Ruminations and recipes from a small kitchen in a big city.

25.1.09

Radio Nowhere.

Even before video killed the radio star small films were made to accompany songs. It seems the director of this late 1960s slow-motion black and white artefact complete with squirrel had been watching too many Ingmar Bergman films. Or perhaps it was just the default three-minute clip style of the time.

Why post it? The song came on the car radio yesterday as I was crossing Bolte Bridge with a setting orange sun on the left and a gilded city on the right. Nice. The tight drum barrage in the chorus raises goosebumps. Not sure why. The haunting piano line was apparently played on Paul McCartney's white grand when the song was recorded in the Abbey Road studios thirty-nine years ago.

3 comments:

Janis Gore said...

Too many closeups of mouths singing. Almost as bad as mouths eating.

neil said...

Loved it. Understand the goosebumps, got ém too.

kitchen hand said...

Yes, Janis, the teeth are way too close.

Neil, did you notice a long-haired Glenn Wheatley? He went on to manage Mississippi which became Little River Band. Two great bands.