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Special guest Roi Colbert, humourist, writer and critic.
Ladies and Gentlemen, are there any of you here, or is it just the usual line-up of hooligans and louts here in the Dayglo? Yes, I believe I see one at the back, a small but impressive gentleman from Dunedin, making his way to the stage, a familiar figure ... wait while I put on my glasses ... yes, I'm right, it's the man who gives a good name to Dunedin ... columnist for the Otago Daily Times, satirist, commentator, and documentarian of his own hapless delightful life.
A very old and treasured friend of Two Paddocks, Roi, while not the world's wildest dancer, knows more about, and cares more about music than anyone else we know he has been a master of music criticism since the last King died pretty much. He also ran the best second hand record store in NZ for many years, just up from the Octagon.
Technically blind as a bat, he still plays golf twice a week at Balmacewen terrifying FORE! Here he is with his all-vinyl selection, magooing his way to the tables he makes us laugh, and he's here to ROCK ... give it up people for our dear old friend ... ROI COLBERT!
Unfortunately, or fortunately, it's a line call, heard this for the first time on acid, and immediately grokked its every word. Then Van told Ritchie York Madame George was about a cheese sandwich and I had to start all over again. I generally fling this out as the best album ever made, it's just got everything I want in a record.
A lovely ringing song but I especially like it for the utterly quintessential Kiwi scenario of pretty girl answering ad for vacancy at all-male flat, and protagonist showing her through the flat so overcome he forgets how to breathe. How many times have us men forgotten how to breathe in the presence of a fine woman? I know I have.
The best, greatest, most whang-your-head-on-a-wooden-toilet-seat guitar break in all of rock. Wasn't it Oscar Wilde who said, if you're going to play an electric guitar, make it SOUND like an electric guitar? Or was that Reg Presley of The Troggs?
Maybe my favourite single of all time. It seemed monumental when it came out, a thousand jangling guitars, ten voices in gorgeous harmony, escapist words to stun a boy in short pants at high school wanting to get out of the classroom NOW. All that in 2min 33sec.
There's an argument for saying the ten best of anything anywhere is by Dusty Springfield, but just look at this one, the B side of I Close My Eyes And Count To TenIt's a tiny wee song and everything about it is beautiful and perfect. You could base a movie on this, and if you played it at the end, tears would flow down theatre aisles like the waters of the mighty Manuherikea.
Brian Wilson is really the only true genius in rock music, I mean, the only one would pass every test if the tests were written down. A song of high irony though how many have thought of having it played at their funeral for their stranded partner only to find the first line is
The pinnacle of all harmony country that had gone before (Louvin Brothers/Everly Brothers) and all the alt.rock that would come after. A classic example of making a wobbly singer sound magnificent simply by attaching him to a woman who can really sing.
Trivia question to win money in a pub how many lines rhyme in this song? You'll be thinking, oh, those words are exquisite, it must be a lot. The answer is none. Breath-taking.
I dunno, this is number one for everyone, but it just blew everything else beside it to pieces when it came out. Unbelievable snarling tobacco and Beaujolais vocal. It was a single and it just went forever. I walked all over Dunedin driven by the sound of this in my head.
A folk song turned into black thunder by these two Fender-playing weirdos. A vocal that had never been done before and hasn't been done since, a lyric of baffling stupidity, and a guitar sound to launch ten million ships. The best one-hit-wonder song of all time.
Choice choice from the Master. Give the man a huge vote of thanks also for what he's done for NZ music over the years.
Roi is married to one of The Great Women -- Christine ... and look at her cutting the rug!
Play them again, oh southern seer of impeccable taste, and many more years of all of it my friend!
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