The Beatles took separate projects in 1966 when they stopped touring for good that year. John Lennon went to Spain to film Richard Lester’s How I Won the War. George Harrison sped off to India for the first time to take sitar lessons from Ravi Shankar. Paul dreamed up a way for the band to continue by having their next record sound like the work of a touring band, even if it was the Beatles once removed. Ringo contemplated a film career too, which would come to fruition in the ensuing years.
But despite their individual pursuits, when the Beatles reconvened in November of 1966 for the recording of the ‘Strawberry Fields Forever/Penny Lane” double-A side they shared one thing in common.
They had all grown mustaches.
Since then, mustaches have been a mainstay in rock from Frank Zappa’s signature ‘stache-n-patch, to the 1800s preacher-boy look of the Band, to Freddie Mercury who led pomp-rock gods Queen to glory, mustache-first.
David Crosby grew one after leaving the Byrds, showing a commitment to a facial hedgerow that endures to this day. U2’s the Edge experimented with a myriad of mo’s, appropriating and discarding them seemingly on a daily basis.
Motorhead’s Lemmy proudly wears his mustache-cum-mutton chops, and Cheap Trick drummer Bun E. Carlos’ ‘stache has seen the fashions come and go too. The list is endless. I haven’t even mentioned Frankie Goes to Hollywood…
Here are 10 songs by 10 mustachioed rock and pop artists, some who have stayed true to their ‘staches, some who went through a phase and wisely abandoned it, and others who once wore the ‘stache proudly and the ‘staches of which are sadly no longer with us. In any case, in honour of the Movember Men’s Health Charity, I give you ten unshaven upper lips of the upper echelon.
Jimi Hendrix – Red House
James Marshall Hendrix revolutionized the guitar, first serving time as a sideman to Little Richard. From Richard, he learned that he couldn’t hang back like a sideman should. But, perhaps also, he learned the power of Little Richard’s ‘stache as a rock ‘n’ roll accessory of choice.
And who knows? Maybe the ‘stache was the key to Hendrix’s ability to shred?
Burton Cummings of The Guess Who – Hang On To Your Life
Among their skills as Canadian hit-makers who had some play in the States, despite hailing from the Canadian prairies (Winnipeg, actually), they had an advantage in lead singer and keyboardist Burton Cummings, who’s mustache has become a national icon.
You know that one relative who’s always had a mustache, and you can’t imagine him without it? Think of that on a cultural scale, and you begin to see what Burton Cummings’ ‘mo means to every Canadian, everywhere.
Jeff ‘Skunk’ Baxter of Steely Dan – My Old School
This man really is the Walrus, defining the ‘Dan’s early career as dual-guitared jazz-rock champions, and defining the extent to which one man might seek to entirely hide his mouth using his own hair.
And if you think the ‘stache is only for unwashed, peace-loving hippies, think again! Not only is this ‘stache still around today, it remains on the face of a man who’s had a second careering in designing guidance systems for missles.
Ron Mael of Sparks – This Town Ain’t Big Enough For the Both of Us
If Adolph Hitler stole Charlie Chaplin’s ‘stache in the 1930s, then Ron Mael has been trying to steal it back ever since he could grow one.
I think all would be well, if Mael looked any less insane than Hitler. But, he doesn’t. At all.
Bernard Sumner of Joy Divison – Transmission
Guitarist for Joy Division and later the same for New Order, Bernard Sumner’s brief flirtation with a ‘bumfluff’ mustache at the end of the 1970s has become legendary.
Even in his 1999 guest vocal on the Chemical Brothers “Out of Control” contained the telling line “is my mustache too much?”, proving that mustache shame (or is it envy) can dog you for decades if you play it wrong. Bassist Peter Hook of course hedged (pun intended?) his bets by sticking to his unfashionable beard.
The Village People – YMCA
There were very few bands pulling this look off in the early 80s. But, nearly every member of this unique disco-pop outfit, despite the differences in costuming, had a ‘tache they could be proud of. Cop ‘tache? You bet! Cowboy ‘tache? Check. Biker ‘tache? What, are you kidding me?
The Village People showed that no matter what your walk of life, there was a mustache out there for everyone!
Derek Smalls of Spinal Tap – Rock n’ Roll Creation
It was a ‘first mustache’ for many a special friend on the road.
If Smalls was the lukewarm water between two creative fire ‘n’ ice forces in the ‘Tap, then he is smokin’ hot on the ‘representin’ the ‘tache’ front for his otherwise clean-shaven band mates.
John Oates of Hall & Oates – You Make My Dreams Come True
John Oates was the mustache of the decade in the ’80s, his visual trademark during a very fruitful run of smash singles with Daryl Hall from 1976 to 1986.
Sadly, his mustache is no longer with us, even if (luckily) John Oates is. He shaved it off! Can you believe that!?
George Michael – Spinning the Wheel
There was a time when people thought George Michael was straight. No, honest. At one point in his career around the time this song was on the radio, he rocked a Pancho Villa vibe when it came to his moustache, a look not many reached for in 1996.
Nick Cave, with the Bad Seeds – Dig!! Lazarus Dig!!!
Nick Cave has stuck by his haircut – sort of a gothic mullet affair – from the 1980s when he made his name as the frontman for the Birthday Party. Yet, lately he’s sported a droopy outlaw mustache, kind of like he’s keeping it for a friend.
We’ll see if it and the haircut get along…
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OK. It’s full disclosure time. I am growing a mustache, participating in the aforementioned Movember event to raise awareness and money for prostate cancer research. Should you wish to support said mustache, click here to do just that.
Enjoy!
Emotional states and the act of managing them seems to be one of the key tensions in this thing we call human experience. We have a built-in capacity it seems to cover our anguish and turmoil with a coating of contentedness, a patina of pleasure, a veneer of vitality, and yet very often on the inside, we’re full of doubt, worry, insecurity, and an impending sense of doom. Well, don’t think that songwriters have overlooked this dynamic in human experience. Oh no. There are plenty of songs out there that can be counted on as bitter pills coated with sugar.
This is a macho guy’s anthem in many ways, taken from their 1961 album named after it, 
One of the most joyous sounds to me is the combined voices of Lennon and McCartney on some of those early Beatles sides. This tune, taken from the 1964 album 
, is a great example of what great singers these guys were together, with John’s lower voice anchoring the melody while Paul soars above him. Without listening to the words here , the song could be about rainbows and unicorns. But despite the sweetness of the voices, this song is all about trying to woo a widow, a woman caught up in the despair of her loss. And more, it’s about the feelings that arise from her would-be lover, that she is wasting away, denying love in exchange for a memory. To me, it’s one of the most sombre tracks the group ever recorded. And yet those voices – aural honey!
, is a prime example of his dark humour, and his prowess in using a good-time melody and style against his own sobering views of inner turmoil. Since John knew a lot about both great melody and dealing with lifelong demons, it probably made some sense to him to put them together. The song was allegedly about an acquaintance, yet it’s hard not to apply the message of the song to Lennon himself, who had by this time made the subject of his own anguish something of a favourite when he approached songwriting.
, you’d think that this was a bouncy, happy-go-lucky 60s pop throwback, with chiming guitars and twinkle-in-the-eye vocal delivery to boot. But this is a song about the empty and transitory trappings of fame, a weighty subject. Yet you can practically hear the smile on Nick Lowe’s face. Lowe understands and employs a classic angle in pop songwriting; using the contrast between lyrics and melody to drive the delivery of the song, which is ultimately a sad tale told with ironic jubilance.
In Britain at the beginning of the 80s, things were not looking too good for traditional industry. And because of that, the industrial centers of the country suffered lay-offs, long-term unemployment, and thousands and thousands of people “
expresses this is a roundabout way. To me this is like a children’s song, or an advert, except for the menacing drone of the music against the shiny, happy melody line. And then of course there are the lyrics “These are the lies they tell us/the future’s good as sold/In all the things we do and know, we really must be told.” Suddenly, after pushing through the chirpiness of the melody, we realize that this isn’t the ode to salvation through science it seems to be. It’s a propaganda piece, with a hint that the future is a place where all things are controlled – yet by whom?
Families are almost never what they seem. And yet there is often pressure on them to project a certain image to others that the family in question is normal, healthy, and fit to stand as an example to other families everywhere. I suppose there is a good side to this of course; it’s always good to aspire to an ideal, just as long as that ideal is not thought of as reality. Because in every family, there are secrets big and small. Some are unexpected in a good way; that Grandma once backpacked through Europe when she was a girl. Or that your uncle once played bass in a 
” is not what it seems either. In this tune, we get the portrait of the mundaneness of a family, of a sister sighing in her sleep, a brother who’s got a date to keep, about a house-proud Mum. This is all well and good, except for the throw-away line buried between the verses: “Something tells you that you’ve got to get away from it.” Suddenly, there are other forces at work in this tune, with the veneer of normality and even dullness scratched away just a little bit to discover dissatisfaction and negativity underneath.
They say that life is all about the journey, and it’s certainly been depicted that way in popular literature from 
. The music is almost a tent-meeting gospel singalong track, in the traditions of the timeless church hymn “I’ll Fly Away”. But, the song has a message which could be construed as being entirely opposite. What with the concepts of American manifest destiny, the Second Coming of Christ, and Star Trek fantasies of a harmonious world government and an end to hunger and poverty in the future, our culture seems to be clinging to the hope that things will work out in the end. With this song, the jauntiness of the tune seems to hint, rather ironically, that no future is guaranteed but for the present times which will shape and define it.
Love – the two-edged sword. It can make you, or entirely ruin you. Of course, love has been the subject of popular song for centuries, and I imagine too that heartbreak hasn’t changed all that much over the course of time. With the advent of heartbreak of course come a myriad of other emotions, exploding outward like shrapnel from an emotional epicenter. Among those comes desperation, delusion, and the distortion of one’s self image, defined forever (or seeming to be) by a damaged connection to one who doesn’t return the sentiment. How do you make a perky pop song about that, exactly? Well, it’s been done numerous times.
, “Lovefool” was such a song, with the chirpy backing vocals and bouncy rhythm, all aiding and abetting lead singer Nina Persson’s plaintive vocal of someone who will settle for the pretense of love instead of the real thing, just to remain with the one she adores. The tragedy of that proved to be an infectious dance groove by the middle of the 90s, perhaps fueled by the universality of the scenario. And as above, what better way to expunge the feelings of worthlessness than by singing and dancing about it and to it? If the origin of the blues can be traced anywhere, then surely that place is here.
One of the most frightening sounds is the ring of a phone early in the wee hours of the morning from loved ones far away. Phone calls like that, unless someone is expecting a baby, are almost always bad news of the worst kind. It means someone is dead, doesn’t it – or at very least in the drunk tank. But think of the life of the internationally traveled musician, finding themselves in all time zones for large portions of the year while life happens for their families and friends at home without them. The chances of such wee-hour phone calls expand exponentially. And as a result, the news and the experience of finding out the news, filters down into songwriting. This is what happened with Neil Finn while touring with his brother Tim. His friend and former bandmate Paul Hester had been found dead near his home in Australia, and Finn was in England.
is a tale of bad news, sadness, and helplessness, all to a blithe backing and even “la la la” backing vocals which Hester probably would have appreciated. And this is just the thing. With all of the tragedy, the song that came out of it was true to the memory of the one who’d passed, known as he was for his onstage banter and clownish demeanour. This is a wake of a song, rather than a funeral. And it points out that there are many ways to mourn, many tones in the emotional paintbox to help one grieve the loss of a friend.
Fame is the bitch-goddess of Western culture, a thing to be reviled as much as it is to be coveted. Our reality-TV addicted habits of recent years is but one example of people doing pretty much anything to become recognized for something, anything. Yet, from the mouths of the most famous names we can think of, we hear stories of lost identity, lost humanity, interspersed with tales of artistic and personal triumph. Is fame all it’s cracked up to be? It seems to be a bit of a catch-22. Only the famous can really answer that question. And for them, the answer is a moot point. Funny old world, isn’t it?
Chuck Berry has been quoted as saying that if his job as a painter had made him more money than the music, than he would have stuck with the painting. But, this tale of a poor country boy who ‘never learned to read or write so well/ but he could play the guitar just like a ring in a bell”, is about someone with, possibly, fewer options than Chuck, but with a singular gift to transport him into the stratosphere. This is a classic rock n’ roll story – perhaps the only rock n roll story – lived out by the chosen few, although in many cases with more than they bargained for. But, Chuck Berry is setting up a fantasy story here, not one for real life. This is a 1950s 
among a number of songs which would immortalize Berry’s own fame. Yet, it’s “Johnny B. Goode” which was included in the package 
By 1966, the Beatles had seen enough of fame in an annis horriblis that involved 
showed that the Beatles knew that the pursuit of fame was mostly about the accessories in the end. “I got no car and it’s breaking my heart/But I found a driver and that’s a start”. These young men had perspective, that those truly seeking the accouterments of fame are ultimately ridiculous. And it was after time spent among many of these types of people, those who wished to bask in their reflected glory, that the band would decide to quit touring, and to quit attending the ‘right’ parties in order to concentrate on the business of being serious artists. This new pursuit was more about escaping the trappings of fame than embracing them, and ultimately was the driving force in transforming pop/rock music into something to be respected, rather than something simply on which to hang an image.
By the end of the 60s, a lot of money could be made in the pop star game, and so the star-maker machinery was built up to full-steam, crushing many a dream in its wake. Not ones to miss the changing times were the Byrds, who had been inspired by both the electrified jangle of Beatles and the folk leanings of Bob Dylan to construct what became known as folk-rock. This 1967 song from the album 
offers ironic criticism of the whole fame game, when the benign act of learning to play an electric guitar leads to selling …”your soul to the company/Who are waiting there to sell plastic ware”.
Fame is an elusive mistress, with many well-known names – Vincent Van Gogh, Piotr Tchaikovsky, Edgar Allen Poe, and many more – who only won her favour after their own deaths. In 1969, British folk artist Nick Drake would ruminate on the the randomness of fame on this key track from the debut album 
, not knowing that he himself would serve as yet another example of an artist sharing similar post-mortem popularity.
Everyone has a benchmark to use to measure when they’ve ‘made it’. By the mid-70s, when a pop star, the coveted cover of Rolling Stone magazine was surely the Superbowl of rock stardom. But, very few bands allowed themselves to drop their cool demeanours and click their heels upon reaching that goal. After all, rock n’ roll is not about acceptance by the press. It’s supposed to be about rebellion, about sticking it to the man. It’s not about getting ‘five copies to my mother’. Your mother? C’mon guys! You’re in a rock n’ roll band! Yet, this song by Dr. Hook gets to the heart of the matter, and pushes past the coolness that rock musicians are supposed to have in the face of widespread acceptance. The song points out that everyone, aloof rock stars especially, wants the respect of their peers, and of the public too. You can say you’re in it for the music. But, to say that you don’t care about acceptance? Well, you’re not fooling anyone, says this tune.
Where there are times when fame comes too late, there are quite a few more instances of fame not coming at all to those who seek it, despite their talent. In this tale of a man crushed by disappointment, and the woman who stays by his side anyway, fame is something that is no longer an option “proving too much for the man” and driving him homeward. Such is the tale of many who travel from far flung locations to the Big City, seeking fame and riches that may or may not exist in the way they are promised. This song is about the dark side of the rock myth about the boy from the country who makes good as a star. Sometimes, Johnny B. Goode just isn’t good enough.
ot To Use My Imagination
album was Gladys Knight & the Pips biggest hit, after a string of chart showings when they were a Motown act from 1966 to 1973. This tune was the group’s only number one hit, their debut on the Buddah label.
When you really think about it, the mega-successful musician’s life can very easily fall into the realm of cliche. After all, what is it that these guys are getting paid to do exactly? Make up songs, sing them, and get what? Summer homes? Masseratis that do 185? 
Walsh was a late joiner to the Eagles, who were massive upon his arrival as well as before it. Before that, he’d forged a reputation in 
There is an old proverb that says that “success is the best revenge”. Getting out of the small town you’re in, maybe changing your accent, and getting a new life is the goal of a lot of people. And sometimes, escaping one’s origins becomes a full-time job, making sure that there are enough props in one’s life to ensure that the true root of one’s identity is not seen as having not evolved from that which they once were. This is the underlying element in this 1986 song about the shallowness of success and fame found on Peter Gabriel’s smash record 
For many, fame is not something to be sought, but rather something to be survived. The Travelling Wilburys was a composite of several branches in rock’s family tree, from Sun Records veteran Roy Orbison, to 60s icons Bob Dylan and George Harrison, to the kid brother figures in ELO’s Jeff Lynne, and of course Tom Petty. All of them had been through the grind of what it means to achieve, and be saddled with the burdens of being known wherever they went. Harrison had survived Beatlemania. Dylan was still trying to shake off his “voice of a generation” millstone, and the others too had known the rigours of the road and all of the instabilities that life brings. And this is why this tune, which sounds like a form letter to be filled out by new friends and lovers for people in the position of our Wilbury heroes. The very fact that each of these ‘legends’ took on stage names for this record and the one to follow, made it somewhat of a one-finger salute to their own images, or the images many had of them. And because these are legends at work here, this song is believable in that loneliness and weariness is as much a part of fame as riches and glory.
a project which started out as a B-side to a George Harrison single, and blossomed into an entire record made by friends and contemporaries who wanted to bring the music back down to earth. And on this tune, we get Harrison’s trademark slide playing, Dylan’s wheezy harmonica, Orbison’s operatic tenor, and more delights for which each member had made their fame. Yet this was about making music in spite of fame, rather than because of it.
The temptations of fame and the dangers surrounding them all have one thing in common – pursuing them means abandoning the pursuit of finding out who one is. In this tune, taken from the album 
the lead character Cysco is hoodwinked by fame, distracted by its promises to the point where his own identity is subsumed in pursuit of it. A perennial question to the newly rich is “will the money change me”? And it’s the terminally honest person who responds “how could it not”?
American author and social critic 
One of the things which makes music so vital is that it creates heroes out of those who deliver the best. Arthur Conley celebrates his contemporaries in this 1967 classic cut which immortalizes James Brown, 
which shared the title of his hit. The song itself is an unadorned tribute to the music, acknowledging his heroes and the heroes of his own fans. There are few tunes to match the passion for one’s own contemporaries. It’s as if Conley knew that soul music was enjoying a golden age, with the best of the best at the heights of their powers.
Music made up of important elements that make it greater than the sum of its parts. Sylvester Stewart, otherwise known as Sly Stone captured this idea in his 1968 anthem to the power of music “Dance to the Music”, with each voice and sound from his group The Family Stone throwing in to create the celebratory sound of a song dedicated to a groove. The tune is taken from the album of the same name, Dance to the Music, but has also appeared on their first 
compilation as a centerpiece to the band’s very identity. This song was made at a time when interracial bands were still fairly rare, and definitely odd to see on national television. So, this mixture of sounds – the organ, the guitar, bassist 
Music is a means to provide if not an escape from life, then certainly as a force to inject a little perspective. There is something to be said for anything in one’s life that allows one to catch a glimpse of something inspiring and even therapeutic, and music for many is both. For Gil Scott-Heron, it was the sound of 
, Scott-Heron views music as a place of solace and comfort, and encourages us the listener to do the same.
, which is looked upon by many as Coltrane’s masterpiece. Although Scott-Heron’s work emphasizes social justice and reform, this tune is an ode to the restorative powers of music in one’s life, a counterbalance to the efforts to transform the world in a political sense. In this way, the joy to be found in music is the engine to making joy a reality in the lives of others. And it helps us to give us balance so that we can continue in our efforts to push forward the things which are just as central to our identities. Music has a spiritual dimension. It is important, potent, and life-giving. It is not to be dismissed.
Another thing which music has the power to do is to tie people together with a sense of common history. In Stevie Wonder’s case, it was the jazz of the big band era, which was music he grew up with. In particular, this song is dedicated to the immortal 
– was released. This is Stevie’s tribute to a man who added to the American experience, specifically the black American experience, by excelling in the form, and by taking talent and using it to create something communal and life-giving. In this, the song is also about how visceral music can be, that it affects people in a spiritual way, but also in a bodily way too – “they can feel all over” because “music is a world within itself/it’s a language we all understand”, says Stevie in this song which was a major hit for him in 1976 and one of many for which he is best known.
Bands like AC/DC were pretty self-aware all around. They know that the kind of music they were making was not well-loved by everyone, particularly the parents of their fans. How times have changed, when I can see a 14 year old kid today wearing an AC/DC T-shirt, knowing he may well have become a fan by flipping through his parents record collection. But, in 1980 when the breakthrough album 
came out, rock n’ roll of this kind was still viewed through eyes narrowed by suspicion and contempt, at least from the point of view of the older generation. “Rock n’ Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution” is a reaction against its critics, revealing that the music is what it is, and with an affect that is undeniable on many whether one cares to admit it or not. Rock n’ roll is nothing if it isn’t a celebratory flip of the bird to anyone with a complaint. “If it’s too loud”, the proverb says, “you’re too old.”
Music is a means of elevation. This can be in the sense that the experience of life is heightened when music is enjoyed, but it also means that those who do the best at bringing it to you gain the stature of hero and demigod – just like those listed in Arthur Conley’s song, although that tune was more about the admiration of his contemporaries. This song by Sheffield’s ABC is the voice of the worshipers to one such demigod of soul music;
, is a big “thank you” to those who came before them having made the music which inspired a generation to make music of their own. This is a pure expression of a love for the music, with plenty of affection left over for the man as well. Note the bona fide shrine depicted in the video – that may be a bit on the cheeky side, but there is an element of truth in there too.
To continue with the idea of music as something associated with divine, music draws pilgrims to its sites of origin, just as many religions draw pilgrims to places like 
is a trace of that history and what it means to the narrator, the portrait of someone following the footsteps of history in the “ghost of Elvis” who takes him as far as the gates of Graceland before passing through them and disappearing.
A lot of traditional music is centred around dance, possibly because it is the most communal thing one can do – let loose and move to music together. I think this is what is behind club culture, which replaces the religious rites of dancing together to evoke spirits. Now, we 
captures best – music as a collective activity, enjoyed in community not unlike a religious ceremony.
Often, the music of our youth is remembered like the soundtrack to our time in the garden of Eden; memorable, joyous, and innocent. It’s when we’re young that our passions first take a hold of us, and that makes the passions themselves as much a part of our very identities as we get older. For the narrator in Wilco’s “Heavy Metal Drummer”, taken from the band’s 2002 album (and arguably their masterpiece) 
, the sound of paradise was the heavy metal bands he saw at summer festivals as they played KISS covers “beautiful and stoned”.
It’s been established by now that the music we’ve come to hold dear, that is in fact ours, is more than just a pleasant diversion in our lives. For some, it means a basis for identity, and as such their is a certain loyalty placed in the music we love, and those who make it. For hip hop artist Nas, in this title track taken from the 2006 album 
, there is a responsibility to the music which artists have to make it better, and to protect its place in our lives as something which it is supposed to be – a force for expression and transformation.
Get a job. Work hard for the money, 9 to 5. Take this job and shove it. Popular song has a lot to say when it comes to the daily grind, it seems. Many of the most famous songs about work being in the rock n’ roll tradition look on “working for the man every night and day” as being antithetical to the goals of freedom and rebellion on which the values of rock n’ roll are traditionally based. And maybe this is because “takin’ care of business” in the Bachman-Turner Overdrive sense means being able to dream of the possibilities that work need not be as demoralizing as all of that. Yet, there are scores of songs about working, toiling, and sometimes just making do, which resonate with us because scratching to get by is a reality for most people.
The mission of early rock n’ roll records was clear – give teens a voice (after all, they’re the ones buying the records…). And no song better embodies the core message of that mission quite like 
The theme of the catch-22 when it comes to working to live, not living to work is recurring in popular song. Here in 
In some cases, work can really help you focus on what is most important to you. Yet sometimes, it can consume your life rather than just provide a means of sustaining it. Doing a job can often mean using it to avoid other things in one’s life, like being connected to others and embracing love. Or, it can simply prove to be a distraction when we’re thinking about the more life-changing aspects of our lives; often the mundaneness of work routines provides an escape hatch to making the real decisions in our lives with the illusion that our jobs are the things which define us, not our relationships or even our character.
To many, work is not just the pursuit of a career, it is literally life and death. This is particularly true when we’re talking about the 
Much like the Band, Tom Waits also provided portraits of characters common to American myth in his songs. But instead of 
One thing that working a job that could be considered “dead end” is that sometimes the connections with others that are so important in any circumstance can come about through sharing a situation like this too. Dead end jobs which bring people of various backgrounds together often provide something that is often the thing which pulls us through in any scenario – friendship and camaraderie due to a shared struggle. This song by Rose Royce is the theme song to a 1976 film 
The message “stay in school” has been a popular slogan for the importance of education. But in Billy Bragg’s 1983 song “To Have and Have Not”, which is taken from one of his earliest releases 
This song could very well have been added to my 
Working life, like other aspects of life, is in constant motion in terms of how work is done and by whom, a lot of the time driven by technology. This song which is taken from Sting’s 1985 debut solo album 
Finding one’s self in a job that we hate is a pretty common experience. And in this song by Fountains of Wayne, taken from their 2003 album 
This is a classic children’s song about childhood and the nature of growing up. The song is a folk favourite, a story of a boy and his dragon, which is really a metaphor for childhood itself. There is a certain melancholy here, a sadness that when a child gets to be of a certain age where the once cherished silliness and imagination of childhood become sources of embarrassment, or simply get pushed aside due to developing interests in other areas of life, something about that child which had been so intrinsic to their personalities becomes less easily seen. In some cases, it disappears entirely. This to me is what this song is about; that as we grow, we add to our own experiences and pick up treasures along the way. But, much which is just as valuable is often lost too.
Sometimes, the young are very much aware of the passage of time, just because such awareness is made pretty evident by what was once called the “
There is an odd paradox which often happens as one gets to the point where they reckon their lives are half over. There is a drive to recapture youth by embracing it in the form of a younger lover. Yet, when the pursuit of this bears fruit, it’s often realized that the attempt to recapture youth by entering into a tryst with someone half of one’s age actually makes one feel even older. That’s what’s happening here in Steely Dan’s “Hey Nineteen”, the biggest hit off of their 1980 
They say that parenthood changes everything, and it does. This is often meant as a condemnation, that the wild impetuous things which concerned you when young are instantly swept aside, and middle age and middle class sets in. But in this song by Joni Mitchell originally recorded for her 1982 album 
Much like Mitchell’s tune, this is a song about becoming a new person simply by getting older and gaining some new perspectives. Perhaps this is the lighter side to Mitchell’s musings on middle-age, when “17 has turned 35”. You get the impression that in this song, taken from Mellencamp’s 1987 album 
Life is busy for the involved; work to do, people to meet, places to see, causes to defend. Bruce Cockburn is one such individual, diversifying his career as a singer-songwriter-guitarist by traveling the globe and investigating socio-political events and the people who are directly affected by them. For all of the activity though, there still appears to be a sense of waiting as described in an earlier song from his 1979 Dancing in the Dragon’s Jaws album called ‘Hills of Morning’; “underneath the mask of the sulphur sky/a bunch of us were busy waiting.” Yet in 
In many of the songs so far, age is a thing which sneaks up on you; suddenly, you’re older and the world ceases to make sense in the same way that it once did. But in Pulp’s 1998 song from their album 
As a companion piece to the Pulp song, this tune by John Mayer is a less subtle, less satirical take on the fear of aging. Yet in some ways, it’s a more respectful view of age and the aged in a misplaced sort of way. This is the point of view of one who realises that getting old isn’t for wimps, that it takes guts which he’s not sure he has. Taken from his 2006 album 
A song by Ron Sexsmith, this one from the 2007 release 
At the end of the 1950s and early 60s, there was an odd sub-genre of pop song called the death ballad, or 
Of all of the Beatles, George was the one who most found the riches and fame resulting from his job as guitarist in a pop group something of an absurdity. This is particularly true in light of his spiritual leanings toward 
In many ways,
For some, the idea of an afterlife is very comforting; the chance to see their loved ones who have passed on, and to possibly discover what lies beyond our seemingly random existence on earth. Yet, for others, the hope of oblivion is just as comforting, to know that life is ultimately meaningful and valuable, because this is the only shot we have of defining that meaning for ourselves. It is this latter idea which collaborators 
1998’s 
Norman Greenbaum listened to a lot of country music on the radio, most notably 
A lot of songs don’t mention God directly, but rather describe how easily one’s point of view can change when faced with the beauty of nature and all of the power in metaphor to be found there. For some years, singer-songwriter Bruce Cockburn had been working toward an aha moment in pursuit of this phenomenon.
U2 have had an interest in Christian faith since their inception, with enthusiasms for it being relative to which band member you’re speaking to. But one undeniable thing is u2’s political stances and social consciousness, which both wins fans as well as repell potential ones. “Wake Up Dead Man” from their 
The theme of absurdity when it comes to the world and the God who purportedly made it is a pretty strong connection. On Costello’s “God’s Comic”, one of the best tracks from his Spike album, God is a misrepresented figure who scratches his head at humanity, making him wonder whether he “should have given the world to the monkeys”.
One thing which the best songwriters with faith are able to do is draw a distinction between the idea or even person of God, and the systems which are built up around them. Sam Phillips and her husband 
Sometimes, different takes about God and the value of faith can be reflected in the work of a single writer. Take Andy Partridge, for instance. His 1986 song (later added to pressings of the band’s 
The Delete Bin 