Oh-drink-ah-deary-deary-deary-me-oh!
Drink and folk songs are, I have been discovering, a dangerous combination – and the blue touch paper to this danger is being left on your own in the afternoon when there is alcohol in the house.
The night before, feeling a bit ‘tired’, I went on iTunes and made a few purchases. Chief among these was the song ‘skin too thin’ by Jez Low. Ahhhh, folk. Folk songs appear to break down into two types; there’s the type used in chocolate adverts and are concerned with maidens, meadows and simple goat-boys. Then there are the folk songs of the industrial north, which mainly consist of killing the mill owner using clogs. ‘Skin too thin’ is definitely in the latter vein.
Listened to it once. Yes, it was as good as when I first heard it many years ago on a radio show (odd how certain songs stay with one…I suspect that some memory neurons, swamped by wine, expanded to the point where they fired into the area of the brain that governs acquisition). Listened again. Oooh, better. But would be better still with wine. Got wine, listened again. And again. Finished wine, got more wine, listened again and started singing along.
Half three on a Sunday and come to realisation I’m slightly potted and have listened to the same song 20 times. This is bad. Worse would be stopping drinking – it was imperative I got past the stage of inebriation when you feel like wrecking looms.
To be honest, the rest of the afternoon is something of a blur but I can’t of drunk that much – I didn’t buy the rest of the album.
The night before, feeling a bit ‘tired’, I went on iTunes and made a few purchases. Chief among these was the song ‘skin too thin’ by Jez Low. Ahhhh, folk. Folk songs appear to break down into two types; there’s the type used in chocolate adverts and are concerned with maidens, meadows and simple goat-boys. Then there are the folk songs of the industrial north, which mainly consist of killing the mill owner using clogs. ‘Skin too thin’ is definitely in the latter vein.
Listened to it once. Yes, it was as good as when I first heard it many years ago on a radio show (odd how certain songs stay with one…I suspect that some memory neurons, swamped by wine, expanded to the point where they fired into the area of the brain that governs acquisition). Listened again. Oooh, better. But would be better still with wine. Got wine, listened again. And again. Finished wine, got more wine, listened again and started singing along.
Half three on a Sunday and come to realisation I’m slightly potted and have listened to the same song 20 times. This is bad. Worse would be stopping drinking – it was imperative I got past the stage of inebriation when you feel like wrecking looms.
To be honest, the rest of the afternoon is something of a blur but I can’t of drunk that much – I didn’t buy the rest of the album.
Labels: Alcohol, Drink, Folk songs, Music, Singing
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