Dubious Song Lyrics #5 'Delilah'

Inspired by Simon's fine list-based blog, I've decided to enter into the end-of-year spirit with a Christmas countdown of my own. At the risk of being slightly esoteric, my list reflects an obsession that I've had for many years, and I've always promised myself that if I ever had the guts and/or talent to try stand-up comedy, chatting about this obsession would be a staple of my live set.

My obsession is with dubious song lyrics.

Just to clarify, this isn't a list of 'bad' (i.e. poorly written) lyrics, of which there are millions. Rather, I hope to count down the five lyrics which actually breech the boundaries of taste, decency and legality, and yet which remain spectacularly popular and (in most cases) provide popular singalongs for a public who perhaps don't subject them to sufficient semantic scrutiny.

The first is a song so popular it has been embraced on football and rugby terraces, most famously by Stoke City fans. 'Delilah' by Tom Jones starts as our protagonist (let's call him 'Tom') casually spies on/stalks 'his woman': 'I saw the light on the night that I passed by her window / I saw the flickering shadows of love on her blind'. Unperturbed by this obvious sign of infidelity, Tom stays throughout the act, just to ensure he's been truly cuckolded: 'As she deceived me I watched and went out of my mind'.

Tom surmises from this act of voyeurism that 'this girl is no good' for him, before jumping into a sea of mixed metaphors: 'But I was lost like a slave that no man could free'. Correct me if I'm wrong, but based on my knowledge of the slave trade, being 'lost' was not the most pertinent feature of a slaves predicament. Surely the physical and mental torture, as well as the degrading racism, were more pressing issues to a slave than being a bit 'lost'?

Nevertheless, Tom continues: 'At break of day when that man drove away I was waiting', implying that he had no intention of confronting the man actually having an affair with 'his' woman, in turn, implying that he doesn't blame this mysterious gent and that Delilah was entirely responsible for their evening of nuptials. Gallantly, Tom 'cross[es] the street to her house and she open[s] the door', at which point, (and somewhat conveniently for Tom) Delilah stands there laughing. Now either the chuckling Delilah is pathologically cruel-hearted and callous or Tom needed to quickly add some conjecture to ensure that, as listeners, we were on his side. I'm surprised he just stopped at laughing - couldn't she have been murdering puppies, or making obscene calls to Andrew Sachs, just to be on the safe side?

Anyway, Tom does what any respectable man would do and pulls a knife out on her. He seems to be particularly pleased with this act of insane violence as he assures us 'she laughed no more'. Well, that's a relief - you've taken the comedy out of the situation - well done, Tom.

The song ends as Tom pleads for forgiveness 'before they come to break down the door', suggesting that at least he had the decency to barge his way in and carry out the murder behind the previously open aperture.

Perhaps the most alarming thing about this song is not the incredibly distressing central narrative; rather, it is the euphoric, anthemic musical accompaniment. The bouncing melody of the verse is so seductive it might as well buy all your drinks and offer to pay the taxi fare, inevitably building to the orgasmically catchy chorus. Set to a dark, brooding musical landscape (imagine, say, a Joy Division version) the song would make sense. But as it is, Delilah is a party anthem, where you drunkenly put your arm around the person next to you, give them a wink and say, without a trace of irony: If I ever caught my girlfirend cheating, I'd murder her.

Aftermath

I've always believed that in order for a song to be truly great, what it needs most is that intangible, often elusive quality: context. Now, far be it for me to proclaim a song that I was involved with as 'great', but I do feel that 'Aftermath' was the most perfectly-formed of Tokyo Beatbox's repertoire. Lyrically speaking, the title derived from a double-whammy of influences, it having been the name of a Rolling Stones album and one of the names considered by James, Nicky and Sean (Richey hadn’t joined at that point) before settling for 'Manic Street Preachers'. It was at the stage of the band where we were trying to move on from our first crop of songs, but lots of petty irritations kept getting in the way. It was a dialogue inspired by The Libertines' 'Can't Stand Me Now' and encapsulated my relationships with several different people at the time. This song is also a perfect example of how Simon's music could instantly and perfectly complement the lyrical sentiments: the music is choppy, turbulent, chaotic. That we were completely in love with Bloc Party at the time is also pretty apparent.

 

This (live) video was shot and edited by my good friend Steve Naish at one of our soundchecks. You can tell that we're cold, rusty and that Andy hasn't brought enough drums and cymbals with him. You can also tell that Chris didn't have time to get changed, hence his 'travelling salesman' look. But I think you can also tell that there's a pretty good song in their too - with a sense of angst and frustration, but also of understanding and redemption. In many ways it was the great 'lost' TB number, as we never made CD copies and stopped gigging soon after recording. Please click and enjoy!

Pest control

On my way to and from work i pass many shops and buisnesses.
I have a favourite...

.... 'Pest Control', which, i presume, is where you call if you have an animal pest in your house or office etc.

What i love is the sign they have outside their office, next to the road. It has in big letters 'pest of the week', then a gap where the 'pest of the week' can be displayed. I find it funny that someone has a pest of the week, usually these sorts of titles are for good things, but i suppose pests are a good thing for 'pest control' because thats their job!

When i first passed by and saw this sign the cynic in me thought, "i bet that sign never changes, it'll be the same pest for months".
But i have been prooved wrong, there has been many pests given the coverted title of 'pest of the week'; german cockroach, house mouse, mite, bed bugs...

Presently it is the brown rat.
Oh joy of joys, the daily commute!

Those who can't...

I'm being a right curmudgeon at the moment - there are a million good things I could say about my job as a teacher, but just because it's misanthropic-blog-fodder I'm highlighting a downside. Perhaps it really is a case of too much perspective.

What I'm moaning about isn't teaching, nor is it teachers, as such. Rather, my beef is with when these two worlds combine.

To explain, as I came to college teaching via university lecturing, I have to attend evening classes in order to gain a formal teaching qualification. This, coupled with regular course/departmental meetings, means that I regularly get to observe teachers being taught. There's more abundant irony than an Alanis Morissette lyric meeting.

You see, you'd expect that people who spend 9am til 4pm every day, asking classes of students to listen, stop chatting, put their phones away etc. to behave impeccably when a fellow teacher, a comrade in class control, attempts to address a crowd of which they are a part. This couldn't be further from the truth. Perhaps teachers' brains are hard-wired to assume that everything they say is worth hearing and that every classroom is their classroom. Perhaps the excitement of being surrounded by fellow teachers really is too much, and it's only natural that the gossiping flows the moment the students have gone. Yet I still can't help but be surprised at the phenomenal levels of rudeness that some teachers display in such a situation - especially when the team meeting/training course in question is in place for their benefit. It's the ultimate blind-spot - often the worst culprits are the teachers who suffer most from (or, at least, complain the loudest about) the behaviour of their groups.

At the training session I attended tonight, I saw two teachers passing notes and two others mumbling to each other throughout the course leader's presentation. In these situations, I'm always reminded of this legendary piece of television, yet frustrated by the fact there's no camera for me to silently transmit my disgust to, in true Tim Canterbury/Stan Laurel fashion.

Of course, it's important to share experiences and ideas with your colleagues. But if you added up the amount of time in your life that's been wasted by misbehaving classmates at school, timewasting fellow students at Uni, or procrastinating, self-absorbed colleagues at work, I'm sure the total figure would be frightening.

And of course, right now it's me who's self-absorbed, and you could argue that writing a blog is just a glorified form of procrastination. But I wonder if any other profession can boast such a perfect form of ... is hypocrisy too strong a word? ... let's settle on ... professional irony. I'm sure there are some pretty unhealthy GPs out there, and there have always been corrupt politicians and immoral journalists. But, just now, nothing seems quite as blatant, or quite as annoying, as a naughty teacher.

Special Needs

If you really want a laugh this Xmas, check out the customer reviews for this. I've never known someone have so much contempt for their fans. He's already released 3 DVD versions of the same stand-up show, but apparently even that wasn't the nadir. Never has someone gone, so literally, from the sublime to the ridiculous.

Simon Amstell summed it up best on Buzzcocks this week: "I'm glad he's brought out a new DVD - I need a present for someone I hate who's thick."

Episode 1

Please click here to discover episode 1 of the Two Wise Men podcasts. Please let us know what you think and we can discuss your comments/insults in our next episode!

MISSING

Have you seen this man? Committed drinker, convicted dogger, poet, scoundrel, shoulder shrugger, skin slammer, silent but deadly. Known to answer to the name 'Stixey'. Hasn't answered any of my calls or emails* If you see him staggering between a dartboard and East Street, do not approach. He has some dubious political views.**

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE
REWARD: £2.00





*no calls have been made and no emails sent.
** very dubious