was the first of the post-Fab Four to land a Number One single on both sides of the Atlantic. So, whether I'm singing the George Harrison original (well, as original as a song with a nicked riff/motif can be), or the version George produced for his mate Billy Preston - before Harrison committed his to tape - My Sweet Lord is the 4h. selection of songs currently pin-balling round my skull 24/7.
Billy Preston: My Sweet Lord (1970)
John Lennon once famously said that whenever he heard My Sweet Lord he was convinced there was a God. Even as a non believer, I think I know where he was coming from.
George Harrison - My Sweet Lord (1970)
And, finally, the elephant in the room. It's hard to believe nobody (not even Phil Spector) told the ex-Beatle he was treading on very thin ice. But, hey, it made for a great rock and roll story.
Only three songs in to my mini series and already I'm floundering with the concept of themed blogs; I've said before that lists, running themes etc. are an anathema to me. And do you wanna know why? I'll tell you why: the third song from 1970 that I've been singing like a madmancap isn't even from 1970. Yikes! All this time I thought I was singing a Syd Barrett song from his 'A Madcap Laughs' album; turns out I was actually singing an Andy Ellison pastiche recorded some 35 years later. There never were such times. So, to demonstrate what a chump I've been, here are the (offending) tunes in all their glory:
The conceit for this mini series - songs from 1970 buzzing round my head - is, of course, deeply flawed: how can there only be five songs in there and why are all from 1970? Busted.
But, at the time of conception, you've gotta believe me that this clutch of songs were pretty much front and centre of what passes for my brain and, yes, I was, and still am, singing them at traffic lights. In the supermarket. In the shower. Don't tell me you've never been afflicted too.
This one is a funny one. Unlike the last ear worm which is from a band I kind of know inside out and back to front, Cat Stevens is an outsider to me; albeit an outsider who, for a handful of years in the late sixties and early seventies, wrote some real touchstone songs. Maybe I was too young, maybe I wasn't emotionally invested enough to buy into his brand, maybe he was just too gospel-y for me. But 'Wild World' pierced my armour. It got thru. And still hasn't left.
It was Sandy Denny who asked the perennial question: Who knows where the time goes? And having recently compiled a photo book for James' 30th - a job that saw me rifling thru literally thousands of photographs, slides and digital images - I know. God, I know. But, like asking how they get the stripes into a tube of toothpaste - we all kinda pretend not to. Which brings me to today's offering. Anyone still following me after all these years will know the glue that binds this whole shaky caravan together is four parts shooting from the hip, one part premeditated. Themes or lists (apart from annual roundups) happen when they happen, or, most likely, don't happen when they don't happen. But, for some unfathomable reason I have five songs in my head that were all released in 1970. And even those at the back of the class will know that that's 50 years ago in anyone's language. So, rather than blurt them all out in one hit I'm going to release them into the ether one at a time. First up, Slade. Long before Noddy Holder discovered mirrored top hats and indeed before Dave Hill found an alternative use for Bacofoil, Slade were a bunch of Black Country skinheads trying to catch a break. They obviously succeeeded, but not before dispensing with the Ben Shermans, Sta Press and 14 eye DMs (your mum probably called 'em bovver boots). And they sounded like this:
