"Maxine's Parlour": perfect pop song

I asked Chat GPT the other day to give me some negative feedback. I actually fed it huge chunks of my writings from this blog and specifically requested harsh criticism. In the midst of the sea of bullshit that AI is known for, two things stood out: 1) I use too many personal anecdotes and 2) some of my references are too niche. 

Valid points. My own experience, though, remains the best way for me to establish the emotional connection with the work of art as well as the audience. Personality comes through the writing style as well as the stories we tell. These are not diary entries and nor are they magazine articles, but I would like to think there is a balance there. The second point is tricky in the sense that it is absolutely true and yet there is not much I can do about it. In the end, you write the sort of pieces that you yourself would like to read, and niche references as well as obscure subject matters have always intrigued me. I hate instructions and overstatements and I believe in the effort from both the creator and the beholder. 

Which is all a somewhat fitting setup to talk about a piece of music very few have heard. 

I have always been searching for the perfect pop song. For reasons too numerous to name, the focus of my attention has mostly been the 1960s. "(Do I Figure) In Your Life". "Different Drum" "Sunny Goodge Street". "Care of Cell 44". "Walk Away Renee". Countless others. This is, of course, not about the final result but, rather, about the process of searching. Because there are few things as rewarding as hearing that crackling sound of an old recording and getting something magical out of the muffled sound of your speakers. Which is exactly what happened when I heard the original version of "Maxine's Parlour" a few weeks ago. 

Interestingly, I knew this song from way before. There is a rare BBC session by Honeybus where they played this song along with a few other pop gems like "Françoise" (one of those slight masterpieces Peter Dello was so very good at) and John Phillips' "Like An Old Time Movie" (one of those lengthy and verbose choruses that actually work). In the version by Honeybus, "Maxine's Parlour" seemed like a delightful little pop song that I thought was actually written by the band. Years later, as I was reading the song credits from a Honeybus compilation, I realised that the song was actually composed by one William Fay. Moreover, the song was released as a 1968 single by a completely forgotten band with one of the worst names in existence: The Crocheted Doughnut Ring. And it was a great single, too (their sole one), except that I also realised who William Fay was.

William Fay was none other than Bill Fay, the sadly overlooked English singer-songwriter who recorded two excellent but obscure albums in the early 70s and was then rediscovered about forty (!) years later, at which point he released a handful of sweetly melodic, introspective albums that I have reviewed for my blog (Life Is People and Who Is The Sender? are especially good). Moreover, 2004 saw the release of the compilation From the Bottom of an Old Grandfather Clock that collected 25 demos and outtakes from Fay's largely unknown career in the late 60s. One of those songs was, naturally, "Maxine's Parlour", and it was utter perfection.

Now the sound quality is not great, but I have always believed that a good song will come through. And it does, and how. All that melodicism, all that yearning packed within three minutes of soaring wistfulness that reaches absolute catharsis with the unlikely slide guitar that romps through the background. The harpsichord could make it too precious and cute, but the melody is just too timeless to be hampered by the muffled noises and dodgy tape hisses - never mind the harpsichord!

I think it is telling that Dan Bejar (of Destroyer and New Pornographers) recognises that genius of that song and has performed it live a few times. Bejar, whose latest albums feature songwriting that I would call unfocused and even meandering, does know his way around a great melody. Records like Streethawk: A Seduction are simply dripping with classic tunes.

So there you have it, an article full of personal anecdotes and obscure references. Most importantly, though, it is about "Maxine's Parlour". The perfect pop song.