Song of the day – 559: Molly Drake

Disarmingly evocative. Listen to the lyrics, you’ll soon understand. Home recordings, dusted off but with the dust still attached nonetheless.

We strolled the Spanish marketplace at 90 in the shade
With all the fruit and vegetables so temptingly arrayed
And we can share a memory as every lover must
And I remember oranges
I remember oranges
I remember oranges
And you remember dust

I’m not so fond of Nick, but I’m becoming very fond of this collection of his mum’s recordings from the 50s. It reminds me of Julie London a little but that’s more because she doesn’t shout and that’s because she trills and breaths as was the fashion. These aren’t torch songs. These are far more homely (not an insult). The tenor and tone of the recordings mean that they feel special indeed, intimate. The voice is… the voice is like the spring rain beating down on my window outside. Refreshing, and with the smell of pears.

Beautiful.

by Everett True

My name is Everett True. I am a music critic. This is what I do. I criticise music. The clue is in my job description – music critic. I do not consider myself a journalist, as I do not research or report hard news. I do not consider myself a commentator as I believe that everyone should be a participant. I criticise people and in return I am not surprised if other people criticise me. It is part of the whole deal of being in the public arena. I am Everett True. Believe in me and I have power like a God. Quit believing in me and I no longer exist.