Daily Mael 1972






A Woofer In Tweeter’s Clothing

An aura of S&M about this one with Russell sounding particularly hysterical against a frenzied musical thrashing. Slight Bowie-esque touches here and there as well.

The familiar cry of the cheated toy consumer. Oh, the disappointment as the thrill of the new purchase turns to anger. An everyday frustration given operatic treatment. Marvellous.

A song that can’t help but bear the continental stamp of Sparks grandeur. In French at first then explicated in English.  Russell inhabits the ‘cold marble’  of a sculpture, daring the tourists to lift him.

There’s a little woof woof type noise which is about the only spanner in the works of the instrumentation here. A reasonably straightfoward tune with some rambling conflation of ‘Jazz folk-rock fusion.’

The Mael mind truly flirts with peculiar and unsettling imagery at times. It’s a lovely wee tune, mind you, with just a slightly wispy psychedelic tangent towards the end.

At first appears to be a fairly faithful rendition. Then it changes to an uptempo romp. There’s a couple of subtle lyric changes from the original – the ‘smiling drop of sun’ and ‘drink I have with my bread’ not ‘drink with jam and bread.’ How odd.

An incredible sounding and snarling track with some outstanding modern yodelling and very spooky overtones and undertones. The sense of entrapment and desire to escape haunts the song throughout.

Musically transported back to the 18th century with perky strings and piano. A novel choice of backdrop for an everday story of Bob, who makes friends by crashing his car into any vehicle whose driver takes his fancy.

The powerful thumping rhythm and bass re-assert the authoritative nature of the music as Russell wails the refrain in his best falsetto.  “I am sure we will appreciate our new found leisure time,” chorus the obedient servants.

Turn up the wacky-ometer. Starts with a waltz, then a dramatic change of pace as a drum roll begets a guitar explosion and all hell breaks loose. The chorus chants out the letters of the title and then a sweet music box type keyboard and accordion backing herald in another shift in tone. You can tell all the band members had a hand in this as each instrument is afforded equal showboating. Great fun, nonsense lyrics, but I like how his voice changes: “It cracks like Arctic ice-flows then it croaks like old-folks homes.”

Solid chuggy tune with lovely crisp guitars. The whistling adds atmosphere in a ‘soldiers marching off to war’ like way. An awkward tale of the perils of bringing home a girlfriend from Germany, if your folks have never forgiven the Germans.


1967 – 1969

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