Sunshine Bottyman

I really don't know where to begin.

One of my earliest, and fondest, musical memories, is of a summer at the very beginning of the 70s (yes, I am THAT old) playing my elder sister's record collection on a portable record player in the family back garden. It's a really powerful memory, and I can clearly recall many of the records that she had and that I played that day. I know it had to be the 70s because one of those records was Let It Be, the Beatles' last UK 45 (well, until 1976, anyway), which was released in 1970; other discs included Gene Pitney's 24 Hours From Tulsa, the Small faces Itchycoo Park, a whole bunch of great Motown singles and Donovan's Jennifer Juniper.

Consequently I've always loved those records and, even though I know he's a raging old hippy who spends his life trading on the fact that he knew The Beatles, I've always had a bit of a soft spot for old Donovan, especially his sun-drenched post the-next-Dylan recordings.

So it came as a bit of a shock to discover this appalling little turd in his oeuvre. Originally featured on the Cosmic Wheels album (1973) and released as the b-side to the Maria Magenta single of the same year, there's very little I can say about The Intergalactic Laxative, apart that is from asking the question 'what the hell was he on?' A song about astronaut's bodily functions? FFS!

Have a listen, I dare you. Just in case you fancy singing along to this jaunty little ditty here are the great poet's lyrics:

I was impressed like everyone,
When man began to fly,
Out of earthly regions,
To planets in the sky.
With total media coverage,
We watched the heroes land,
As ceremoniously
They disturbed the cosmic sand.

In awe with admiration,
We listened to the talk.
Such pride felt they,
Such joy to be
Upon the moon to walk.
My romantic vision shattered,
When it was explained to me,
Spacemen wear old diapers
In which they shit and pee.

Oh, the intergalactic laxative,
Will get you from here to there.
Relieve you and believe me,
Without a worry or care.
If shitting is your problem,
When you're out there in the stars,
Oh, the intergalactic laxative
Will get you from here to Mars.

They don't partake like you and I,
Of beefy burger mush.
Their food is specially prepared
To dissolve into slush.
Absorbed by multi-fibers
In the super diaper suit,
Otherwise the slush would trickle
Down inside the boot.

Oh, the intergalactic laxative,
Will get you from here to there.
Relieve you and believe me,
Without a worry or care.
If shitting is your problem
When you're out there in the stars,
Oh, the intergalactic laxative
Will get you from here to Mars.

You may well ask now what becomes
Of liquid they consume.
A pipe is led from penis head
To a unit in the room.
The water is recirculated,
Filtered for re-use.
In case of anti-gravity
Pee gets on the loose.

Oh, the intergalactic laxative,
Will get you from here to there.
Relieve you and believe me,
Without a worry or care.
If shitting is your problem
When you're out there in the stars,
Oh, the intergalactic laxative
Will get you from here to Mars.

Wherever man has conquered,
On the quest for frontiers new,
I'm glad that he's always had to do
The number one and two.
It makes it all so ordinary,
Just like you and me,
To know the greatest heroes,
They had to shit and pee.

The intergalactic laxative
Will get you from here to there,
For cosmic constipation
There's none that can compare.
If shitting is your problem
When you're out there in the stars,
Oh, the intergalactic laxative,
The intergalactic laxative,
The intergalactic laxative,
Will get you from here to Mars.




http://rapidshare.com/files/368382110/The_Intergalactic_Laxative.mp3

stools, schools, dunces and fools

The world of the song-poem is littered with inane, and quite often insane, lyrics, but these are some of the most banal I've come across recently. Even the genius multi-instrumentalist, arranger and producer that was Rodd Keith fails miserably to inject some life into this pile of dross.

The words of To The Person were written by the wonderfully-named Melchor Carnate Jr, and you really have to ask yourself if English was his first language; he seems to have no idea of how to construct a sensible sentence. Melchor's words really are nonsensical:

To the person who is in love
But cannot say so from above
Come golden words in your sleep
Untold words you now can speak

To the person who's not in love
And can say they're not from above
Come Cupid's arrows, who are you fooling
Their pushin' will give you some schoolin'

To those who aren't in love
And cannot say from above
Comes a scolding because you are a fool
A scolding and a dunce's stool

To the person who is in love
And can say they are from above
Comes a blessing because you are wise
True love is your prize

To those who aren't in love
And cannot say from above
Comes a scolding because you are a fool
A scolding and a dunce's stool

To the person who is in love
And can say they are from above
Comes a blessing because you are wise
True love is your prize

...fabulously dreadful. This appears to have been Mr Carnate's only foray into the song-poem world, although I'd lay money on there being some more of his rotten poetry around somewhere - maybe preserved for posterity on a local newspaper letters page, or in one of those vanity anthologies that bad poets are always paying to be included in.

Anyway, enjoy Rodd's soulful rendition of Melchor's words and have a great weekend

I might as well be dead

Here's a cheery little pip for you, courtesy of country singer Will Gentry, aka Ramsey Kearney. An interesting figure, Kearney - still active today - has been recording since the very beginning of the 1960s, often for fairly major companies, but at some point he decided to get in on the song-poem scam, setting up his own company Nashco specifically to, as he puts it himself "assist the amateur and professional songwriter in getting a demonstration recording made of their song; suitable to assist the writer in furthering his or her song material." How very generous.

Ramsey/Will was also the performer of one of the greatest songs in the whole song-poem oeuvre, Blind Man's Penis. Originally submitted as a joke (titled Stevie Wonder's Penis) to see if anyone within the song-poem industry would be mercenary enough to record such a thing, Ramsey kindly offered to do so, suggesting that the title be changed to Blind Man's Penis to avoid any problems with Mr Wonder and his entourage.

The authors of this little ditty, Cecelia and Theodore Frese, clearly thought they were on to a winner by employing Will Gentry to write the music to and record their song and, to be fair to Ramsey/Will, he has put more effort into the tune than many others would have. It's miles better than some of the dreadful song-poem lyrics I've heard, but they still ended up with a clunker. How could anyone believe that a song that includes the lyrical couplet "There's no-one shares my love/I might as well be dead" would be a hit?

Here, for your delectation, is Homely as the Dickens. Enjoy

http://rapidshare.com/files/364599989/Homely_as_the_Dickens.mp3