Tag: Music

Difficult Comparison

Men & Women

Here’s an interesting one:

A new survey of 6,000 respondents from the UK, France, Spain, Italy, Germany and the US has found which European language is considered the most attractive.

The previous poll, which was released in 2017, named French the sexiest language — but that was displaced by this new research.

This year’s survey showed that Italian is now rated as the world’s most attractive language.

Hmmm.  Of course this is subjective, but it’s quite fascinating as a thought exercise.  It’s also difficult to stage the question, because in many cases the respondents may not have actually had experience with hearing the languages spoken in sexy tones or in a sexy context.

One could try to imagine who would sound sexier over a romantic dinner, say Marion Cotillard vs. Monica Bellucci:

…but really, it’s almost impossible.  Now, which one of the above two has the sexier accent when speaking English?  Ooooh, even more difficult.  French is softer, but Italian is more passionate.

Try Françoise Hardy vs. Ornella Vanoni, then.  Even more difficult, and more so when you understand the lyrics — wistful vs. heartbroken.

Maybe a few more choices would help.  Catherine Deneuve vs. Sophia Loren?

How about Melanie Laurent vs. Francesca Dellara?

Okay. I don’t think any of this is helping.  I myself cannot decide between gentle and passionate, so I’m declaring a tie.

Gilly

Friends and Family, Music

Some time back, when I wrote about my time playing in the Atlantic Show Band back in Johannesburg in the ’70s and ’80s, I said this:

“For a few years, we had a girl singer: a 5’2″ little blonde thing named Gillian, who wore the shortest miniskirts in the Western World and had a voice that could stop a Sherman tank.”

I didn’t do her justice with that throwaway comment, because Gilly (not Gillian) was a sensational talent, and the fact is that we under-used her shamefully, for reasons I’ll get to in a while*.  Here she is (and yes, that’s Yer Humble Narrator on the right with his Rickenbacker and Knob on drums):

Gilly was, at 18 (!!!!!) and still in high school, already a consummate professional.  She always knew her lyrics off pat, had perfect pitch, and never came to the practice studio without knowing the songs we were going to get into that day.  When I say that she made Loverboy’s vocalist (in Turn Me Loose) and Stevie Nicks (in Stop Dragging My Heart Around) look like absolute beginners, I am not exaggerating.  (Juice Newton?  Forget about it.)

Seriously:  of all the female vocalists I’ve ever heard live, only Ann Wilson of Heart came close to our little girl.

Anyway, I emigrated, the band eventually broke up (the two things are not related) and Gilly went on her way to become something of a star in South Africa, first as part of a duo with her boyfriend/husband/ex-husband:

…and then in her own right as a solo artist, when she really got to show off:

…and ended up hosting the South African TV equivalent of “_____’s Got Talent”:

Gilly got out of South Africa about fifteen years ago, went back to her native Britain, and carried on singing a bit, only this time with… her daughter (!!!!):

Yes, her daughter (who is now 29):

Only Covid put an end to all that, as Britishland of course went crazy and locked everyone up in their homes.

At this point in these stories of my past, I generally write something tragic.

By various lies and subterfuges I managed to get back in touch with Gilly a couple weeks ago, and we spent ages chatting on the phone and on WhatsApp (along with the surviving members of Atlantic, who of course treated her as badly as we had in the old days — but that was because we always treated her as one of the guys, and she responded in kind).

The only Big Fat Bummer is that I learned that Gilly now lives just down the road from The Englishman’s Farm in Wiltshire, and in fact I’d visited her town several times when I was staying there.  We could have met up back in 2017 already, FFS.  (That sound you hear is me eating my liver with chagrin.)

Anyway, that’s enough from me.  Folks, say hello to Gilly and (at age 21) Big Spender.  Then a little Marilyn… in her forties.

As you may have gathered by now, I miss those days, a lot — and Gilly’s a big part of that.  And the other guys in the band feel the same.

*The main reason we underused Gilly’s voice was that because of her extreme youth, we couldn’t be sure that she wouldn’t dump us and follow another path, leaving us in the lurch.
Also, our principal vocalist was jealous, and refused to let her sing more than a few songs.

We were such idiots.

Feelin’ The Noize

Friday Feature, Movies, Music

I was never a huge fan of loud Brit rockers Slade — I didn’t mind the loud, but it was really simple music, while I was getting into Yes, Emerson Lake & Palmer and Genesis (to name but some).

Still, in those pre-metal days, there were times when you just needed to kick out and jump around, and few were better at kicking-out-and-jumping-around music than the Boys From The Black Country.

“What’s that, honky?  How could they be White boys in Black Country?”

Shuddup and watch this (very) sympathetic treatment of Slade in their heyday, back when they were huge.

And yes, in retrospect, their songs were excellent.

Sadly, it seems as though Noddy has throat cancer, and hasn’t that long to go.  Raw suckage, that is.