Rarely have I bought an album that lots of other people are listening to. So, I have been ignoring Amy MacDonald for a while: vaguely aware that she had real talent, vaguely aware that I liked the few songs I’d heard, though they are not quite a genre I listen to. But today, HMV had the CD playing. And song after song, I kept thinking ‘this woman is really good… she is complete control of her genre… she knows what she’s doing… she’s good.’ So the CD came home with me.
If any of you are as behind the times as I am, go find the CD.
I think we should scrap whatever is planned for first morning of General Synod, and force all the clergy and lay reps to listen to ‘Youth of Today’ and ‘Run’, then get the Youth Network to teach us.
We need to learn to hear this and engage with it.
Addendum: parts of the songs are quoted below.
The Youth of Today
Maybe if you were some spearheaded guy
I would listen to what you have to say
But you’re just some incapable figure
thinking you’re bigger than me
But you’re not
Yet you don’t know a thing about the youth of today
Stating your opinion
Making it ring in my head all day
And you say
My children weren’t the same
My children’s children they’re the ones to blame
In my day we were better behaved
But it’s not your day no more
And maybe if you had a true point of view
I would listen to you…
Will you tell me when the lights are fading
‘cos I can’t see no more
will you tell me when the song stops playing
‘cos I can’t hear…no more
She said I don’t know what your [sic] living for
…I don’t know what your living for at all
He said I don’t know what your living for
…I don’t know what you’re living for at all
But I will run until my feet no longer run no more
And I will kiss until my lips no longer feel no more
And I will love until my heart it aches
And I will love until my heart it breaks
and I will love until there’s nothing more to live for.
Will you tell me when the fighting’s over
‘cos I can’t take I can’t take no more
Will you tell me when the day is done
‘cos I can’t run, I can’t run no more.
(dear pedants: don’t complain about the grammar/ spelling. This time the mistakes aren’t mine. But somehow it felt important to leave them.)