A little-known song from the late eighties: sweet, simple, and a tiny bit sad.
**
"I Wish U Heaven" (as recorded by Prince)
Doubts of our conviction
Follow where we go
And when the world's compassion
Ceases still I know
4 your every touch I
Thank U so much
4 your every kiss I...
I wish U love
I wish U heaven
I wish U heaven
If I say 11
U can say it's 7
Still I wish U heaven
I wish U love
I wish U heaven
I wish U heaven...
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
The vault of lost lyrics, chapter 46
Someone somewhere is thinking of you right this minute.
**
"Losing My Religion" (as recorded by R.E.M.)
Life is bigger
It's bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no, I've said too much
I set it up
That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no, I've said too much
I haven't said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try
Every whisper
Of every waking hour I'm
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool
Oh no, I've said too much
I set it up
Consider this
The hint of the century
Consider this
The slip that brought me
To my knees failed
What if all these fantasies
Come flailing around
Now I've said too much
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try
But that was just a dream
That was just a dream
**
"Losing My Religion" (as recorded by R.E.M.)
Life is bigger
It's bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no, I've said too much
I set it up
That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no, I've said too much
I haven't said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try
Every whisper
Of every waking hour I'm
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool
Oh no, I've said too much
I set it up
Consider this
The hint of the century
Consider this
The slip that brought me
To my knees failed
What if all these fantasies
Come flailing around
Now I've said too much
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try
But that was just a dream
That was just a dream
Friday, September 28, 2007
The vault of lost lyrics, chapter 97
Ideally, this song is playing while you're flying down the highway, headed for happiness...
**
"Magic Carpet Ride" (as recorded by Steppenwolf, 1968!)
I like to dream yes, yes, right between my sound machine
On a cloud of sound I drift in the night
Any place it goes is right
Goes far, flies near, to the stars away from here
Well, you don't know what we can find
Why don't you come with me, little girl
On a magic carpet ride
You don't know what we can see
Why don't you tell your dreams to me
Fantasy will set you free
Close your eyes, girl
Look inside, girl
Let the sound take you away
Last night I held Aladdin's lamp
And so I wished that I could stay
Before the thing could answer me
Well, someone came and took the lamp away
I looked around
A lousy candle's all I found
Well, you don't know what we can find
Why don't you come with me, little girl
On a magic carpet ride
Well, you don't know what we can see
Why don't you tell your dreams to me
Fantasy will set you free
Close your eyes, girl
Look inside, girl
Let the sound take you away...
**
"Magic Carpet Ride" (as recorded by Steppenwolf, 1968!)
I like to dream yes, yes, right between my sound machine
On a cloud of sound I drift in the night
Any place it goes is right
Goes far, flies near, to the stars away from here
Well, you don't know what we can find
Why don't you come with me, little girl
On a magic carpet ride
You don't know what we can see
Why don't you tell your dreams to me
Fantasy will set you free
Close your eyes, girl
Look inside, girl
Let the sound take you away
Last night I held Aladdin's lamp
And so I wished that I could stay
Before the thing could answer me
Well, someone came and took the lamp away
I looked around
A lousy candle's all I found
Well, you don't know what we can find
Why don't you come with me, little girl
On a magic carpet ride
Well, you don't know what we can see
Why don't you tell your dreams to me
Fantasy will set you free
Close your eyes, girl
Look inside, girl
Let the sound take you away...
Thursday, September 27, 2007
The vault of lost lyrics, chapter 89
Always reminds me of the auto-percussion selection on my mother's electronic organ!
**
"Steppin' Out" (as recorded by Joe Jackson)
Now —
The mist across the window hides the lines
But nothing hides the colour of the lights that shine
Electricity so fine
Look and dry your eyes
We —
So tired of all the darkness in our lives
With no more angry words to say
Can come alive
Get into a car and drive
To the other side
Me, babe — steppin' out
Into the night
Into the light
You, babe — steppin' out
Into the night
Into the light
We —
Are young but getting old before our time
We'll leave the TV and the radio behind
Don't you wonder what we'll find
Steppin' out tonight
You —
Can dress in pink and blue just like a child
And in a yellow taxi turn to me and smile
We'll be there in just a while
If you follow me
Me, babe — steppin' out
Into the night
Into the light
You, babe - steppin' out
Into the night
Into the light ...
**
"Steppin' Out" (as recorded by Joe Jackson)
Now —
The mist across the window hides the lines
But nothing hides the colour of the lights that shine
Electricity so fine
Look and dry your eyes
We —
So tired of all the darkness in our lives
With no more angry words to say
Can come alive
Get into a car and drive
To the other side
Me, babe — steppin' out
Into the night
Into the light
You, babe — steppin' out
Into the night
Into the light
We —
Are young but getting old before our time
We'll leave the TV and the radio behind
Don't you wonder what we'll find
Steppin' out tonight
You —
Can dress in pink and blue just like a child
And in a yellow taxi turn to me and smile
We'll be there in just a while
If you follow me
Me, babe — steppin' out
Into the night
Into the light
You, babe - steppin' out
Into the night
Into the light ...
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
The vault of lost lyrics, chapter 31
Another great one-off — perfect for your morning commute!
**
"Ah! Leah!" (as recorded by Donnie Iris)
Leah, it's been a long long time
You're such a sight
You're looking better than a body has a right to
Don't you know we're playing with the fire?
But we can't stop this burning desire
Ah! Leah! Here we go again
Ah! Leah! Is it ever going to end?
I see your lips and I wonder who's been kissing them
I never knew how badly I was missing them
We both know we're never going to make it
but when we touch, we never have to fake it
Ah! Leah! Here we go again
Ah! Leah! Is it ever going to end?
We ain't learned our lesson yet
Baby, it's no good
We're just asking for trouble
I can touch you but I don't know how to love you
It ain't no use, we're headed for disaster
Our minds say no but our hearts are talking faster
Ah! Leah! Here we go again
Ah! Leah! Is it ever going to end?
**
"Ah! Leah!" (as recorded by Donnie Iris)
Leah, it's been a long long time
You're such a sight
You're looking better than a body has a right to
Don't you know we're playing with the fire?
But we can't stop this burning desire
Ah! Leah! Here we go again
Ah! Leah! Is it ever going to end?
I see your lips and I wonder who's been kissing them
I never knew how badly I was missing them
We both know we're never going to make it
but when we touch, we never have to fake it
Ah! Leah! Here we go again
Ah! Leah! Is it ever going to end?
We ain't learned our lesson yet
Baby, it's no good
We're just asking for trouble
I can touch you but I don't know how to love you
It ain't no use, we're headed for disaster
Our minds say no but our hearts are talking faster
Ah! Leah! Here we go again
Ah! Leah! Is it ever going to end?
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
The vault of lost lyrics, chapter 17
Turn up your mental speakers and sing along!
**
"Turning Japanese" (as recorded by The Vapors)
I've got your picture of me and you
You wrote "I love you"
I wrote "Me too"
I sit there staring and there's nothing else to do
Oh it's in color
Your hair is brown
Your eyes are hazel
And soft as clouds
I often kiss you when there's no one else around
I've got your picture, I've got your picture
I'd like a million of you all round my cell
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
You've got me turning up and turning down
And turning in and turning 'round
Turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so...
I've got your picture, I've got your picture
I'd like a million of them all round my cell
I want the doctor to take a picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
You've got me turning up and turning down
and turning in and turning 'round
Turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so...
No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women
No fun, no sin, no you, no wonder it's dark
Everyone around me is a total stranger
Everyone avoids me like a cyclone ranger
That's why I'm turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so
Turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so...
**
"Turning Japanese" (as recorded by The Vapors)
I've got your picture of me and you
You wrote "I love you"
I wrote "Me too"
I sit there staring and there's nothing else to do
Oh it's in color
Your hair is brown
Your eyes are hazel
And soft as clouds
I often kiss you when there's no one else around
I've got your picture, I've got your picture
I'd like a million of you all round my cell
I want a doctor to take your picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
You've got me turning up and turning down
And turning in and turning 'round
Turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so...
I've got your picture, I've got your picture
I'd like a million of them all round my cell
I want the doctor to take a picture
So I can look at you from inside as well
You've got me turning up and turning down
and turning in and turning 'round
Turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so...
No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women
No fun, no sin, no you, no wonder it's dark
Everyone around me is a total stranger
Everyone avoids me like a cyclone ranger
That's why I'm turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so
Turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so...
Sunday, September 09, 2007
A Book to Avoid
I'm sure few of you would ever be moved to read Ann Brashares' new novel, The Last Summer (of You and Me) . But for those who might be tempted, let me say this: don't bother.
Brashares, in case you don't know, is the author of the outrageously successful Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants series for young adults. The series is chock-full of annoying, low-grade YA clichés: genre-bound, simplistic, predictable exchanges that follow a high-key Hollywood arc. Nothing truly bad happens, the risks the protagonists face are minor and non-threatening, and the books invariably resolve happily, with renewed commitment to friendship forever (a commitment that strangely ebbs away by the beginning of the next book). Earlier this year Brashares brought all her Travelling Pants heroines to the cusp of adulthood, perhaps thinking her readership would then graduate to the new novel she's written for adults. And while readers might buy the book because they recognize the author's name, I can't imagine any but those who like badly written, formulaic storytelling enjoying it.
The Last Summer tells the story of Alice and Riley, sisters in their early twenties, and their best boy pal, Paul. After several years apart, the trio reunite at their summer homes on Fire Island. Preposterousness then ensues: a secret romance, a fast-moving tragedy, a protracted misunderstanding, and a final tearful resolution. Despite more than 300 pages of plot and exposition, real characters never arrive to flesh out Brashares' sketches. Her prose is bloated and occasionally pedantic — there is no doubt readers will understand the deeper philosophy the writer means to communicate, if only because the writer underlines it in triplicate. Brashares' technique alternates between stilted, extremely formal constructions and vapid, throwaway sentences. When the copyediting started to fall apart, about 100 pages into the novel, I was convinced the editor was having as much trouble taking the book seriously as I was. Not only could I predict the plot from chapter one; at no point did the writer make me care about the story or the characters. Even the sex scenes are coy and cool, as they would be in one of Brashares' YA books, and the serious problems of young adults living in an increasingly complex world are waved away, deferred for contemplation some vague time after Labour Day.
I'd been hoping that Brashares had more promise than her Travelling Pants premise permitted her to express — I was looking forward to a breakout book. Sadly, this is no breakout; it isn't even good summer reading. Clichéd, trite, underdeveloped and overwritten, The Last Summer (of You and Me) is a book to avoid.
Brashares, in case you don't know, is the author of the outrageously successful Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants series for young adults. The series is chock-full of annoying, low-grade YA clichés: genre-bound, simplistic, predictable exchanges that follow a high-key Hollywood arc. Nothing truly bad happens, the risks the protagonists face are minor and non-threatening, and the books invariably resolve happily, with renewed commitment to friendship forever (a commitment that strangely ebbs away by the beginning of the next book). Earlier this year Brashares brought all her Travelling Pants heroines to the cusp of adulthood, perhaps thinking her readership would then graduate to the new novel she's written for adults. And while readers might buy the book because they recognize the author's name, I can't imagine any but those who like badly written, formulaic storytelling enjoying it.
The Last Summer tells the story of Alice and Riley, sisters in their early twenties, and their best boy pal, Paul. After several years apart, the trio reunite at their summer homes on Fire Island. Preposterousness then ensues: a secret romance, a fast-moving tragedy, a protracted misunderstanding, and a final tearful resolution. Despite more than 300 pages of plot and exposition, real characters never arrive to flesh out Brashares' sketches. Her prose is bloated and occasionally pedantic — there is no doubt readers will understand the deeper philosophy the writer means to communicate, if only because the writer underlines it in triplicate. Brashares' technique alternates between stilted, extremely formal constructions and vapid, throwaway sentences. When the copyediting started to fall apart, about 100 pages into the novel, I was convinced the editor was having as much trouble taking the book seriously as I was. Not only could I predict the plot from chapter one; at no point did the writer make me care about the story or the characters. Even the sex scenes are coy and cool, as they would be in one of Brashares' YA books, and the serious problems of young adults living in an increasingly complex world are waved away, deferred for contemplation some vague time after Labour Day.
I'd been hoping that Brashares had more promise than her Travelling Pants premise permitted her to express — I was looking forward to a breakout book. Sadly, this is no breakout; it isn't even good summer reading. Clichéd, trite, underdeveloped and overwritten, The Last Summer (of You and Me) is a book to avoid.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Thirty Days in the Summer of 07
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