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For an even more paranoid, freaked-out vibe than the Electric Prunes, try the Butthole Surfers' "Who Was In My Room Last Night?"
"Tuesday Morning," by the Pogues, of course. Lovely song—wistful and sweet. The one good thing they did post-MacGowan—and it's impossible to imagine them doing it while he was still in the band; his whole persona was predicated on the heartbreak lurking inside every joy. I imagine they had to exorcise his presence from the band before Spider Stacy could reach into his trunk of unrecorded songs and lay down something so purely optimistic.
Razorlight are (like Placebo) probably shit, but I still sing along with "In The Morning."
"Touch Me In The Morning" is originally by Diana Ross, I think—there's a nice reggae version by John Holt that's worth seeking out.
"Into Brooklyn, Early In The Morning," by The Innocence Mission, captures that magic hour when the streets are empty, when it seems like the city is waiting for you: "Beautiful life, full of grieving / so will sing the Russian choir / They will sing in the square / as you come down /through the Brooklyn air to the ground." The music sounds a bit like "Sunday Morning," too, which I think is no coincidence.
There's a traditional Cherokee chant that translates "I am of the Great Spirit"—there's a gorgeous arrangement of it on Robbie Robertson's soundtrack for the documentary The Native Americans, where it's sung by Rita Coolidge. It appears under the title "Cherokee Morning Song."
My favorite morning song of all, though, is probably David Baerwald's "Brand New Morning." It comes near the end of his album Triage; it's a fiercely political record, its lyrics a catalog of horrors and existential dread, of power, corruption, and lies—until the closing, which holds out the possibility of solace in simplicity, in honesty, and, yeah, maybe love. A snippet:
A woman's asleep in the bedroom
A man is prowling up and down the hall
Coffee brewing in the new machine
He'll be making eggs and all
She's going to college, she's gonna get a degree
She knows one thing now—she knows she loves me
We could get married, we could be so happy
The truth wouldn't be like we were covering up
...all to a groove that's gentle but sturdy. It may not look like much on paper, but in context it feels hugely redemptive. |
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