30 Songs in 30 Days: Day 27 – A Song That You Wish You Could Play

Can I have all ove them? Every song that’s ever been heard?

Ok, today’s choice is Bruce Springsteen’s Hungry Heart.

I can imagine a good sing-along around the piano to that one

Advertisements

30 Songs in 30 Days: Day 26 – A Song That You Can Play on an Instrument

Silent Night

This one is pushing it, I learnt to play it when very young on the piano. I can probably play it now with one finger

30 Songs in 30 Days: Day 25 – A Song That Makes You Laugh

The Osmonds – Crazy Horses

Only because it reminds me of a company do with a 1970s theme, which I obviously organised.

I have a clear vision of me and others – much older than myself- head banging to it. Yes we thought we were hilarious.

30 Songs in 30 Days: Day 24 – A Song That You Want Played at Your Funeral

I want lots of happy songs at my funeral. I want it to be a celebration of my lovely life and for people to remember the fun times. I’ve had a great life (so far!) and I celebrate that fact every day, I’d love the funeral to represent that.

So obvioulsy there’ll be Abba’s Dancing Queen as that’s the one every one will remember me by. That should be played as they are heading off down to the pub.
But before that, I want them to hear this: (tissues at the ready)

I always meant to find the country original, as per most of Mr Keating’s tunes

30 Songs in 30 Days: Day 23 – A Song That You Want Played at Your Wedding (Or Had Played At Your Wedding)

Day 23 and we reach my all time favourite artist. Like Madonna, I could have put a Bryan Adams track on here almost every day.
I had all sorts of random tracks sneakily added to my wedding, which I themed Goodfellars so technically it would have been sixties music, not my favourite era. I booked the band, my ex-husband’s best mate’s based on the promised they would play Neil Young’s ‘Rockin’ in the Free World’.
And then there was this
Bryan Adams – There Will Never Be Another Tonight

Book – Just Kids, Patti Smith

More often than not, I make brief notes when I’m reading a book making the review a little easier. I didn’t in this case.

I’m besotted from the minute I start reading it and just didn’t want to stop mid-sentence to write any words.

It tells the story of Ms Smith’s growing up, or rather growing of age in New York and as the wonderful cover depicts, with soul mate Robert Mapplethorpe. There is a little on both their backgrounds which wonderfully sets the scene of all their escapades from the late 1960s until the time of Robert’s death in 1989.

Their first break was being accepted into New York’s Chelsea Hotel where all of the artists of the day lived, even if they could afford their own place. Testimony to this is that the couple, as they sometimes were and other times just inseparable best friends, that when they could afford it, they took on two rooms opposite the hotel in which to work and sleep but still kept their room at the Chelsea, to use the bathroom if nothing else.

What their work was going to be was unknown up until they moved into the Chelsea, where the manager accepted residents who where penniless in exchange for art or other work. Robert always seemed destined to be an artist of some kind whereas Patti started with poetry, dabbled in art and acting before finally putting her words together with music.

There is a tinge of sadness throughout; poverty, heartbreak and deaths, most notably of Joni Mitchell, Jimmi Hendrix and Andy Warhol litter their lives when they finally join the much coveted membership to New York’s bohemian artsy scene they so craved. Patti surprisingly, especially in those times, stayed away from drugs and drinking and came out of this destructive yet hugely creative period of the 1970s relatively unscathed. She even went on to have two children with her late husband, Fred Sonic Smith whilst maintaining her beautiful friendship with Robert. They were true soul mates.

I just adore every moment of this beautiful book that is essentially about friendship.

8½/10

Smile factor 9/10

 

From the jacket:

Just Kids starts as a love story and ends as a elegy. It serves as a salute to New York City during the late sixties and seventies, and to it’s rich and poor, its hustlers and hellions. A true fable, it is a portrait of two young artists ascent, a prelude to fame.