Audiogrammes

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Posts Tagged ‘The Marvelettes

Audiogramme du mardi 8 Mars 2016

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1. Ramsey Lewis – Do What You Wanna
2. Freddy Martin – Bumble Boogie (feat. Jack Fina)
3. The Rivingtons – Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow
4. Richard Berry & The Pharaohs – Louie Louie
5. Chuck Berry – Havana Moon
6. Kay Kyser – Managua Nicaragua (feat. Gloria Wood & Group)
7. Fred Astaire – Carioca
8. Colette Magny – Melocoton
9. Colette Renard – Les Nuits D’une Demoiselle
10. Julie London – Cry Me A River
11. The Drifters – Under The Boardwalk
12. The Staple Singers – I Wish I Had Answered
13. Ella Fitzgerald – Don’t Cha Go Way Mad
14. The Marvelettes – Please Mr. Postman
15. Martha Reeves & The Vandellas – (Love Is Like A) Heat Wave
16. Johnny “Guitar” Watson – I Say I Love You
17. Aretha Franklin – Lee Cross
18. Lord Tanamo – Come Down
19. Nora Dean – Barbwire
20. Roy & The Dew Drops – Soul Side of the Street
21. Sarah Vaughan – Misty

BONUS:

Return to Sender

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Return-To-Sender

I gave a letter to the postman,
he put it his sack.
Bright in early next morning,
he brought my letter back.

She wrote upon it:
Return to sender, address unknown.
No such number, no such zone.
We had a quarrel, a lover’s spat
I write I’m sorry but my letter keeps coming back.

So then I dropped it in the mailbox
And sent it special D.
Bright in early next morning
it came right back to me.

She wrote upon it:
Return to sender, address unknown.
No such number, no such zone.

This time I’m gonna take it myself
and put it right in her hand.
And if it comes back the very next day
then I’ll understand the writing on it

Return to sender, address unknown.
No such person, no such zone.

So it’s just an excuse to put a few postman songs… should I just put 2, since he always rings twice?

Anyway, I can’t but post this one.

(Stop)
Oh yes, wait a minute Mister Postman
(Wait)
Wait Mister Postman
Please Mister Postman, look and see
(Oh yeah)
If there’s a letter in your bag for me
(Please, Please Mister Postman)
Why’s it takin’ such a long time
(Oh yeah)
For me to hear from that boy of mine
There must be some word today
From my boyfriend so far away
Pleas Mister Postman, look and see
If there’s a letter, a letter for me
I’ve been standin’ here waitin’ Mister Postman
So patiently
For just a card, or just a letter
Sayin’ he’s returnin’ home to me
(Mister Postman)
Mister Postman, look and see
(Oh yeah)
If there’s a letter in your bag for me
(Please, Please Mister Postman)
Why’s it takin’ such a long time
(Oh yeah)
For me to hear from that boy of mine
So many days you passed me by
See the tears standin’ in my eyes
You didn’t stop to make me feel better
By leavin’ me a card or a letter
(Mister Postman)
Mister Postman, look and see
(Oh yeah)
If there’s a letter in your bag for me
(Please, Please Mister Postman)
Why’s it takin’ such a long time
(Why don’t you check it and see one more time for me, you gotta)
Wait a minute
Wait a minute
Wait a minute
Wait a minute
(Mister Postman)
Mister Postman, look and see
(C’mon deliver the letter, the sooner the better)
Mister Postman

And here’s the Beatles version

So, to round it up here’s The Letter by The Box Tops

Gimme a ticket for an aeroplane
I ain’t got time to take a fast train
Lonely days are gone, I’m a-goin’ home
‘Cause my baby just wrote me a letter

I don’t care how much money I gotta spend
Got to get back to my baby again
Lonely days are gone, I’m a-goin’ home
‘Cause my baby just wrote me a letter

Well, she wrote me a letter
Said she couldn’t live without me no more
Listen, mister, can’t you see I got to get back
To my baby once more?

Anyway, yeah gimme a ticket for an aeroplane
[ From: http://www.metrolyrics.com/the-letter-lyrics-the-box-tops.html ]
I ain’t got time to take a fast train
Lonely days are gone, I’m a-goin’ home
‘Cause my baby just wrote me a letter

Well, she wrote me a letter
Said she couldn’t live without me no more
Listen, mister, can’t you see I got to get back
To my baby once more?

Anyway, yeah gimme a ticket for an aeroplane
I ain’t got time to take a fast train
Lonely days are gone, I’m a-goin’ home
‘Cause my baby just wrote me a letter
Because my baby just wrote me a letter

Last but not least, a small gift. You could just as well read it. Thanks Lou!
Read it till the end though, it’s crazy!

Waldo Jeffers had reached his limit. It was now Mid-August which meant he had
been separated from Marsha for more than two months. Two months, and all he had
to show was three dog-eared letters and two very expensive long-distance phone
calls. True, when school had ended and she’d returned to Wisconsin, and he to
Locust, Pennsylvania, she had sworn to maintain a certain fidelity. She would
date occasionally, but merely as amusement. She would remain faithful.

But lately Waldo had begun to worry. He had trouble sleeping at night and when
he did, he had horrible dreams. He lay awake at night, tossing and turning
underneath his pleated quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes as he
pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor and the smooth soothing of
some neanderthal, finally submitting to the final caresses of sexual oblivion.
It was more than the human mind could bear.

Visions of Marsha’s faithlessness haunted him. Daytime fantasies of sexual
abandon permeated his thoughts. And the thing was, they wouldn’t understand how
she really was. He, Waldo, alone understood this. He had intuitively grasped
every nook and cranny of her psyche. He had made her smile. She needed him, and
he wasn’t there (Awww…).

The idea came to him on the Thursday before the Mummers’ Parade was scheduled
to appear. He’d just finished mowing and edging the Edelsons lawn for a dollar
fifty and had checked the mailbox to see if there was at least a word from
Marsha. There was nothing but a circular from the Amalgamated Aluminum Company
of America inquiring into his awing needs. At least they cared enough to write.

It was a New York company. You could go anywhere in the mails. Then it struck
him. He didn’t have enough money to go to Wisconsin in the accepted fashion,
true, but why not mail himself? It was absurdly simple. He would ship himself
parcel post, special delivery. The next day Waldo went to the supermarket to
purchase the necessary equipment. He bought masking tape, a staple gun and a
medium sized cardboard box just right for a person of his build. He judged that
with a minimum of jostling he could ride quite comfortably. A few airholes,
some water, perhaps some midnight snacks, and it would probably be as good as
going tourist.

By Friday afternoon, Waldo was set. He was thoroughly packed and the post
office had agreed to pick him up at three o’clock. He’d marked the package
“Fragile”, and as he sat curled up inside, resting on the foam rubber
cushioning he’d thoughtfully included, he tried to picture the look of awe and
happiness on Marshas face as she opened her door, saw the package, tipped the
deliverer, and then opened it to see her Waldo finally there in person. She
would kiss him, and then maybe they could see a movie. If he’d only thought of
this before. Suddenly rough hands gripped his package and he felt himself borne
up. He landed with a thud in a truck and was off.

Marsha Bronson had just finished setting her hair. It had been a very rough
weekend. She had to remember not to drink like that. Bill had been nice about
it though. After it was over he’d said he still respected her and, after all,
it was certainly the way of nature, and even though, no he didn’t love her, he
did feel an affection for her. And after all, they were grown adults. Oh, what
Bill could teach Waldo – but that seemed many years ago.

Sheila Klein, her very, very best friend, walked in through the porch screen
door and into the kitchen. “Oh gawd, it’s absolutely maudlin outside.” “Ach, I
know what you mean, I feel all icky!” Marsha tightened the belt on her cotton
robe with the silk outer edge. Sheila ran her finger over some salt grains on
the kitchen table, licked her finger and made a face. “I’m supposed to be
taking these salt pills, but,” she wrinkled her nose, “they make me feel like
throwing up.” Marsha started to pat herself under the chin, an exercise she’d
seen on television. “God, don’t even talk about that.” She got up from the
table and went to the sink where she picked up a bottle of pink and blue
vitamins. “Want one? Supposed to be better than steak,” and then attempted to
touch her knees. “I don’t think I’ll ever touch a daiquiri again.”

She gave up and sat down, this time nearer the small table that supported the
telephone. “Maybe Bill’ll call,” she said to Sheila’s glance. Sheila nibbled on
a cuticle. “After last night, I thought maybe you’d be through with him.” “I
know what you mean. My God, he was like an octopus. Hands all over the place.”
She gestured, raising her arms upwards in defense. “The thing is, after a
while, you get tired of fighting with him, you know, and after all I didn’t
really do anything Friday and Saturday so I kind of owed it to him. You know
what I mean.” She started to scratch. Sheila was giggling with her hand over
her mouth. “I’ll tell you, I felt the same way, and even after a while,” here
she bent forward in a whisper, “I wanted to!” Now she was laughing very loudly.

It was at this point that Mr. Jameson of the Clarence Darrow Post Office rang
the doorbell of the large stucco colored frame house. When Marsha Bronson
opened the door, he helped her carry the package in. He had his yellow and his
green slips of paper signed and left with a fifteen cent tip that Marsha had
gotten out of her mother’s small beige pocketbook in the den. “What do you
think it is?” Sheila asked. Marsha stood with her arms folded behind her back.
She stared at the brown cardboard carton that sat in the middle of the living
room. “I dunno.”

Inside the package, Waldo quivered with excitement as he listened to the
muffled voices. Sheila ran her fingernail over the masking tape that ran down
the center of the carton. “Why don’t you look at the return address and see who
it’s from?” Waldo felt his heart beating. He could feel the
vibrating footsteps. It would be soon.

Marsha walked around the carton and read the ink-scratched label. “Ah, god,
it’s from Waldo!” “That schmuck!” said Sheila. Waldo trembled with expectation.
“Well, you might as well open it,” said Sheila. Both of them tried to lift the
staple flap. “Ah sst,” said Marsha, groaning, “he must have nailed it shut.”
They tugged on the flap again. “My God, you need a power drill to get this
thing open!” They pulled again. “You can’t get a grip.” They both stood still,
breathing heavily.

“Why don’t you get a scissor,” said Sheila. Marsha ran into the kitchen, but
all she could find was a little sewing scissor. Then she remembered that her
father kept a collection of tools in the basement. She ran downstairs, and when
she came back up, she had a large sheet metal cutter
in her hand. “This is the best I could find.” She was very out of breath.
“Here, you do it. I-I’m gonna die.” She sank into a large fluffy couch and
exhaled noisily. Sheila tried to make a slit between the masking tape and the
end of the cardboard flap, but the blade was too big and there wasn’t enough
room. “God damn this thing!” she said feeling very exasperated. Then smiling,
“I got an idea.” “What?” said Marsha. “Just watch,” said Sheila, touching her
finger to her head.

Inside the package, Waldo was so transfixed with excitement that he could
barely breathe. His skin felt prickly from the heat, and he could feel his
heart beating in his throat. It would be soon. Sheila stood quite upright and
walked around to the other side of the package. Then she sank down to her
knees, grasped the cutter by both handles, took a deep breath, and plunged the
long blade through the middle of the package, through the masking tape, through
the cardboard, through the cushioning and (thud) right through the center of
Waldo Jeffers head, which split slightly and caused little rhythmic arcs of red
to pulsate gently in the morning sun.

Written by audiogrammes

June 30, 2013 at 14:17

Where?

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Well we know where we’re goin’
But we don’t know where we’ve been
And we know what we’re knowin’
But we can’t say what we’ve seen
And we’re not little children
And we know what we want
And the future is certain
Give us time to work it out

We’re on a ride to nowhere
Come on inside
Takin’ that ride to nowhere
We’ll take that ride






I’m feelin’ okay this mornin’
And you know,
We’re on the road to paradise
Here we go, here we go

Maybe you wonder where you are
I don’t care
Here is where time is on our side
Take you there…take you there

We’re on a road to nowhere
We’re on a road to nowhere
We’re on a road to nowhere

There’s a city in my mind
Come along and take that ride
and it’s all right, baby, it’s all right

And it’s very far away
But it’s growing day by day
And it’s all right, baby, it’s all right

Would you like to come along
And to help me sing this song
And it’s all right, baby, it’s all right

They can tell you what to do
But they’ll make a fool of you
And it’s all right, baby, it’s all right
We’re on a road to nowhere






Said to the man at the railroad station
“I want a ticket, just for one”
He said, “well, if you insist
Where you wanna go, a miss? Oh”

Destination anywhere
East or west, I don’t care
You see my baby don’t want me no more
This old world, ain’t got no back door


Mixing it up slightly here. Have you seen The Commitments? Haven’t seen it in ages. I’m scared it might’ve not aged too well. So the Youtube link is the film version, but the download link above is the Marvelettes’.

So we’ve been from nowhere to anywhere…





Sultry in the summer heat.
I know with you we can’t be beat.
Take me somewhere.
Take me somewhere.
Take me somewhere.
Why don’t you take me somewhere?






Can you hear me calling
Out your name
You know that I’m falling
And I don’t know what to say

Come along baby
We better make a start
You better make it soon
Before you break my heart

Oh I…
I want to be with you everywhere


Do you have the impression you’ve heard a recent cover of this song?
Or maybe it was just Cut Copy’s Take Me Over?





To lead a better life I need my love to be here…

Here, making each day of the year
Changing my life with a wave of her hand
Nobody can deny that there’s something there

There, running my hands through her hair
Both of us thinking how good it can be
Someone is speaking but she doesn’t know he’s there

I want her everywhere and if she’s beside me
I know I need never care
But to love her is to need her everywhere
Knowing that love is to share

Each one believing that love never dies
Watching her eyes and hoping I’m always there

I want her everywhere and if she’s beside me
I know I need never care
But to love her is to need her everywhere
Knowing that love is to share

Each one believing that love never dies
Watching her eyes and hoping I’m always there

I will be there and everywhere
Here, there and everywhere






And Bob will sign us off…

I don’t care
How many letters they sent
Morning came and morning went
Pick up your money
And pack up your tent
You ain’t goin’ nowhere

Written by audiogrammes

January 2, 2012 at 18:19

Heart

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Isn’t it a pity
Now, isn’t it a shame
How we break each other’s hearts
And cause each other pain
How we take each other’s love
Without thinking anymore
Forgetting to give back
Isn’t it a pity






Just finished watching Scorsese’s latest music documentary George Harrison: Living in the Material World. This track popped up during the Pattie Boyd / Eric Clapton situation. The DVD is available locally. In the meantime, watch the trailer below. Or download Elliott Smith’s gorgeous cover.





And now, we switch to the Marvelettes’ Danger Heartbreak Dead Ahead





When you give more than you get, you’re in danger (you’re in danger)
You may find that you’re in love with a stranger (with a stranger)
For who knows what evil lurks within the hearts of men?
It’s vanity, insanity to play when you can’t win
When you find that you’re losing, it’s time to get on moving
‘Cause there’s danger: heartbreak dead ahead

It only takes one second, girl, to learn (to learn)
That playing with fire will get you burned (get you burned)
Now girl, don’t you be foolish
They say that love is blind, but it’s clear as the highway sign
That reads “Danger: heartbreak dead ahead”
Heartbreak dead ahead

Read the sign, girl; you’d better mind, girl
Yeah, danger: heartbreak dead ahead

Once the lying starts, start packing up your heart
Listen to me, girl
When there’s nothing to be gained, don’t keep goin’ on in vain
‘Cause there’s danger: heartbreak dead ahead
I said there’s danger, I said there’s danger



And then comes Harry Nilsson’s answer





You’re breakin’ my heart
You’re tearin’ it apart
So fuck you!


And Zappa’s beautiful Finale





You say you can’t live with what you been through
Well, ladies you can be an asshole too
You might pretend you aint got one on the bottom of you
But don’t fool yourself girl, it’s lookin’ at you
Don’t fool yourself girl, it’s winkin’ at you
Don’t fool yourself girl, it’s blinkin’ at you
That’s why I say, “I’m gonna ram it, ram it, ram it ram it up your poop chute”

Written by audiogrammes

November 17, 2011 at 21:16