Motherless Child

Today started out as a pretty normal day on Fairfax. The sun was shining, the entire Twelve Bar crew were running around like maniacs trying to get a million and one things done and I was taking it all in my stride. Then Ghostface showed up. We had no warning, no advance notice, nothing. Zip zero nada. The doorbell rang and there he was demanding to be let in.

I wasn’t going to be the one to say no to the dude so I opened up the front door and in he strolled. Sporting a Yankees fitted hat, a crazy red robe covered with gold embroidery, a gold plated Versace medallion and carrying a giant gold goblet encrusted with Swarovski crystals, he apparently happened to be in the neighborhood and wanted to pass through.

So what did I do next? Well, we kicked it for a bit, I poured him a glass of his favorite flavor of Vitaminic, and then he turned his back on us and bounced to the skyline.

Was I upset? Nah, that’s just Ghostface

Tear-Jerker

Pop music is an interesting phenomenon, seemingly able to serve up slices of everyday wisdom in simple yet insightful couplets, and often in words of two or less syllables. How often do we hear a track about the vagaries of love, the pain of a broken heart, the urge to get down and dirty or countless other generic themes and think, hmmm, that guy has summed up what's in my head - How the hell did he do that. One of the beautiful mysteries of music, I think, and a long-winded ornate intro to today's topic.

For it was Martin Fry of silk-suited 80s popsters ABC who uttered the immortal lines "When Smokey sings, I hear violins, When Smokey sings, I forget everything (yeah)". I could go on, but the answer to why this upbeat slice of 80s pop, literally popped into my own head, lies in a recent listening to Smokey Robinson and the Miracles' masterpiece Tracks of my Tears. I mean forget the fact that Smokey Robinson's songwriting skills were a key rock upon which Motown was built, and that his supreme production talents were matched only by his skills as a performer, and just think about the voice. That honey-dripping voice, so effortlessly smooth, yet capturing of the heartbreaking words he is giving flight to on this and other tales of love gone bad.

If you are in any doubt as to how wonderful a vocal performance this is, try to sing along with Smokey and see how his breath control alone is outstanding. This is a truly great record, undulled by familiarity. As ABC might conclude, and everything's good in the world, tonight!