Audiogrammes

Radio Liban 96.2FM

Posts Tagged ‘The Velvet Underground

Audiogramme du vendredi 26 Fevrier 2016

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1. The Doors – Love Street
2. John Lennon – Remember
3. ? & The Mysterians – 96 Tears
4. The Velvet Underground – Sweet Jane
5. Talking Heads – Warning Sign
6. Ronnie Spector – Try Some By Some
7. T-Rex/Marc Bolan – 20th Century Boy
8. Steve Forbert – Big City Cat
9. The Rolling Stones – We Love You
10. Roxy Music – 2HB
11. Bruce Springsteen – It’s Hard To Be A Saint In The City
12. Stevie Wonder – Fingertips Pt.2
13. Blondie – Rip Her To Shreds
14. Bob Seger – Beautiful Loser
15. David Bowie – Yassassin
16. The Staple Singers – Tellin’ Lies

BONUS:

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Audiogramme du vendredi 1er Janvier 2016

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1. Kamasi Washington – Theme from Color Guard
2. Bill Ryder-Jones – Sunday Morning
3. Neil Young – Only Love Can Break Your Heart
4. Bahamas – Please Forgive My Heart (Bobby Womack)
5. The Rolling Stones – Beast Of Burden
6. Ibeyi – Stranger / Lover (Mark Ronson Re-fix)
7. Kid Loco – A Little Bit Of Soul
8. Jamie Xx (Featuring Romy) – Loud Places [Herberts Higher Dub]
9. Ducktails – Don’t Want To Let You Know
10. Ana Tijoux – Vengo
11. The Walker Brothers – People Get Ready
12. Strand Of Oaks – Wonderful (The Way I Feel) (My Morning Jacket)
13. The Velvet Underground – Pale Blue Eyes
14. Prince – Creep [Coachella Festival 4/26/2008]

BONUS:

Pause de l’après-midi du jeudi 26 février 2015 / Reprises en V

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1. The Mike Flowers Pops – The Velvet Underground Medley
2. Jabru feat. Maz Totterdell – Valerie (Amy Winehouse)
3. Milk and Sugar – Via Con Me (Paolo Conte)
4. Pomplamoose – Video Killed The Radio Star (The Buggles)
5. Boy George – Video Games (Lana Del Rey)
6. Stephan Eicher – Volutes (Alain Bashung)

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Pause de l’après-midi du vendredi 13 février 2015 / Reprises en K

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1. Kings of Convenience – It’s My Party (Leslie Gore)
2. The Incompetents – I’m Sticking With You (The Velvet Underground)
3. Robyn Hitchcock – Kung Fu Fighting (Carl Douglas)
4. 2:54 – Killer (Seal/Adamski)
5. CSS – Knife (Grizzly Bear)
6. Pocketknife and Cousin Cole – I’m On Fire (Bruce Springsteen)(Cousin Cole’s Bad Desire Remix)

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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

I can’t stand the rain

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Photo © Karen Kalou. Check out her Rain Series. This has been Beirut for the last 2 weeks…


I can’t stand the rain
Against my window
Bringing back sweet memories

Hey window pane
Do you remember
How sweet it used to be






When we was together
Everything was so grand
Now that we’ve parted
There’s just one sound
That I just can’t stand

I can’t stand the rain
Against my window
Bringing back sweet memories

I can’t stand the rain
Against my window
Cause he’s not here with me

Alone with the pillow
Where his head used to lay
I know you’ve got
Some sweet memories
But like the window
You ain’t got nothing to say

I can’t stand the rain
Against my window
Bringing back sweet memories

I can’t stand the rain
Against my window
Bringing back sweet memories
Just keeps on haunting me

Hey rain,
Get off my window…



I think we’re gonna have a “rain post trilogy”. This is officially number 2, after I like Rain.
I love this song. It was Ann Peebles biggest (only hit?) but was also covered by Tina Turner and I originally discovered it in Alan Parker’s The Commitments (yet another northern blue eyed soul discovery…).
Download her whole album here.

There are a lot of songs about rain and tears. The most obvious being Aphrodite’s Child‘s track of the same name. Useless trivia: this psychedelic one hit wonder band launched the careers of 2 of Greece’s biggest musical exports: Demis Roussos and Vangelis!!!!





Rain and tears, are the same
But in the sun
You’ve got to play the game

When you cry
In winter time
You can pretend
It’s nothing but the rain

How many times i’ve seen
Tears coming from your blue eyes

Rain and tears, are the same
But in the sun
You’ve got to play the game

[interlude]
Give me an answer of love
(o—-ooohhh)
I need an answer of love
(o—-ooohhh)
Rain and tears in the sun
But in your heart
You feel the rainbow waves

Rain and tears
Both i shun
For in my heart there ‘ll never be a sun

Rain and tears, are the same
But in the sun
You’ve got to play the game
Game…



And so we go back to Motown and the Temptations who are actually wishing for rain.





Sunshine, blue skies, please go away.
My girl has found another and gone away.
With her went my future, my life is filled with gloom.
So day after day, I stay locked up in my room.
I know to you it might sound strange.
But I wish it would rain. (Oh how I wish that it would rain)
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

‘Cause so badly I wanna go outside. (Such a lovely day)
But everyone knows that a man ain’t supposed to cry, listen.
I gotta cry ‘cause cryin’ eases the pain, oh yeah.
People this hurt I feel inside, words could never explain.
I just wish it would rain (Oh how I wish that it would rain)

Oh, let it rain.
Rain, rain, rain. (Oh how I wish that it would rain)
Oh baby. Let it rain.
(Let it rain) Oh yeah, let it rain.

Day in, day out, my tear-stained face, pressed against the window pane.
My eyes search the skies, desperately for rain.
‘Cause raindrops will hide my teardrops.
And no one will ever know.
That I’m cryin’, (crying) cryin’ (crying) when I go outside.
To the world outside my tears, I refuse to explain.
Oh, I wish it would rain. (Oh how I wish that it would rain)
Oh baby.

Let it rain (Let it rain), let it rain.
I need rain to disguise the tears in my eyes.
Oh, let it rain.
(Let it rain) Oh yeah, yeah listen.
I’m a man and I got my pride.
‘Til it rains I’m gonna stay inside.
Let it rain (Let it rain) …

The instrumental bit reminds me so much of their best know track My Girl. No?

Since we’re talking about the weather, The Velvet Underground are right to ask Who Loves The Sun?





Who loves the sun
Who cares that it makes plants grow
Who cares what it does
Since you broke my heart

Who loves the wind
Who cares that it makes breezes
Who cares what it does
Since you broke my heart

Pa Pa Pa Pa
Who loves the sun
Pa Pa Pa Pa
Who loves the sun
Pa Pa Pa Pa
Not everyone
Pa Pa Pa Pa
Who loves the sun

Who loves the rain
Who cares that it makes flowers
Who cares that it makes showers
Since you broke my heart

Who loves the sun
Who cares that it is shining
Who cares what it does
Since you broke my heart

Pa Pa Pa Pa
Who loves the sun
Pa Pa Pa Pa
Who loves the sun
Pa Pa Pa Pa
Not everyone
Pa Pa Pa Pa
Who loves the sun



Well it seems that Irma Thomas does.





It’s raining so hard
Looks like it’s going
To rain all night
And this is the time
I’d love to be
Holding you tight
I guess I’ll have
To accept the fact
That you are not here
I wish tonight
Would hurry up and end
My dear

It’s raining so hard
It’s really coming down
Sittin’ by my window
Watchin’ the rain
Fall to the ground
This is the time
I’d love to be
Holding you tight
I guess I’ll just go
Crazy tonight

It’s raining so hard
Brings back memories
Of the times
When you were
Here with me
Counting every drop
About to blow my top
I wish this rain
Would hurry up
And stop

I’ve got the blues
So bad
I could hardly
Catch my breath
The harder it rains
The worst it get
This is the time
I’d love to be
Holding you tight
I guess
I’ll just go
Crazy tonight…



And I’m gonna end this post with Karen Dalton tearing you heart out.
(Expect another rain post very soon… it’s probably going to be longer than a trilogy if the weather stays as bad this year in Beirut)





If I should leave you
Try to remember all the good times
Warm days filled with sunshine
And just a little bit of rain

And if you should look back
Try to forget all the bad times
Lonely blue and sad times
And just a little bit of rain

If I should leave you
Try to remember all the good times
Long days filled with sunshine
Just a little bit of rain

Written by audiogrammes

February 1, 2012 at 15:51