Good As Gold

“People who mind don’t matter
People who matter don’t mind at all
Oh oh, Oh oh
So do what you want
Be who you wanna be
Go where you want to
Who you wanna see
Just be yourself
You’re good as gold”

Good as Gold – Katie Thompson

It’s time to get back to home grown roots (and let’s be honest, the Kiwi music dedicated last blog of the month is always my favourite), and what better way then to give a nod to with fresh faced singer Katie Thompson. I should have blogged about this song ages ago, as Katie was kind enough to send me a free copy of her track just for following her on Twitter – cheers Katie! But who wouldn’t follow a sweet Kiwi chick who embraces the Kiwi spirit in one song and gives our music industry some country flair?

Our New Zealand chicks seem to love creating music about the ways in which New Zealand cultures works. Good as Gold, much like Jamie McDell’s song You’ll Never Take That Away on which I blogged about in May, is really about not caring what people think and doing your own thing – who cares if you’re having a glass of wine in the middle of the day as long as you are surrounded by those who mean a lot to you. And, really, who can argue with a song in which the chorus reminds us of that Dr Seuss quote we were always been told as kids?

I wonder if this need to incorporate these lyrics of wisdom with a nice, upbeat melody is because people need to be reminded to be themselves. Over the past few months I feel I have repeated the be yourself / do what you want / no one else should matter / people don’t need to care about what you think message a numerous amount of times, because it is so predominant in songs. Do we live in a society where we need to be constantly reminded to be themselves? Well, yes, because if you can’t think of a time you’ve hesitated about doing something because of what your peer thought, you’d be lying to yourself. So is it up to our musicians to remind us of this?

Honestly, I don’t have an answer. I like songs that remind us to be ourselves, because I think it is an important message. But if you want to take a step back and just enjoy a sweet, happy song by one of our lovely Kiwi lasses, then do it. After all, do what you want and be who you wanna be. 

Radio Ga Ga

“So don't become some background noise
A backdrop for the girls and boys
Who just don't know or just don't care
And just complain when you're not there
You had your time, you had the power
You've yet to have your finest hour
Radio - radio

All we hear is radio ga ga
Radio goo goo
Radio ga ga
All we hear is radio ga ga
Radio blah blah
Radio what's new?
Radio, someone still loves you”

Radio Ga Ga – Queen

I love the radio. In saying this, it would be a bit odd for me not to like radio as I have spent the past four months, and will spent the next four months, studying the industry inside and out with hopes of getting a full time job at the end of the year. So, my wonderful blog readers, brace yourselves for a blog which is so pro radio it will make you want to switch on a station and sigh with relief (hopefully).

Queen’s song Radio Ga Ga is said to be a commentary on television coming into everyday lives by the 1980’s (when the song was released) and radio taking a backseat: a very, very far back backseat. As people’s attention turned to a box with pretty flashing colours, the dial which had originally been so precious seemed to be spending more time in the off position. Instead of being captivated by The War of the Worlds and The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, it was the sitcoms such as I Dream of Jeannie and Get Smart which society was paying more attention to. And now, in the 21^st Century, there is more chatter of the internet becoming predominant over the radio and the FM dial is in danger of becoming nothing more than static.  

But that’s all it has ever been – chatter (and a rather good song from Queen). From the television to the internet, radio has not only survived the threats of these new media industries, but have adapted with it and made sure radio does not shrink. People can’t call in to complain on TV One, but Newstalk ZB makes sure you have your say with their talkback segments. As for internet – you missed a bit of a radio show? Simply check out the online podcast. And radio, our dear friend radio, is still the number one secondary activity, as it keeps you company while you go about your everyday life. See, radio? We still love you.

On a different note, isn’t it a tad ironic when radio stations play this song? 

Tribute

“And we played the first thing that came to our heads,
Just so happened to be,
The Best Song in the World, it was The Best Song in the World.

Look into my eyes and it's easy to see
One and one make two, two and one make three,
It was destiny.
Once every hundred-thousand years or so,
When the sun doth shine and the moon doth glow
And the grass doth grow...”

Tribute – Tenacious D

You know when you go and see a band live and you wait with eager anticipation for that one song which you love and you know the crowd will go crazy for? Tribute is one of those songs. I saw the D duo play Tribute when they opened for Foo Fighters, and they kicked into the track about halfway through their set. As predicted, the crowd went nuts and it was the most insane mosh I have ever been in. Amazing.

To be fair, Tribute actually doesn’t make a lot of sense. I mean, you could try decipher the story of meeting a demon on the road with your brother and just happening to sing the greatest song ever written ... but this isn’t it, this is just a tribute. Then again, when does anything by Tenacious D ever make sense? One Note Song, anyone? Tenacious D have made a living, and gathered a following, through not making a lot of sense but sounding particularly awesome.

Allow me to take a moment of seriousness amongst the madness which is Tenacious D. As usual with my thoughts which translate into these blogs, I’m going to switch up the meaning of Tribute. When they say “this is not the greatest song in the world, no, this is just a tribute”, it got me thinking. As I detailed in last week’s blog, I find it impossible to pick just one song to be my favourite, and I’m not going to start trying now. So ... this is a tribute to all the songs out there which we individually find the greatest in the world.

Furthermore, this particular blog is a tribute to those who have said something nice to me today. It’s a tribute to those who have read my blog over the past six months and supported me. It’s also a tribute to all the blogs which will surely come. Take it how you will - it's a tribute. 

Wonderwall

“Because maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall”

Wonderwall – Oasis

Wonderwall is song two from the list of my top six songs. It is, quite simply, a fantastic song. The lead singer of Oasis, Liam Gallagher sounds amazing, the instrumental compliments the song and it walks the fine line between being sombre, and being whiny and suicidal perfectly. But these reasons are not the reason Wonderwall is one of my favourite songs.

Three years ago I was lucky enough to visit South Korea with around 120 other people who I had never met before. We had a week together in a foreign country with little in common. Throughout the week we broke down cultural barriers and I formed some fantastic friendships. We would bicker about the differences between our countries – the stand on being whether you call it Twink, Tip-Ex or White Out – but these were so quickly quashed by the fact that the air in Korea bought together a bunch of people who would probably not glance twice at each other had they never met.

On one of our last days in South Korea my bus, bus number one, had a bit of a sing along. The Brits sung The Beatles, the Aussies sung Waltzing Matilda and us Kiwi’s sung Baa Baa Black Sheep. And then, just when we thought the singing would be over, the Brits came back with a classic. I remember one of them grabbing the microphone and starting with the opening lyrics to Wonderwall. A few lines in “I don’t believe anybody feels the way I do about you now” kicked in, the whole bus, to my amazement, was singing along to this one song.

What struck me that day was the power of a single song. It could bring people together, people who had only known each other for a few days, and make them act like they had so much in common. It was special, and to this day, three years after it happened, I have never felt more connected with anybody through a song.

Wonderwall, like many, many great songs, is universally known. While we live in a society where most things can reach a global scale via the internet – indeed, this blog has readers as far away as American and England – it still amazes me that people can have be connected through something as simple as a song.