AND THEN THERE WAS TWO

I Bet You Were Expecting A "Number Two" Joke
Elton John, "Are You Ready For Love?" (radio rip)

HA! And you thought this week was going to be nothing but old shit you'd already downloaded before - what other route could I possibly take than to seize upon today as my cue to post something (1) new and (2) astonishing as a reward for my intrepid readers brave/lame enough to visit this site on a Friday? I mean, I couldn't possibly have overlooked the fact that I'd never actually, y'know, posted this song before today, right? This text you're reading - yes, this stuff, even these words following that dash - it couldn't possibly have been whipped up on the fly, right? Damn right it couldn't.

But come on, children; today is a day of celebration and sweetness and light and punting adorable puppies down the street (presuming that you share my utter contempt for all dogs ever born ever). And really, there isn't a better way to get that point across than with this song, or more specifically with this particular recording of this song. The words "radio rip" above may lead you to believe that you're about to find yourself face to face with some preposterously lush, never-to-be-heard again arrangement detailed to Joe Coelman-esque levels when, in fact, the only major difference that I can hear between the commercial version of "Are You Ready For Love" and the radio rip posted here is the female vocalist present in the commercial and absent in the rip. Apart from that, the songs are pretty much identical - I mean, we're talking about Elton John here, not the Knife.

There is, however, The Greatest Instance Of A Radio Announcer Insisting Upon Talking Over A Very Great Song in the history of radio rips, if not radio altogether. I realize that my UK readers probably won't agree with me; as if it's not bad enough that I'm forcing them to endure my out-flippage over a British chart-topper which doubtlessly soundtracked a squillion questionable ads ("ARE YOU READY...ARE YOU READY FOR SPUDS?", I presume), I'm forcing them to do so in the company of - hell, almost on the basis of - some insufferable British radio dong. Lord knows if it were 2002 and my favorite British mp3 blog were bubbling over with praise for that time Jed the Fish was playing the Strokes' "Hard to Explain" and found himself unable to keep from injecting his PERSONALITY!!!!!!! into that split-second when the song drops away, breathily intoning something like "BOY I SURE LOVE IT WHEN THE SONG DROPS OUT LIKE THIS" before returning to some Cheeto-stained idyll... in the interest of derailing this train before it crushes any more innocent children, let's just say that I wouldn't exactly be thrilled about that particular post, and I can't help but understand why someone would skip over this one.

Of course, doing so would mean voluntarily passing up "Are You Ready For Love?", a decision only marginally less retarded than voluntarily performing a vasectomy on yourself while racing a dirtbike. I'm not going to be going into the reasons why, partially because I'm pretty sure every adjective my brain can possibly store that's even remotely capable of describing the way a 70s Philly soul song can sound good is available simply by CTRL-F'ing on this page, but more substantially because anyone who needs a guide to why this song sounds good should really just go ahead and shoot themselves. If you can't hear the fun, the exuberance, the unconquerable joy so palpable in every level of this song, from the production to the arrangement to GOOD FUKN KRYSTE THE PERFORMANCE...is that even possible? Is there even a second half to that sentence? I mean, even if it's your poor, unfortunate lot in life to be a lunch-hour DJ on Radio Shropshire and the hundred billion less-than-articulate requests for this song courtesy of unhip British housewives and closet cases has long since driven you to the brink of homicide - you honestly can't hear all the joy in this song?

Well, I can tell you one person who can - Mr. Nameless Gilles Peterson Wannabe*, that's who. The part of this song that's the actual, y'know, song part is obviously flat-out unstoppable, and the breakdown is pretty sickeningly tremendous on its own, but the thing that keeps me coming back to this rip time and time again, either for my own gratification or to pass the virus on to someone else, is just the uncontrollable grin that you can practically hear creeping across this dude's face as the song just keeps building and swelling and shockingly managing to not get even a little bit shitty. I mean, just listen to how much relish he pours onto that "BUT...this could make the playlist!" or that quick-yet-functional recap of the song's history or, above and beyond anything else, that nearly-subconscious little grunt of approval right when It All Comes Together Again Right Before The End. Is it an act? Sure, probably; if radio DJs in North Carolina can muster up the kind of wild-eyed enthusiasm for Brian Adams' "Everything I Do (I Do It For You)" more typically found in your less reasonable Tool fans for like forty straight weeks - and since that's literally the only thing I remember about 1991 apart from the words "Back and to the left", that's not a hypothetical - then of course it's a distinct possibility, if not an outright certainty slipping under my radar cloaked by a British accent. Even I'm not that naive. I am, however, saying that even if it's fake joyous enthusiasm, it sure matches up well with (1) the song itself and (2) the reaction the song generates within the walls of my brain, and as far as I know, neither the song nor I were faking it. As a song, it's merely one of my favorite songs ever; as a work of found-object art, it's rubbing elbows with transcendence. And yet somehow Ruder Than You made it onto this space first. Kill yr idols, kids. (Click here to buy The Complete Thom Bell Sessions - oh yeah, I may have forgotten to mention that "Are You Ready For Love" was produced and arranged by Thom Bell and backed by MFSB; ACK LIKE YA KNOW - from Amazon.co.uk)

*if not Gilles Peterson himself, of course - DON'T TREAD ON ME.

GOD I CAN'T WAIT TO STOP WRITING
Guillemots, "Trains To Brazil"

"Well" he said before he slipped through through the iris of light separating this world from the next, "at least I got that one right."

(Click here to buy Through The Windowpane, the debut album from (the?) Guillemots featuring "Trains To Brazil", from Amazon.co.uk)

All around-fucking aside, I did want to say thanks to anyone who's ever read or linked to or even just downloaded and enjoyed a song or two off of this fine paperless institution; I'm sure it will come as no great surprise that I am not so much the greatest when it comes to keeping the furnaces of my interests stoked, and there's just no way I could have made it a full year without a preturnaturally receptive audience. Rest assured - tonight I drink deeply from the mason jar I keep filled with the gargantuan salty tears of appreciation I find myself unable to repress every time this site's comment form is used for any purpose other than shilling methods to increase the volume of my ejaculate. Special thanks to Nate, Jen, Brian, Amanda, Shaun, Dwayne, Joe (Lia), James, Matthew, Cindy, Mike, Phil, NF, Sean, Kitty, the kidz at GWfAS and Dreams of Horses, Alison, Dave, Meredith, Gregg, Joe, and Ryan, not to mention everyone who ever emailed me for any reason and All Them Folks From England And New York Who Know Who They Are What Done Emailed Me Who Shall Remain Nameless.

Anyway. Normal service resumes next week; I for one plan on enjoying two whole days in a row where I don't have to spend twenty minutes engaged in armed conflict with Blogger's beta features just to crack wise about Jed the Fish, who certainly doesn't deserve nearly that amount of effort.