One Hit Wonders – Pop Muzik : M

We all have guilty pleasure in music; those songs that were the one hit wonders of the 70’s and the 80’s.  So after having compiled my top ten list, I thought it would be fun to start a new series dedicated to the pop songs that though the singer might have faded to obscurity, the song lives on.

First up, who could forget…. Pop Muzik by M.

Pop Muzik was one of the first new wave singles to top the charts. The singles popularity was bolstered by this catchy video that featured Scott as a DJ singing from behind turntables, and flanked by two female models providing the additional vocals… Or do they? One of the sight gags in the video depicted Brigit Novik dressed in blue who actually recorded the backup vocals which were mimed by the models. The song went on to have global success and had “everybody talkin’ ’bout Pop Muzik”. The original clip from1979. Boogie in a suitcase. Pop, pop, pop muzik.

Get up, get down

Radio, video, boogie with a suitcase
Your livin’ in a disco, forget about the rat race
Let’s do the milkshake, sellin’ like a hotcake
Try some, buy some fee-fi-fo-fum

Talk about pop musik
Talk about pop musik

Shoobie, doobie, do wop
I wanna dedicate this
Pop, pop, shoo wop
Everybody made it

Shoobie, doobie do wop
Infiltrate it
Pop, pop, shoo wop
Activate it

New York, London, Paris, Munich
Everybody talk about pop musik
Talk about pop musik
Talk about pop musik
Pop, pop, pop, pop musik

Singing in the subway
Shuffle with a shoe shine
Fix me a Molotov
I’m on the headline

Wanna be a gun slinger
Don’t be a rock singer
Eenie, meenie, mynie, moe
Tell me, where you wanna go

Talk about pop musik
Talk about pop musik

Shoobie doobie do wop
Lyin’ in the tree [unverified]
Pop, pop, shoo wop
Eenee, meenie
Shoobie, doobie, do wop

Pop, pop, shoo wop
You know what I mean
Hit it
Now you know what to say

Talk about pop musik
Pop pop pop pop musik

All around the world wherever you are
Dance in the street, anything you like
Do it in your car in the middle of the night
La, la, la

Dance in the super mart
Dig it in the fast lane
Listen to the countdown
They’re playin’ our song again

I can’t get jumping jack
I wanna hold, get back
Moonlight muzak
Knick, knack, patty whack

Talk about pop musik
Talk about pop musik

Shoobie, doobie, do wop
It’s all around you
Pop, pop, shoo wop
Gonna surround you

Shoobie, doobie, do wop
It’s all around
Pop, pop, shoo wop

Hit it
New York, London, Paris, Munich
Everybody talk about pop musik

Talk about pop musik
Talk about pop musik
Pop, pop, pop, pop musik

Now, listen
Talk about pop, pop, pop, pop musik

 

My Top Ten Song List – Number 1.

And finally I have come to post what is the number one song in my Top ten list.  Thank you to everyone that took the time to visit this blog series of songs.  For me it was like an emotional journey to discover for myself, what songs mean so much to me.  I found that it is those that had the most emotional impact, or helped me to remember events in my life.  Like my life’s anthems.  So it is fitting really, the song I have chosen for number one.

Simon and Garfunkel – Bridge over troubled water.

 

“Bridge Over Troubled Water”

When you’re weary, feeling small,
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all;
I’m on your side. When times get rough
And friends just can’t be found,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.

When you’re down and out,
When you’re on the street,
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you.
I’ll take your part.
When darkness comes
And pain is all around,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.

Sail on silvergirl,
Sail on by.
Your time has come to shine.
All your dreams are on their way.
See how they shine.
If you need a friend
I’m sailing right behind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.

Crowded House – Don’t dream it’s over. (Extended version)

A bit of an Australian classic.  This is the extended version of their hit, “Don’t Dream it’s over”.  At the time a new and exciting way to showcase their talent through the visual medium of the music video.  Picked up by MTV, they went on to win a Grammy, and were adored by the Australian public.  The lyrics spoke a great deal of the generation that was the 80’s.

“Don’t Dream It’s Over”

There is freedom within
there is freedom without
Try to catch a deluge in a paper cup
There’s a battle ahead
many battles are lost
But you’ll never see the end of the road
While you’re traveling with me

[CHORUS]
Hey now, hey now
Don’t dream it’s over
Hey now, hey now
When the world comes in
They come, they come
To build a wall between us
We know they won’t win

Now I’m towing my car
there’s a hole in the roof
my possessions are causing me suspicion but there’s no proof
in the paper today
tales of war and of waste
but you turn right over to the T.V. page

[CHORUS]
Hey now, hey now
Don’t dream it’s over
Hey now, hey now
When the world comes in
They come, they come
To build a wall between us
We know they won’t win

Now I’m walking again
to the beat of a drum
And I’m counting the steps to the door of your heart
Only shadows ahead
barely clearing the roof
Get to know the feeling of liberation and relief

Hey now, Hey now
Don’t dream it’s over
Hey now, Hey now
When the world comes in
They come, they come
To build a wall between us
You know they won’t win

Don’t let them win
Hey now, Hey now

Hey now, Hey now

Hey now, Hey now
Don’t let them win

They come, They come
Don’t let them win

Hey now, Hey now (yeah)

Hey now, Hey now

 

Where is the Humanity?

The visions on the screen haunt my waking hours

People suffering in so many ways, so many places

It’s hard to fathom it all

My heart cries and my voice shouts at the screen

The world is mad, I tell myself

The compassion and humanity I yearn to see, replaced by desensitization

What ever happened to the Great Australian nation?

Men in suits with agendas that have nothing to do with the chaos

Twisting their words, spun into grand ideals that bare no fruit

When did the public voice go unheard?

Even the average Joe knows dropping bombs won’t solve a thing

It’s a war that no one can win

 

 

 

I want to believe

I want to believe

In the words they say

The promises they make

The plans they lay

 

But everyday

You get a different view

The people are now

So very confused

 

We want leadership

Someone to admire

Someone to trust

But the dreams

of the people

are turning into dust

 

More talk of war

Less on equality

Less on love

All I see now

Is the death

Of the white peace dove

Cricket – A poem.

 

Cricket…such a fickle game

Our team the Aussies, so very lame

The batting order was bloody tame

We lost the ashes….*sigh*…again

All out for sixty….such a shame

Will Aussie Cricket ever be the same?

Cricket Australia needs a new name

Papers wish the team WAGS never came

All I know is the British are not to blame

-cheers up-

Is the footy still on?

 

 

 

Sleeping at Last – Saturn.

More than music, more than poetry.  Beauty is the word I would use.  This is Saturn by Sleeping at Last.  You’re welcome.

“Saturn”

You taught me the courage of stars before you left.
How light carries on endlessly, even after death.
With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite.
How rare and beautiful it is to even exist.

I couldn’t help but ask
For you to say it all again.
I tried to write it down
But I could never find a pen.
I’d give anything to hear
You say it one more time,
That the universe was made
Just to be seen by my eyes.

I couldn’t help but ask
For you to say it all again.
I tried to write it down
But I could never find a pen.
I’d give anything to hear
You say it one more time,
That the universe was made
Just to be seen by my eyes.

With shortness of breath, I’ll explain the infinite
How rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist.

‘Don’t sell Australia out’ – A Poem by Chris Long.

‘Don’t sell Australia out’

 

When the shearing sheds are silent and the stock camps fallen quiet
When the gidgee coals no longer glow across the outback night

And the bush is forced to hang a sign, ‘gone broke and won’t be back’
And spirits fear to find a way beyond the beaten track

When harvesters stand derelict upon the windswept plains
And brave hearts pin their hopes no more on chance of loving rains

When a hundred outback settlements are ghost towns overnight
When we’ve lost the drive and heart we had to once more see us right

When ‘Pioneer’ means a stereo and ‘Digger’ some backhoe
And the ‘Outback’ is behind the house, there’s nowhere else to go

And ‘ANZAC’ is a biscuit brand and probably foreign owned
And education really means brainwashed and neatly cloned

When you have to bake a loaf of bread to make a decent crust
And our heritage once enshrined in gold is crumbling to dust

And old folk pay their camping fees on land for which they fought
And fishing is a great escape; this is until you’re caught

When you see our kids with Yankee caps and resentment in their eyes
And soaring crime and hopeless hearts are no longer a surprise

When the name of RM Williams is a yuppie clothing brand
Not a product of our heritage that grew off the land

When offering a hand makes people think you’ll amputate
And two dogs meeting in the street is what you call a ‘Mate’

When ‘Political Correctness’ has replaced all common sense,
When you’re forced to see it their way, there’s no sitting on the fence

Yes, one day you might find yourself an outcast in this land
Perhaps your heart will tell you then, ‘I should have made a stand’

Just go and ask the farmers that should remove all doubt
Then join the swelling ranks who say, ‘don’t sell Australia out’

The Man From Snowy River – Banjo’s Poem

 

One of Australia’s best loved poems.  Written by  Andrew Barton “Banjo” Patterson in 1890, and published in The Bulletin; an Australian News Magazine.  This clip is from the movie by the same name, but brings out the beauty in Banjo’s words.

 

The Man from Snowy River.

 

There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around
That the colt from old Regret had got away,
And had joined the wild bush horses – he was worth a thousand pound,
So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,
And the stockhorse snuffs the battle with delight.

There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,
The old man with his hair as white as snow
But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up –
He would go wherever horse and man could go.
And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,
No better horseman ever held the reins;
For never horse could throw him while the saddle girths would stand,
He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.

And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast,
He was something like a racehorse undersized,
With a touch of Timor pony – three parts thoroughbred at least –
And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.
He was hard and tough and wiry – just the sort that won’t say die –
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.

But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,
And the old man said, “That horse will never do
For a long a tiring gallop – lad, you’d better stop away,
Those hills are far too rough for such as you.”
So he waited sad and wistful – only Clancy stood his friend –
“I think we ought to let him come,” he said;
“I warrant he’ll be with us when he’s wanted at the end,
For both his horse and he are mountain bred.

“He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko’s side,
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,
Where a horse’s hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,
The man that holds his own is good enough.
And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,
Where the river runs those giant hills between;
I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,
But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen.”

So he went – they found the horses by the big mimosa clump –
They raced away towards the mountain’s brow,
And the old man gave his orders, “Boys, go at them from the jump,
No use to try for fancy riding now.
And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.
Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,
For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,
If once they gain the shelter of those hills.”

So Clancy rode to wheel them – he was racing on the wing
Where the best and boldest riders take their place,
And he raced his stockhorse past them, and he made the ranges ring
With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face.
Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash,
But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,
And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash,
And off into the mountain scrub they flew.

Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black
Resounded to the thunder of their tread,
And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back
From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.
And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way,
Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;
And the old man muttered fiercely, “We may bid the mob good day,
No man can hold them down the other side.”

When they reached the mountain’s summit, even Clancy took a pull,
It well might make the boldest hold their breath,
The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.
But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,
And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,
And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.

He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,
He cleared the fallen timber in his stride,
And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat –
It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.
Through the stringybarks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,
Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;
And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound,
At the bottom of that terrible descent.

He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill,
And the watchers on the mountain standing mute,
Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still,
As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.
Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met
In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals
On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,
With the man from Snowy River at their heels.

And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam.
He followed like a bloodhound on their track,
Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home,
And alone and unassisted brought them back.
But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,
He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;
But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,
For never yet was mountain horse a cur.

And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze
At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,
And where around The Overflow the reed beds sweep and sway
To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
The man from Snowy River is a household word today,
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride…