Favourite Songs of all time

Discussion Open Forum
1

I am just slightly curious as to what people’s fave songs are. It’s a toss up for me between Heart of Saturday Night (Tom Waits) and Man of the World (Fleetwood Mac). But the winner by a nose is Man of the World. Anyone else have a clear favourite ?

Man Of The World

Written by Peter Green.

Shall I tell you about my life
They say I’m a man of the world
I’ve flown across every tide
And I’ve seen lots of pretty girls

I guess I’ve got everything I need
I would’t ask for more
And there’s no one I’d rather be
But I just wish that I’d never been born

break:

 And I need a good woman
 to make me feel like a good man should
 I don't say I'm a good man
 Oh, but I would be if I could

I could tell you about my life
And keep you amused I’m sure
About all the times I’ve cried
And how I don’t want to be sad anymore
And how I wish I was in love

2

I couldn’t pick a favorite. But I’m somewhat partial to a few Grateful Dead songs. I like Black Throated Wind… words by John Perry Barlow:

Bringing me down,
I’m running aground
Blind in the light of the interstate cars.
Passing me by,
The busses and semis,
Plunging like stones from a slingshot on Mars.

But I’m here by the road,
Bound to the load
That I picked up in ten thousand cafes and bars.
Alone with the rush of the drivers who won’t pick me up,
The highway, the moon, the clouds, and the stars.

The black-throated wind keeps on pouring in
With its words of a life where nothing is new.
Ah, Mother American Night, I’m lost from the light.
Ohhh, I’m drowning in you.

I left St. Louis, the City of Blues,
In the midst of a storm I’d rather forget.
I tried to pretend it came to an end
Cause you weren’t the woman I thought I once met.

But I can’t deny that times have gone by
When I never had doubts or thoughts of regret
And I was a man when all this began
Who wouldn’t think twice about being there yet.

The black-throated wind keeps on pouring in.
And it speaks of a life that passes like dew.
It’s forced me to see that you’ve done better by me,
Better by me than I’ve done by you.

What’s to be found, racing around,
You carry your pain wherever you go.
Full of the blues and trying to lose
You ain’t gonna learn what you don’t want to know.

So I give you my eyes, and all of their lies
Please help them to learn as well as to see
Capture a glance and make it a dance
Of looking at you looking at me.

The black-throated wind keeps on pouring in
With its words of a lie that could almost be true.
Ah, Mother American Night, here comes the light.
I’m turning around, that’s what I’m gonna do

Goin back home that’s what I’m gonna do
Turnin’ around,
That’s what I’m gonna do

'Cause you’ve done better by me
Than I’ve done by you. . .

3

Hunters and Collectors - Throw your arms around me.

A long way back seems to be a traffic jam for second place. Some include :

Hunters and Collectors - Holy Grail
Paul Kelly - Leaps and Bounds
Paul Kelly - How to make gravy
Cold Chisel - Flame Trees
Cold Chisel - Khe Sanh
John Williamson - Mallee Boy
Kenny Rogers - The Gambler

Mallee boy is well worth a listen, so sneak over to Kazaa for a peep :

Well I’ve ripped and dug out burrows on a sandy bulloak hill,
Eradicating rabbits doesn’t take a lot of skill
But a boy born in the Mallee doesn’t find 'em hard to kill
No self-respecting farmer lets a rodent eat his wheat
He’ll shoot 'em and he’ll skin 'em and he’ll dress 'em up to eat
But since the spread of mixo He’s almost got 'em beat
And I don’t mind at all if you call me a Mallee boy

Where little town dogs howl at the morning train,
Where a cocky makes a living on twelve inches of rain
Where his woman provides and is rare to complain
And I still love the smell of that sandy soil,
Some say it’s dusty, some say it’s gold
Cause it grows the sweetest fat lambs the markets ever sold
And I don’t mind at all if you call me a Mallee Boy,
No I don’t mind at all if you call me a Mallee Boy.

Where you can lose an ear on duck opening day,
Where slickers bring their shotguns from miles away,
And shoot the life out of shags and swans that fly their way.
Where a bloke grows as stocky as a Mallee bull,
Where they come from miles around to see the tractor pull,
When the paddocks are clean and seed silos are full,
And I don’t mind at all if you call me a Mallee Boy.

Well I’ve ripped and dug out burrows on a sandy bulloak hill,
Eradicating rabbits doesn’t take a lot of skill,
And a boy born in the Mallee doesn’t find 'em hard to kill.
But they’ll never be as rare as a Quandong tree
My grandma made some jam for my brothers and me
They’re like the Mallee Fowl you hardly ever see
But I don’t mind at all if you call me a Mallee Boy.

No I don’t mind at all if you call me a Mallee Boy.
No I don’t mind at all if you call me a Mallee Boy.

4

I also like the Dead’s Looks Like Rain, also written by John Perry Barlow:

I woke today…
And felt your side of bed
The covers were still warm where you’d been layin’.
You were gone…
My heart was filled with dread.
You might not be sleepin’ here again

[Chorus:]
It’s alright, 'cause I love you.
And that’s not gonna change.
Run me round, make me hurt again and again.
But I’ll still sing you love songs
Written in the letters of your name.
And brave the storm to come,
For it surely looks like rain.

Did you ever waken to the sound
Of street cats makin’ love
And guess from their cries
You were listenin’ to a fight?
Well, you know…
Hate’s just the last thing they’re thinkin’ of.
They’re only trying to make it through the night.

[Chorus:]

I only want to hold you.
I don’t want to tie you down.
Or fence you in the lines
I might have drawn.
It’s just that I’ve gotten used to
Havin’ you around.
My landscape would be empty
If you were gone.

[Rain, rain, go away…]

5

Never, Tigerman. Who’d a thunk you were a deadhead? :wink:

I’m with the Irish bollix, though – early Peter Green and virtually anything by Tom Waits up until black Riders and Bone Machine, which I never really got into. His most recent CD takes us right back to what he does best though – the Raindogs/Swordfishtrombones-type stuff.

But hell, I have more than 700 CDs, only a very, very few of which are lemons, so I couldn’t really pick a favourite. Right now, two of the ones I’m digging are An Evening with Otis Redding and a Small Faces double CD, but it goes in cycles – I might go home tonight, pull out the horn and blast along with some 'Trane – Naima, maybe, or Central Park West.

Or T-Bone Walker, or The Fabulous Thunderbirds, or… or… or… shit, maybe even a bit of Jerry and the boys.

6

Its true, I tell you!:smiley:

I like Peter Green too… bluesy. And I do like lots of stuff other than the Dead… its just that I like the Dead best (overall).

But another Dead tune penned by John Perry Barlow that I like is Throwing Stones:

Picture a bright blue ball, just spinning, spinnin free,
Dizzy with eternity.
Paint it with a skin of sky,
Brush in some clouds and sea,
Call it home for you and me.
A peaceful place or so it looks from space,
A closer look reveals the human race.
Full of hope, full of grace
Is the human face,
But afraid we may lay our home to waste.

There’s a fear down here we can’t forget.
Hasn’t got a name just yet.
Always awake, always around,
Singing ashes, ashes, all fall down.
Ashes, ashes, all fall down.

Now watch as the ball revolves
And the nighttime falls.
Again the hunt begins,
Again the bloodwind calls.
By and by, the morning sun will rise,
But the darkness never goes
From some men’s eyes.
It strolls the sidewalks and it rolls the streets,
Staking turf, dividing up meat.
Nightmare spook, piece of heat,
It’s you and me.
You and me.

Click flash blade in ghetto night,
Rudies looking for a fight.
Rat cat alley, roll them bones.
Need that cash to feed that jones.
And the politicians throwin’ stones,
Singing ashes, ashes, all fall down.
Ashes, ashes, all fall down.

[Bridge:]
Commissars and pin-stripe bosses
Roll the dice.
Any way they fall,
Guess who gets to pay the price.
Money green or proletarian gray,
Selling guns 'stead of food today.

So the kids they dance
And shake their bones,
And the politicians throwin’ stones,
Singing ashes, ashes, all fall down.
Ashes, ashes, all fall down.

Heartless powers try to tell us
What to think.
If the spirit’s sleeping,
Then the flesh is ink
History’s page will thus be carved in stone.
And we are here, and we are on our own
On our own.
On our own.
On our own.

[Instrumental]

If the game is lost,
Then we’re all the same.
No one left to place or take the blame.
We can leave this place and empty stone
Or that shinin’ ball we used to call our home.

So the kids they dance
And shake their bones,
And the politicians throwin’ stones,
Singing ashes, ashes, all fall down.
Ashes, ashes, all fall down.

[Bridge two:] Shipping powders back and forth
Singing black goes south and white comes north.
In a whole world full of petty wars
Singing I got mine and you got yours.
And the current fashion sets the pace,
Lose your step, fall out of grace.
And the radical, he rant and rage,
Singing someone’s got to turn the page.
And the rich man in his summer home,
Singing just leave well enough alone.
But his pants are down, his cover’s blown…

And the politicians throwin’ stones,
So the kids they dance
And shake their bones,
And it’s all too clear we’re on our own.
Singing ashes, ashes, all fall down.
Ashes, ashes, all fall down.

Picture a bright blue ball,
Just spinnin’, spinnin, free.
Dizzy with the possibilities.
Ashes, ashes, all fall down.
Ashes, ashes, all fall down.
Ashes, ashes, all fall down.
Ashes, ashes, all fall down.
Ashes, ashes, all fall down.

7

Fairytale of New York - The Pogues

It was christmas eve babe
in the drunk tank
an old man said to me won`t see another one
but then they sang a song
the rare old mountain dew
I turned my face away and dreamed about you
Got on a lucky one
came in eighteen to one
I

8

You forgot to mention, Hexuan, that anyone who picks “Stairway to Heaven” gets stoned (with rocks).

9

That goes or anyone who picks “Freebird” too!

10

My Second Favorite. A little “rap” number…Anyone remember the performer?

Images
by Tyrone Green

Dark and lonely on a summer’s night.

Kill my landlord. Kill my landlord.

Watchdog barking. Do he bite?

Kill my landlord. Kill my landlord.

Slip in his window. Break his neck.

Then his house I start to wreck.

Got no reason. What the heck?

Kill my landlord. Kill my landlord.

C-I-L my land lord!

11

MT,

darn I was going to pick that great song… you know… the one they used to play at Jr. High school dances, as the last song of the night… oh sweet sweet memories… :wink:

fave song,

Depends on the day, the minute, the season…

Ashamed to admit where I bought the CD… but an all time classic has got to be Ray Charles and (Night Time Is) The Right Time

12

The aria “Nessun Dorma” from Puccini’s opera Turandot. :smiley:

www.operaheb.co.il/operas/arias/turandot01.html

13

Teenage Kicks - Undertones

14

Hexuan, how come you didn’t pick something by Van the Man? Several tracks from Astral Weeks, or the whole album, would be up there somewhere in my top 20. But the very best of all? There’s so much great stuff around, it’s just too hard to single one out. I’ll muse on it while I’m chugging up the hill on my scooter tonight.

15

Ahhh…but did you ever hear Van’s album with the Chieftains, “Celtic Heartbeat”? God, I need a drink!

Carrickfergus

I wished I had you in Carrickfergus,
Only for nights in Ballygrand,
I would swim over the deepest ocean,
The deepest ocean to be by your side.

But the sea is wide and I can’t swim over
And neither have I wings to fly.
I wish I could find me a handy boatman
To ferry me over to my love and die.

My childhood days bring back sad reflections
Of happy days so long ago.
My boyhood friends and my own relations.
Have all passed on like the melting snow.

So I’ll spend my days in endless roving,
Soft is the grass and my bed is free.
Oh to be home now in Carrickfergus,
On the long road down to the salty sea.

And in Kilkenny it is reported
On marble stone there as black as ink,
With gold and silver I did support her
But I’ll sing no more now till I get a drink.

I’m drunk today and I’m rarely sober,
A handsome rover from town to town.
Oh but I am sick now and my days are numbered
Come all ye young men and lay me down.

16

Geez, is this a thread full of middle aged men???
It’s really strange, I just stick around here to feel young.
My favorite song hmmmm…
Kiss this guy… by Jimmi Hendrix I mean … ahhh you know the name of the song. kissthisguy.com/

I love any song that you can mess up the words

17

I’ve got that record (CD). Its stellar, indeed. Even my mother-in-law likes it. The only other English language song she knows is “You Are My Sunshine”.

So maybe that, “You Are My Sunshine”, would be my mother-in-law’s fave English song.

Must be. We usually end up singing it after playing mahjong and after I’ve consumed enough beer for the entire table.

18

I’ve got to go with entire albums, sorted by activity.

David Gray’s EPs 1992-1994 (Working at the computer)
The Best of the Doors (Hiking alone)
Dave Matthews Band, Before These Crowded Streets (Starting the day)
Static-X, [u]Wisconsin Death Trip /u
Miles Davis’ [u]Kind of Blue /u

T.

19

[quote=“blueface666”]Ahhh…but did you ever hear Van’s album with the Chieftains, “Celtic Heartbeat”? God, I need a drink!

Carrickfergus

I wished I had you in Carrickfergus,
[/quote]

There are many versions of this song, but my favourite (and every else I know hates it !) is the version by the Hothouse Flowers. Fabulous.

Without any shadow of a doubt Astral Weeks is my favourite album of all time. As for individual songs, I don’t think I could pull out individual tracks. Listening to Astral Weeks is an event which has to be shared. I remember staying with a few mates in London for a few months, and we have always ended up putting on Astral Weeks at some point in the evening. (They are coming over at Christmas, and sure enough, Astral Weeks will be listened to in full and the ashtray will be passed around). Anyway, one of the inhabitants (who we shall refer to as Comfy) brought his new squeeze back three nights over a couple of weeks, and when she came into the living room on each occaision the three stoned Paddies were in the same position, listening to the same track from Astral Weeks. We decided there and then that the world would have been a better place if every new North London house built after 1968 had come installed with three indolent Irishmen, an everlasting supply of weed, and a copy of Astral Weeks. In fact now I come to think of it, isn’t that actually pretty close to reality…!?

20

Without doubt, Astral Weeks is on my list of top 5 favourite albums of all time. I recall many a night sitting in a dark room and enjoying this phenomenal album (either under the influence of beer, weed, wine or whatever). It is such a great album.

I even recall upon my pilgrimage to Belfast 2 years ago to meet up with family, relatives etc, I also spent time doing a “Van Morrison” tour by trying to track down key places.

So from a recommendation from a very strong music enthusiast, do yourselves a favour and go out and buy Astral Weeks. Your ears, mind and stereo will love you forever.

As been said before, Astral Weeks is an event!

Graham