Tarota marks the sixth song I’ve featured from Tarot Suite by Mike Batt and Friends – one of my all-time favorite albums. Inspired by tarot card imagery, the record masterfully blends orchestral elements with progressive rock and folk influences. No other album was played more in our house during my youth. My father adored it like no other, insisting it be played whenever my parents entertained friends. I, too, felt a deep urge to share it, introducing songs from Tarot Suite to my school friends, hoping they’d recognize its brilliance. And sure enough, during a makeshift camping trip, they confided that it was, indeed, the bee’s knees. To sum it up, I’d be lost without this record.
Mike Batt is a British composer, songwriter, and producer known for his eclectic musical style, blending classical orchestration with pop, rock, and folk influences. Tarot Suite was his traditionally difficult follow-up second album of which he had the following to say:
“The success of my first solo album, Schizophonia had spurred me on, and I wanted to make a truly cohesive album that had a dramatic concept on which to hang the ideas. I had always been fascinated by the artwork and the tradition of Tarot Cards. I wasn’t really that interested in the occult, – I suppose I was curious like anyone else, but I got to know the various Tarot packs and read a lot about them. I decided to write an album (“Tarot Suite”) which would once again combine my more experimental combination of rock and symphonic instruments and ideas with songs, some of which could be quite simple. Looking back, I think it was the most cohesive of my solo albums.”
This spectacular instrumental Tarota continues to impress me after all these years. The tarot cards of Justice and The Wheel of Fortune were presented on the album insert and linear notes to represent this song. The cinematic song is driven by an energetic, medieval-flavored melody that showcases Batt’s signature orchestration. The track features a fusion of rock elements, with prominent use of various electric guitar solos (even a country flavoured one towards the end) that sometimes overlap each other, lively string arrangements and a galloping percussion. Tarota like the rest of the record evokes a sense of adventure, mystery, and destiny – fitting themes for an album centred around tarot.
How Leonard Cohen weaves poetry into music so seamlessly is on full display in today’s track – Take This Waltz. Inspired by the Spanish poet Federico García Lorca, the lyrics of Take This Waltz are a loose translation, into English, of the poem “Pequeño vals vienés” (Little Viennese Waltz). It was originally issued as part of the 1986 Federico García Lorca tribute album Poets in New York – to commemorate the 50 years anniversary of the assassination of the poet by the Fascists in Spain in 1936.
Leonard Cohen’s rendition retains Lorca’s surreal vision, where “there’s a lobby with nine hundred windows” and “death comes in through a fiddle’s moan.” The result is a hypnotic waltz infused with an almost cinematic sense of nostalgia and longing. In fact the video below was filmed in Spain, in the city of Granada in 1986, famous for the Alhambra Castle. Leonard Cohen is shown in the house of Federico Garcia Lorca.
Two years after his 1986 original release, Cohen revisited Take This Waltz for his album I’m Your Man. This later version (which I have included below the 1986 video) added Raffi Hakopian’s violin and Jennifer Warnes’ vocals in overlayers. A longtime Cohen collaborator, Jennifer Warnes also included her own version of Take This Waltz in her 1987 Cohen tribute album, Famous Blue Raincoat which you can read more about in my friend Christian’s post – First We Take Manhattan. You may remember Warnes had big chart successes with Up Where We Belong and (I’ve Had) The Time of My Life.
According to Wikipedia Cohen’s eighth studio album I’m Your Man was received as follows: I’m Your Man was hailed by critics as a return to form. It was number 1 in Norway for 16 weeks. The album went silver in the UK and gold in Canada. In the original Rolling Stone review, David Browne called it “the first Cohen album that can be listened to during the daylight hours.” Also interestingly, Tom Waits named it one of his favourite albums.
Now in Vienna there’s ten pretty women There’s a shoulder where Death comes to cry There’s a lobby with nine hundred windows There’s a tree where the doves go to die There’s a piece that was torn from the morning And it hangs in the Gallery of Frost
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay Take this waltz, take this waltz Take this waltz with the clamp on it’s jaws
Oh I want you, I want you, I want you On a chair with a dead magazine In the cave at the tip of the lily In some hallway where love’s never been On a bed where the moon has been sweating In a cry filled with footsteps and sand
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay Take this waltz, take this waltz Take its broken waist in your hand
This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz With it’s very own breath of brandy and Death Dragging it’s tail in the sea
There’s a concert hall in Vienna Where your mouth had a thousand reviews There’s a bar where the boys have stopped talking They’ve been sentenced to death by the blues Ah, but who is it climbs to your picture With a garland of freshly cut tears?
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay Take this waltz, take this waltz Take this waltz it’s been dying for years
There’s an attic where children are playing Where I’ve got to lie down with you soon In a dream of Hungarian lanterns In the mist of some sweet afternoon And I’ll see what you’ve chained to your sorrow All your sheep and your lilies of snow
Ay, Ay, Ay, Ay Take this waltz, take this waltz With its “I’ll never forget you, you know!”
This waltz, this waltz, this waltz, this waltz … With its very own breath of brandy and death Dragging its tail in the sea
And I’ll dance with you in Vienna I’ll be wearing a river’s disguise The hyacinth wild on my shoulder My mouth on the dew of your thighs And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook With the photographs there, and the moss And I’ll yield to the flood of your beauty My cheap violin and my cross And you’ll carry me down on your dancing To the pools that you lift on your wrist
Oh my love, Oh my love Take this waltz, take this waltz It’s yours now. It’s all that there is
The latest Academy award nominated movies are starting to come out here; so over the next month or so I will be frequenting the cinema as I did this week seeing Companion and today’s featured movie – A Real Pain. Next week, I have The Brutalist and I’m Still Here lined up. Thereafter Conclave and A Complete Unknown. They will also be relaunching Se7en which I am looking forward to seeing with my son since he hasn’t seen it.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from Jesse Eisenberg’s directorial debut, A Real Pain, but the premise intrigued me. It also felt like a refreshing change of pace – a grounded, nuanced drama – after the explosive sci-fi spectacle of Companion, which I had just seen. A Real Pain turned out to be a smart, funny, and deeply emotional film that resonated with me on every cinematic level. As the credits rolled, I felt as though my companion and I had embarked on our own journey through Poland, honoring the Jewish experience during World War II. I had never seen a film that so vividly transported me to a place, making me feel as if I had been exploring the sights and absorbing the history alongside the protagonists – all for the price of a movie ticket.
IMDB Storyline: “A Real Pain” follows mismatched cousins David (Jesse Eisenberg) and Benji (Kieran Culkin) as they reunite for a tour through Poland to honor their beloved grandmother, but their adventure takes a dark turn when the odd couple’s old tensions resurface against the backdrop of their family history.
The movie demonstrates Eisenberg as a thoughtful filmmaker, devoted to showing his characters as multi-dimensional, flawed human beings. Benji and David feel like real people, not cardboard cut-outs with one aspect to their personalities. The film is taut with unhappiness but allows itself to be funny. Each conversation in A Real Pain feels organic, almost improvised, yet carries an unusual, sometimes absurd, but never dull rhythm. There’s a darkly comic undercurrent to the dialogue that had me laughing out loud – even when the rest of the audience remained silent. But I didn’t mind; few films make me feel so present, so willing to let the seemingly trivial expressions, awkward pauses, and offbeat detours take me wherever they lead.
From one scene to the next, there’s no predicting how the protagonists will react or what unexpected remark will surface, yet every interaction crackles with authenticity. The film thrives on this unpredictability, toeing the line between discomfort and engagement, making even the most mundane moments feel oddly profound. Eisenberg masterfully captures the raw, messy nature of family connection, proving that sometimes, the most meaningful conversations are the ones that meander without a clear destination.
Beyond Jesse Eisenberg’s direction, the real revelation in A Real Pain is Kieran Culkin’s remarkable performance. It’s easy to see why he’s been nominated for Best Supporting Actor at the upcoming Academy Awards – his portrayal is nothing short of mesmerizing. The film’s title is no exaggeration, and Culkin carries that emotional weight masterfully, though it’s often masked by a facade of humor, impulsivity, and manic outbursts that can shift the mood of a scene in an instant.
What makes his performance so compelling is the delicate balance he strikes between deep, lingering pain and an almost frenetic charm. His interactions with the tour group oscillate between hilarity and heartbreak, leaving the audience in a constant state of intrigue. At times, he’s disarmingly tender; at others, he’s an unpredictable force of nature. This emotional duality is one of the most fascinating elements, inviting viewers to peel back the layers of his character long after the credits roll.
There is a lot more I admired about this movie, including the beautiful cinematography by Director of photography Michal Dymek captures some haunting imagery, from Poland’s cobble-stone streets and grim, post-Soviet architecture to the cold cruelty of a concentration camp. In addition, the music of Frédéric Chopin (who is Polish of course) is interwoven cleverly into the film, becoming a character in itself, his melancholy melodies seeming to heighten the drama and power of proceedings. Further, Robert Nassau’s editing ensures the film has a good pace, never wanting for momentum.
I highly recommend A Real Pain to the conscientious cinema goer. I hope it hits all your right buttons as it did for me. If you have already seen it I would love to know what you thought. Thank you for reading.
“He (Brian Wilson) remembers it being at my house. I remember it as being at his house. He starts pounding at the piano, I was summoning up the words and we got a chorus together, which was basically a bunch of doo-wop inspired harmonies. We created that whole song in fifteen minutes“. – Mike Love
This is when music made people smile. Released in 1968 Do It Again was the Beach Boys attempt to channel their earlier surf image which they had not embraced since 1964. So it was back to the sun-drenched days of surf, sand, and carefree living that had defined the group’s early success. Although they were hardly what you’d call ‘grommets’, however in reality one of the founding members Dennis Wilson in 1983 was found dead in the waters after diving off a boat slip. Carl Wilson recalled: ‘Yes, I suppose it has got the old Beach Boys surfing sound. It’s back to that surfing idea with the voice harmony and the simple, direct melody and lyrics. We didn’t plan the record as a return to the surf or anything‘..
By the late 1960s, the Beach Boys had ventured far beyond their early surf-rock roots. With Brian Wilson steering the ship, their sound had evolved into intricate studio masterpieces like Pet Sounds (1966). However, by 1968, the group found itself at a crossroads. Psychedelic rock was in full bloom, and their signature style was seen as something of a relic from a bygone era. So Do It Again as the title suggests is a song born out of pure nostalgia.
The following contains extracts from the Wikipedia article below: Originally titled “Rendezvous“, the lyrics to the song were inspired after a day Mike Love had spent at the beach in which he had gone surfing with an old friend named Bill Jackson. Mike then showed the lyrics to his cousin Brian Wilson, who proceeded to write the music to Mike’s lyrics of nostalgia. Brian stated that he believes the song was the best collaboration that he and Mike ever worked on.
During the mixdown, engineer Stephen Desper came up with the drum effect heard at the beginning of the track. He explained that he had “commissioned Philips, in Holland, to build two tape delay units for use on the road (to double live vocals). [he] moved four of the Philips PB heads very close together so that one drum strike was repeated four times about 10 milliseconds apart, and blended it with the original to give the effect you hear.”
The single peaked at number one on the UK Singles Chart on August 28, 1968, 40 days after its release, and thus became the band’s second number-one hit in the UK after Good Vibrations two years earlier. Love remembered thinking that the song’s success in Britain “was unbelievable. It showed how many fans we had there and how attractive the whole California lifestyle is.” It remained at the top for only one week, after which it was supplanted by the Bee Gees‘ I’ve Gotta Get a Message to You.
[Verse 1] It’s automatic when I talk with old friends The conversation turns to girls we knew When their hair was soft and long And the beach was the place to go
[Verse 2] With suntanned bodies and waves of sunshine The California girls and a beautiful coastline And warmed-up weather, let’s Get together and do it again
[Bridge] With a girl, the lonely sea looks good With moonlight Makes your night times warm And out of sight (Been so long) Do, do, do-do-do (Been so long) Do, do, do-do-do (So long, been so long) Been so long
[Guitar Solo] Hey now, hey now, hey now, hey now Hey now, hey now, hey now, hey now Hey now, hey now, hey now, hey now
[Verse 3] Well, I’ve been thinking ’bout all the places We surfed and danced and all the faces We miss, so let’s get Back together and do it again (Come and do it)
Let’s start with soulful folk-pop singer-songwriter Aisha Badru who hails from New York. Her AllMusicbio notes she began playing guitar and singing during high school. After three years of non-music-related studies in college, she dropped out to pursue music. In 2016, a song from a self-released EP was licensed by an automaker for a marketing campaign. The resulting exposure led to a record deal and her April 2018 debut Pendulum. The beautiful In the Making, written by Badru, is from her sophomore album The Sun Still Rises. Her airy vocals drew me in right away.
Each post at Observation Blogger ends with the quote by French musical composer, conductor and jazz pianist – Michel Legrand: “The more I live, the more I learn. The more I learn, the more I realize, the less I know.” It emphasises the importance of lifelong learning and the humility that comes with it; leading us neatly into today’s featured track In The Making by Aisha Badru. This song is a statement of intent and a brave declaration of vulnerability, where Badru looks at how change affects her. Each Saturday, my blogger friend Christian at Christian’s Music Musings writes about brand new song releases and that’s where I first heard In The Making. I couldn’t recommend more highly his Saturday segment for anyone who appreciates music and is curious of the latest offerings.
As Christian stated above – Singer/songwriter Aisha Badrureleased In The Making as a single from sophomore album, The Sun Still Rises, which by the way, sounds awfully like one of my favourite books – The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway which I wrote a series on. Now back to Aisha Badru; Mark Buckley wrote in his article below about how the Nigerian-American artist: ‘Explores uncertainty and, at times, the resultant sense of indecision, it (In the Making) actually looks at those things not as flaws, but as staging posts on a journey to self-improvement and a brighter future‘. Bardu explains further about the track, “In The Making is a reflection on personal evolution and the continuous journey of self-discovery. This song embodies the essence of change, the fluidity of identity, and the desire to break free from expectations.”
Painting a picture Sculpting the clay Who I was yesterday I am not today Floating down a river The river of change Things I saw yesterday I don’t see the same way
I could never be what you want me to be My mind is changing endlessly I’m breaking through every mold and expectation Like when fire heats the sand Where one form ends a new one begins I am always in a state of creation
I’m still in the making (ohh) I’m still in the making (ohh) Weaving a fabric with my own hands Telling a story with every strand Holding my opinions, but never too strong What I got right yesterday, what if I was wrong?
Don’t You Want Me by The Human League was the epitome of cool and sexy in my youth. For decades, it had slipped from my consciousness, only to magically appear to my senses recently like an old flame. The song is a shimmering time capsule of the early ’80s, where glossy synths and glam – infused production reigned supreme. Sure, that era often gets a bad rap for its excess – synth stabs, reverb, drum machines, but here, the overproduction doesn’t just work; it fits Don’t You Want Me like a glove. I also like the vocal interplay between Phil Oakey’s and Susanne Sulley’s which creates this cool, yet infectious tension.
Don’t You Want Me was released in the UK on 27 November 1981 as the fourth single from The Human League’s third album, Dare. The song had initially been intended for Philip Oakey to sing solo, but, inspired by the film A Star Is Born (1976), Oakey decided to turn it into a duet with Susan Ann Sulley, one of the band’s two female singers. For the lyrics, Oakey was inspired by a comic he read in a teen magazine. Oakey says that Don’t You Want Me is not really a love song, but “an unpleasant song about the politics of sexual power.”
Don’t You Want Me was the biggest selling single in England in 1981, reaching number one at Christmas, staying there for five weeks, and has since sold over 1.5 million copies in the UK, making it the 23rd most successful single in British singles history. In the United States, Don’t You Want Me topped the Billboard Hot 100 on July 3, 1982, staying there for three consecutive weeks. In November 1983, Rolling Stone magazine called the single a “breakthrough song.” In 2015, the song was voted the nation’s seventh favourite song by the British public.
[Verse 1: Philip Oakey] You were workin’ as a waitress in a cocktail bar When I met you I picked you out, I shook you up, and turned you around Turned you into someone new Now five years later on, you’ve got the world at your feet Success has been so easy for you But don’t forget, it’s me who put you where you are now And I can put you back down too
[Pre-Chorus: Philip Oakey] Don’t, don’t you want me? You know I can’t believe it when I hear that you won’t see me Don’t, don’t you want me? You know I don’t believe you when you say that you don’t need me It’s much too late to find You think you’ve changed your mind You’d better change it back or we will both be sorry
[Chorus: Philip Oakey] Don’t you want me, baby? Don’t you want me? Oh Don’t you want me, baby? Don’t you want me? Oh
[Verse 2: Susan Ann Sulley] I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar That much is true But even then, I knew I’d find a much better place Either with or without you The five years we have had have been such good times I still love you But now I think it’s time I live my life on my own I guess it’s just what I must do
It is a love song (Tangled Up In Blue), and a song about how it feels to have a personal history.. it is also a great road song, filled with the essential energy of the American highway. The Minnesota musicians Dylan performs with here achieve an unforgettable groove, bass and drums and acoustic guitars (one a twelve-string, it sounds almost like a harpsichord at times) totally blended into a new and different wild mercury sound. – Paul Williams (Bob Dylan: Performing Artist, Vol 2: The Middle Years 1974-1986)
In 2012, I conducted a survey on the Expecting Rain Bob Dylan discussion forum for participants to list their 10 favourite Bob Dylan songs. 58 submissions of 10 favourite songs were received with a total of 147 Bob Dylan songs voted. Today’s featured song Tangled Up in Blue came in at No.2 such is its regard amongst Dylanholics. You can view the rest of the results here.
Tangled Up in Blue is one of five songs on Blood on the Tracks that Dylan initially recorded in New York City in September 1974 and then re-recorded in Minneapolis in December that year; the later recording became the album track and single. It reached No. 31 on the Billboard Hot 100. Rolling Stone ranked it No. 68 on their list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time.
Dylan had moved to a farm in Minnesota with his brother, David Zimmerman, and there started to write the songs that were recorded for his album Blood on the Tracks. David Zimmerman was the producer for the Minneapolis Blood on the Tracks recordings, but was not credited on the album. In the spring of 1974, Dylan had taken art classes at Carnegie Hall and was influenced by his tutor Norman Raeben, and in particular Raeben’s view of time, when writing the lyrics.
I was trying to do something that I don’t know if I was prepared to do. I wanted to defy time, so that the story took place in the present and past at the same time. When you look at a painting, you can see any part of it or see all of it together. I wanted that song to be like a painting.
– Bob Dylan (to Bill Flanagan, March 1985)
Tangled Up in Blue and the album as a whole represented a return of the great Bob Dylan from his glory days of the trilogy Bringing It All Back Home, Highway 61 Revisited, and Blonde on Blonde. The song has a most dazzling lyric. It’s said Dylan continuously reworked the lyrics during the recordings, mostly telling the story in the third person singular, probably to signify that the narrator was a witness, not an actor. In the official version, however, he sings in the first person singular, as if he wants to indicate a personal involvement.
“[This song] took me 10 years to live, and two years to write,” Dylan often said before playing Tangled Up in Blue in concert. His marriage to Sara Lowndes was crumbling in 1974 around the time he wrote this and some even suggested the songs were wrung from an anguished Dylan which is probably an over-simplification. Jakob Dylan, the third child Dylan had with Lowndes, described the song lyrics as “my parents talking.” But Dylan denied any autobiographical connections. “It didn’t pertain to me,” he said during a 1985 interview.
[Verse 1] Early one morning the sun was shining I was laying in bed Wondering if she’d changed at all If her hair was still red Her folks they said our lives together Sure was going to be rough They never did like Mama’s homemade dress Papa’s bankbook wasn’t big enough And I was standing on the side of the road Rain falling on my shoes Heading out for the East Coast Lord knows I’ve paid some dues Getting through Tangled up in blue
[Verse 2] She was married when we first met Soon to be divorced I helped her out of a jam, I guess But I used a little too much force We drove that car as far as we could Abandoned it out west Split up on a dark sad night Both agreeing it was best She turned around to look at me As I was walking away I heard her say over my shoulder “We’ll meet again someday On the avenue” Tangled up in blue
[Verse 3] I had a job in the great north woods Working as a cook for a spell But I never did like it all that much And one day the ax just fell So I drifted down to New Orleans Where I lucky was to be employed Working for a while on a fishing boat Right outside of Delacroix But all the while I was alone The past was close behind I seen a lot of women But she never escaped my mind And I just grew Tangled up in blue
[Verse 4] She was working in a topless place And I stopped in for a beer I just kept looking at the side of her face In the spotlight, so clear And later on, when the crowd thinned out I was just about to do the same She was standing there, in back of my chair Said, “Tell me, don’t I know your name?” I muttered something underneath my breath She studied the lines on my face I must admit, I felt a little uneasy When she bent down to tie the laces Of my shoe Tangled up in blue
[Verse 5] She lit a burner on the stove And offered me a pipe “I thought you’d never say hello,” she said “You look like the silent type” Then she opened up a book of poems And handed it to me Written by an Italian poet From the thirteenth century And every one of them words rang true And glowed like burning coal Pouring off of every page Like it was written in my soul From me to you Tangled up in blue
[Verse 6] I lived with them on Montague Street In a basement down the stairs There was music in the cafes at night And revolution in the air Then he started into dealing with slaves And something inside of him died She had to sell everything she owned And froze up inside And when it finally, the bottom fell out I became withdrawn The only thing I knew how to do Was to keep on keeping on Like a bird that flew Tangled up in blue
[Verse 7] So now I’m going back again I got to get to her somehow All the people we used to know They’re an illusion to me now Some are mathematicians Some are carpenter’s wives Don’t know how it all got started I don’t know what they’re doing with their lives But me, I’m still on the road A-heading for another joint We always did feel the same We just saw it from a different point Of view Tangled up in blue
“When I listen to it now, it’s obviously a brilliant, well-crafted pop song. I’m embarrassed we dissed it so much.”
– Guitarist Charlie Burchill (Simple Minds) talking about Don’t You (Forget About Me)
This song which almost noone wanted including initially the Scottish rock band Simple Minds itself became the group’s biggest international hit. The song Don’t You (Forget About Me) was written and composed by the record producer Keith Forsey and the guitarist Steve Schiff for the film The Breakfast Club. Simple Minds were offered a private screening of The Breakfast Club in an effort to change their minds, but they still declined. Their lead vocalist, Jim Kerr, said later: “We couldn’t give a toss about teenage American schoolkids“.
Don’t You (Forget About Me) was originally offered to The Fixx, Bryan Ferry and Billy Idol they all declined (Idol did however record his own version years later). Forsey then asked Simple Minds, who as aforementioned initially refused but eventually agreed per suggestion of their label, A&M. It’s said that the band rearranged and recorded the song in three hours and “promptly forgot about it,” considering it just another song they recorded for somebody. They felt they should only record their own material. But in the wiki reference below: Kerr’s wife, the songwriter Chrissie Hynde of the Pretenders, liked the song and urged him to record it.
Simple Minds, known for their new wave and post-punk style and Don’t You (Forget About Me) would go on to top the US Billboard Hot 100 chart (and No. 7 on the UK chart), making it Simple Minds‘ biggest hit (in the U.S.) to date. I heard it at the gym recently and thought I should really have it in my music library project although I was never taken with it in my youth. To me it now evokes a Smiths-esque charm with its teasing vocal delivery and playfulness which hooks me right in. It speaks about the desire to be remembered and the anxiety that comes with potentially fading from someone’s thoughts and affections.
[Refrain] Hey, hey, hey, hey Ooh, woah
[Verse 1] Won’t you come see about me? I’ll be alone, dancing, you know it, baby Tell me your troubles and doubts Giving me everything inside and out and Love’s strange, so real in the dark Think of the tender things that we were working on Slow change may pull us apart When the light gets into your heart, baby
[Chorus] Don’t you forget about me Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t Don’t you forget about me
[Post-Chorus] Will you stand above me? Look my way, never love me Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling Down, down, down Will you recognize me? Call my name or walk on by Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling Down, down, down, down
[Refrain] Hey, hey, hey, hey Ooh, whoa
[Verse 2] Don’t you try and pretend It’s my feeling we’ll win in the end I won’t harm you or touch your defenses Vanity, insecurity, ah Don’t you forget about me I’ll be alone, dancing, you know it, baby Goin’ to take you apart I’ll put us back together at heart, baby
Irish Singer Songwriter Glen Hansard is no stranger to this blog. I first wrote about him when I reviewed the surprise packet 2007 indie romantic film – Once in which he played a music busker who befriends another musician Markéta Irglová. Their song from the film Falling Slowly won the Academy Award for Best Original Song. I also saw Glen Hansard open for Bob Dylan (twice) in Melbourne the same year his film was released. Allow me to digress one moment…It’s very serendipitous how I see Bob Dylan in Sydney 2001 the night before he received his Academy Award for Things Have Changed from the movieWonder Boys and then I see Glen Hansard open for Bob in 2007 and soon thereafter he wins the same Academy Award for Falling Slowly in Once. Anyhows, on to today’s featured song.
I would never have thought a Britney Spears song would appear on my blog, but here we are with Everytime. Britney must be praised for her creation here that beautifully captures the heartbreak, regret, and longing of losing a loved one and the desire for reconciliation. Everytime was at the time allegedly about Spears’s ex-partner Justin Timberlake. Glen Hanson recorded it during a live show at Today FM and then released it on the Irish charity covers compilation, Even Better than the Real Thing Vol. 2. Britney’s original version is a piano based pop ballad (which received universal acclaim from music critics and understandably so), where as Hanson’s is an acoustic guitar and violin folk ballad. The only part of Hanson’s version which falls flat for me is the lackluster ‘bridge’, but otherwise I find it tip-top.
Hansard’s version also features Colm Mac Con Iomaire a fellow Irish composer and musician who plays keyboards, violin and sings with Glen’s band The Frames. Iomaire also played violin for an artist who has featured prominently in my blog – David Gray on his 1998 album White Ladder (on the track Silver Lining).
[Verse 1] Notice me Take my hand Why are we Strangers when
[Pre-Chorus] Our love is strong? Why carry on without me?
[Chorus] Every time I try to fly, I fall Without my wings, I feel so small I guess I need you, baby And every time I see you in my dreams I see your face, it’s haunting me I guess I need you, baby
[Verse 2] I make believe That you are here It’s the only way I see clear
[Pre-Chorus] What have I done? You seem to move on easy
[Chorus]
[Bridge] I may have made it rain Please forgive me My weakness caused you pain And this song’s my sorry
As many of you may know, Garth Hudson, the last surviving member of The Band (second from the right above), passed away recently on January 21, 2025. Today’s article is dedicated to one of Canada’s finest musical exports – The Band. However, as my blogger friend Max at PowerPop pointed out in his article on King Harvest (where I first heard this song), while Levon Helm was from Arkansas, the rest of the group were Canadian. The Band have already appeared here 7 times and their previous entry was Stage Fright from their legendary The Last Waltz concert.
King Harevst is the chronicle of an unlucky farmer who suffers a steady stream of disasters in the Dust Bowl of the 1930s, when severe drought caused massive dust storms and economic devastation. He turns to organized labor for hope. This perhaps referencing the organizing drives of the communist-affiliated Trade Union Unity League, which created share-cropper unions from 1928 to 1935, throughout the U.S. South. Robbie Robertson is a fan of John Steinbeck’s novels about this time, including The Grapes of Wrath. The Band’s music was often deeply rooted in historical and geographical narratives, and King Harvest is no exception.
Robbie Robertson: “It’s just a kind of character study in a time period. At the beginning, when the unions came in, they were a saving grace, a way of fighting the big money people, and they affected everybody from the people that worked in the big cities all the way around to the farm people. It’s ironic now, because now so much of it is like gangsters, assassinations, power, greed, insanity. I just thought it was incredible how it started and how it ended up.”
King Harvest originally appeared as the final track on their second album The Band and is credited solely to guitarist Robbie Robertson, although drummer/singer Levon Helm claimed that King Harvest was a group effort. It is a slow-burning, brooding piece which starts with a subdued, almost ghostly opening, before swelling into a blues-inflected groove which lends to its themes of rural hardship and desperation. The song features The Band’s signature mix of rustic Americana, country, and rock elements, with Garth Hudson’s swirling organ. The vocals embody the broken spirit of the farmer, with his earthy, Southern-tinged delivery and was tailor-made for this tale of hardship.
The title itself, King Harvest, refers to a fruitful harvest season – a metaphor for prosperity – but the song’s tone suggests that such rewards remain just out of reach.
[Chorus 1] Corn in the fields Listen to the rice when the wind blows ‘cross the water King Harvest has surely come
[Verse 1] I work for the union ’cause she’s so good to me And I’m bound to come out on top That’s where she said I should be I will hear every word the boss may say For he’s the one who hands me down my pay Looks like this time I’m gonna get to stay I’m a union man, now, all the way
[Chorus 2] The smell of the leaves From the magnolia trees in the meadow King Harvest has surely come
[Verse 2] A dry summer, and then come fall Which I depend on most of all Hey, rainmaker, can’t you hear the call? Please let these crops grow tall! Long enough I’ve been up on Skid Row And it’s plain to see, I’ve nothing to show I’m glad to pay those union dues Just don’t judge me by my shoes
[Chorus 3] A scarecrow and a yellow moon Pretty soon, the carnival on the edge of town King Harvest has surely come
[Verse 3] Last year, this time, wasn’t no joke My whole barn went up in smoke Our horse Jethro, well, he went mad And I can’t ever remember things being that bad Now here come a man with a paper and pen Tellin’ us our hard times are about to end And then, if they don’t give us what we like He said, “Men, that’s when you gotta go on strike!”
[Chorus 4]
The music video below was filmed in 1970 at Robbie Robertsons’ studio in Woodstock.
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