Paul Kelly

Paul Kelly - Every Fucking City

It's funny how we treat our musical heros like friends. I used to really like Paul Kelly. We were 'pals' during the '80's. He was often found on my turntable with his nifty tunes and brilliant songsmithery. The radio embraced him. Every album was devoured, every single worshipped. But then, we drifted apart. He wanted to explore different things. We were both getting older and our tastes were changing. His songs didn't seem to connect anymore.

I bump into him sometimes around the place now - the odd festival, an appearance here or there - and the things that made me like him then - his special qualities as a songwriter and a performer of his songs - still keep the feelings warm between us. This live track is an example. Armed only with an acoustic guitar, a few simple chords, a key change here and there and his most deadly of weapons - a wonderfully deft turn of phrase, he leads the crowd through a classic tale of antipodean backpacking (mis)adventure in Europe.

And his kiss-off at the end of the song just kills every time.

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God

God - My Pal

Proof that brutal simplicity and pure inspiration outweighs technical proficiency and musical craft every time. God fashioned this definitive statement of impassioned teenage alienation out of a single spiky guitar riff that embodies the desperation of the song. Joel's vocals are raw, throaty and wretched. "You're my only friend/but you don't even like me", he wails fitfully. Appropriately, the song combusts in a whirlwind of drums and some immaculate supersonic guitar hysterics before crumbling to its knees with THAT riff the only thing left standing.

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Doc and Merle Watson

Doc and Merle Watson - Listening to the Rain

This here is the sound of talent blooming. In 1998, some dusty tapes from 1967 of legendary flat-picker Doc Watson and his gifted son, Merle punching out some tunes were released. These tapes were (almost) seamlessly embellished by the addition of other modern players inspired by what they heard. Merle was just 18 when these songs were recorded and had been playing the banjo for a mere 5 months. The results are wonderful. You can sense the energy of Merle's playing, with Doc urging him on. Doc's everyman voice suits this song perfectly too. No warm three part harmonies here, thank you. This is the tale of a solitary man. Worry and jealously are playing on his mind. He's nearing breaking point. The song finishes with the story unresolved but the real tale ends in tragedy, of course, as Merle was lost to us in a tractor accident in 1985.

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The Moffs

The Moffs - Another Day in the Sun

Back in the eighties, this little Sydney band unlocked one of the secrets of the timeless pop song and they wisely but tragically never made another song like it.

The pacing is perfect. Lead the listener in with a simple drum beat, then introduce an elementary bass line. Ok, now for some church organ chords. Nice. Now the key to the song - a studied guitar solo of simple beauty that drives the song forward. Hold those vocals, though, they're not needed yet. Let the guitar play out the song's inspired melody. That's the secret - put the solo up front. Ok, we're 2:13 into the song - the vocals come in now and suddenly you can visualise the group - a moppy fringed lead singer, some stage smoke obscuring the band, their heads are down and nodding to the beat, there's probably some paisley in there somewhere. They know they've got it right so they do the right thing and bring the song home the way they built it up - piece by piece. There's a guitar solo refrain and it ebbs away to leave a piano to trace the remnants of the tune.