Scott Hutchison, Live in Maboneng, Johannesburg, 2017.
Welcome to the fifth weekly edition of The Songbook. There are 25 new subscribers this week. Join the 88 subscribers of this newsletter by signing up below:
The Songbook is a personal compilation where I share my writing, as well as content that is significant to me in some way. Similar to how music punctuates our days, I’ll use songs I love as writing prompts (and will include a link to each song). You can read the previous edition here.
Only The Wild Ones
One day, I’m going to have to explain to Thomas that CDs were these shiny discs that held just one album’s worth, or up to 74 minutes, of your favourite band’s music, and they were expensive — your friends would have to club together to buy you just one for your birthday. We handled them with such care, and cradled them in padded wallets we placed under the seats of our cars, as there was no ‘cloud’ to retrieve a backup copy from.
One of the my favourite bands from ‘00s was Dispatch. Their live album, Gut The Van, was compiled from several of their best live concerts over the years, each CD named after their tour vans, Wimpy and Peg. With my best mates from school, we tested this compact disc technology to its limits, as well the legal doctrine of fair use with the copies we made, wearing the double album out on weekend trips up the coast from Cape Town.
Last weekend, I had these mates around for a drink, and introduced them to our boy. In the years I lived in Jo’burg, they were dotted further afield living on yachts, farms and even Australia, but the magnetism of Cape Town seems to have worked its magic, and for the time being, at least, the okes are home.
The song that evokes the jokes and old stories for me, is not from Gut The Van, but rather a lovely tune they released sixteen years later, Only The Wild Ones. “Only the wild ones, give you something and never want it back”, feels like a line about the friendships that endure, and pick up where you left them with very little baggage. And that’s another thing I feel so grateful for.
Only the wild ones, give you something and never want it back
Oh the riot and the rush of the warm night air
Only the wild ones, are the ones you can never catch
Stars are up now no place to go... but everywhere
The Whole of the Moon
A few years ago, I had a few drinks with my favourite artist, Scott Hutchison from Frightened Rabbit. Shortly after introducing him to the quintessential South African cocktail, a brandy and coke, I said to him: “I saw you at Glastonbury on the John Peel Stage in 2013 and you said something awesome. You said, ‘I can’t promise you quality, but I can promise you heart and soul’.”
He got a twinkle in his eye, put an arm around my shoulder and said: “That’s the only thing I can ever promise.”
The Whole of the Moon by The Waterboys was released in October 1985, the month I was born. It was a favourite song of my folks, and, like the writer of the song, I love to marvel at the people and things that help me see The Whole of the Moon. That’s my hope for this newsletter, along with some heart and soul, of course.
My favourite version of the song is a cover performed by Frightened Rabbit. It was a BBC studio broadcast from Edinburgh on Hogmanay (Scottish New Year’s Eve.) I’ve watched the YouTube video hundreds of times and feel like Scott captures something mystical with that performance.
The original is, of course, world class too. Unfortunately, it doesn’t give me the latitude to talk about drinking brandy and coke with Scott Hutchison.
Rest in peace, Scott.
You came like a comet
Blazing your trail
Too high
Too far
Too soon
You saw the whole of the moon
Thanks for reading the fifth edition of The Songbook. If you enjoyed it, please feel free to like, comment, or share. You can also respond directly to this email. I’d love to hear from you.
Nic