Monday, October 15, 2012


You can't write a novel from a briefcase
You can write a poem from a trench
You can dream a dream from A to B
But you can't catch a bus from a bench

You don't back a horse called Striding Snail
You don't name your boat Titanic II
So why when I see your happy smiling face
Do I always end up singing Little Blue?

Little Blue, how do you do?
Your smile looks like heaven
But your eyes hold a storm about to brew
How can a flower so pretty
Be so laden down with dew?
Little Blue

You can't build a brewery on a cemetery
You can build a pub on a church
And people fall quicker than buildings do
You have to decide what comes first

You don't call a plane the Flying Roman
'Cause the Romans always walked and never flew
So why when I see your happy smiling face
Do I always end up singing Little Blue? 


What is it that is so deeply affecting about The Beautiful South?  My friend Rob Ayling first introduced me to their records many years ago, describing them as sweet/sour, which is pretty accurate. 

So also would be pull/push and attract/repel.  I sometimes think The Prettiest Eyes (Link) is the most beautiful song and record I've ever heard, but it's unexpectedly harrowing and makes safe driving difficult.  Little Blue is the second track on the great Blue Is The Colour lp, following the astonishing lead-off,  Don't Marry Her (Link).  People love The Beautiful South in the same way, with the same quiet intensity, that they love The Kinks, but they don’t always make the connection.  Both bands are utterly sui generis, a profound and insular pleasure for the naturally circumspect.

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