Friday, March 11, 2005

All Those Little Things

All Those Little Things

I was intending to leave posting about Fox's 'Leaving Right Now' until a moment when I either i) was searching round for something to blog about* or ii)hadn't already inflicted you with a song blog recently. Yesterday, however, Nik blogged about the song and given that I love any excuse for intertextuality, I decided that I'd have to blog about it too. So if you want to complain, send them addressed to Nik, it's her fault that I'm writing this now. Of course you could simply view the situation as simply being like the ripping off of a plaster - quick and painless - since I was going to write it anyway. Or something like that.

'Leaving Right Now' got its debut at The Bedford last week. Which was momentous largely because it's the first, or at least one of the few, song[s] that Fox has written by himself. Usually he's a self-confessed co-writing freak. Well, he didn't confess to the freak bit. I added that**. But you get the picture. So it was a bit of a miny occasion. And I was genuinely impressed. Indeed impressed enough to comment to Fox afterwards that I "really liked the one you wrote on your own". Yes, I'm aware that it clearly didn't make enough of an impression on my for my to remember the title, but you try remembering the title when you're i)in the Bedford ii)attempting to bop in your seat iii)starting to be terrorised by the smell of leek pervading from the seat next to you****. Anyway, to return to the song rather than the leeks, I was immediately captivated by the lines:
But it won't have to be forever
It doesn't need to be right now
Now maybe this speaks volumes about my own attitude, but I find those lines utterly beautiful. Because they're about the very nature of hope. They embrace a notion which may well prove to be transitory. But it doesn't matter. The hope is enough. The possibilty, rather than certainty. And I can definitely relate to that notion. Which is why the "never" in the song is so loaded. It stands, rather starkly, as the destruction of belief.

Having listened to the song consequently there's another section that makes me smile every time I listen to it:
I wonder if he ever puts you down
In a funny way like I did
It seemed to work somehow
And it makes me smile because, and this is my greatest compliment, it's true. It's true, as Nik noted in general of the song, to Fox but it's also true to me. It takes something idiosyncratic, something seemingly small, but because it's true it radiates. And I smile.

Now to the second verse. And I can see the irony already here given the fact that at one particularly unguarded moment I happened to let slip to Fox that if I think Griffin has a flaw in his songwriting it's with his second verses. And Fox, ever the gentleman, didn't miss an opportunity to bring up my comment at the Bedford. Even though I made it several months ago, right at the end of a very long conversation. But Fox remembered. And I blushed rather substantially. But to the second verse. I don't think I'm quite as down on it as Nik is, I find the 'you're kind of like my favourite film' line a bit odd but nothing that causes me to run screaming for the hills. What does, however, is the line 'Thought the grass was always greener'. Can you hear that noise? That's me dying inside. And there's another irony here. After my mouth had run away with me with the Griffin second verse syndrome comment and I almost got down on my hands and knees in the Cock and Camel***** to beg Fox not to repeat it, Fox responded with 'I've said much worse than that to him - could he shove another cliche in there?'. Clearly should Griffin ever be stuck for one, Fox knows how to shove one in with the best of them******. But the second verse doesn't end in disaster, because Fox pulls it back:
Could say I've changed or maybe lost
Everything good I had and paid the cost
Simple yet effective, and suddenly I'm not running for the hills anymore. Because Fox isn't singing cliche here, he's singing truth. And I love the song again.

As a footnote to this********, I should comment that I'm not entirely sure about the samba beat. I love the music. Green Grass aside I love the lyrics. And I think that together they're very nice. It's just, and this is more a feeling than as a product of anything more substantial given that my musical expertise in my post-school orchestra days is based around playing Griffin melodies on the recorder*********, it strikes me that the lyrics need more. They're huge. They need supporting. Or at the least they need something that works with them. Given that I'm probably not going to be called upon any day soon to administer recorder aid to Fox's songs, I'll stick to the word bit.

*It's a mark of how obsessed I am with this blog that I much more often than is probably healthy think 'oh I could write about this' or 'I could write about that'. I'll step up the medication.

**C'mon co-writing is freakish***. How on earth do you stop yourself jabbing your co-writer in the eye with a pencil when they don't like your woo-woos on the end of a line?

***Obviously when I co-write my musical this is not freakish. This is sensible.

****And let me tell you, leeks pong.

*****Possibly I shouldn't blog about getting down on my knees in front of Fox in a bar with such a name.

******That sentence isn't going to help the rumours.*******

*******Of course there aren't any rumours. And indeed if there are, I probably started them with my parade of dubious witticisms on the subject.

********Ok, I'm aware that there's about a million footnotes to this entry. Consider this one in the main body.Well not this one exactly, but you know what I mean.

*********Which is why it's a sensible move to co-write the musical.

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