Killing me softly again…
The item on Killing Me Softly With His Song in The Originals Vol. 30, posted on Friday, restated the most commonly repeated story about the genesis of the song; that is, original singer Lori Lieberman had written a poem about seeing Don McLean in concert, which lyricist Norman Gimbel adapted to form the lyrics for the song. Lieberman has repeated the story in interviews, but Norman Gimbel dismisses it. He contacted me to set the record straight. Here then are Gimbel’s verbatim recollection of how the lyrics for Killing Me Softly, which were accompanied by Charles Fox’s melody, came to be:
Norman Gimbel, co-writer of Killing Me Softly With His Song
“Famed composer Lalo Shifrin (Mission Impossible theme) and I were writing some songs for one of his films. We discussed writing a full musical for the theater together. He suggested a particular novel that I read as source material. In the book the author described his character as walking into a bar and having a drink and listening to the piano player who was killing him softly with his blues. I made note of the line in my ‘idea book’ and years later, after Charles Fox and got a recording deal for Ms. Leiberman at Capitol Records, had to write 10 songs for her first album. I retrieved the line and changed the word ‘blues’ to to ‘song’.”
It is fair to say that Gimbel is none too pleased with Lori Lieberman’s version.
Gimbel’s career has been impressive. A member of the Songwriters’ Hall of Fame since 1984, he wrote the English lyrics for Girl From Ipanema and Sway (Dean Martin), co-wrote the songs for two Broadway hits (Whoop-Up and Conquering Hero), and several songs for movies, working with the likes of Shifrin, Bill Conti, Elmer Bernstein, Dave Grusin, Quincy Jones, Michel Columbier, Pat Williams, Maurice Jarre and so on. Among these movie composers was Charles Fox, with whom Gimbel went on to form a productive partnership.
With Fox he wrote a series of TV themes, including Happy Days, Laverne & Shirley, Paper Chase, Wonder Woman, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, and Angie. They won an Emmy for their theme for the 1970 film version of the children’s series H.R. Pufnstuf. He won a Best Original Song Oscar, after two previous nominations, in 1980 for “It Goes Like It Goes” from Norma Rae, with music by David Shire, and at 81 remains active in songwriting today.
His songs have been recorded by some of the most accomplished singers in pop. It’s fair to presume that few singers have managed to create as bad versions of them as did German Helge Schneider with his 2007 teutonic remake of Killing Me Softly With His Song. He is a comedian but also a musician; it’s impossible to tell whether or not he is having us on. File under “Worst cover recordings ever”.
I don”t really care much for Mothers” Day or Fathers” Day, mostly because I”ve had neither mother nor father since I was 18. Still, as a father I damn well expect to get breakfast in bed today. High hopes”¦ Fathers” Day, of course, does bring to mind my late father, who died suddenly when I was 11. It has occurred to me that I am now at the same age he was when I was born, the fifth of his six children. He doubtless was far more mature than I am now. He probably wouldn”t have written blogs about moustaches in pop and the twattery of Michael Fucking Bolton. But then, I didn”t fight in World War 2, my brother did not die in war, my father was not persecuted by the Nazis, and I”ve never been widowed. Of course he was more mature than I will ever be.
Not so much a song about parental relations than one of despair and hope. Released on 1988’s Idlewild album, the singer notes that just where his father lives in Scotland, the military has set up a missile system. That persuades him that he does not want to be responsible for bringing a child into this ugly world. But then he comes across something of great beauty “” a recording of early 20th century opera singer Enrico Caruso “” and it changes his notion of fatherhood, about his unborn child and about being the child of a father. It is a very beautiful song from a desperately under-appreciated album.
This quite brilliant 2005 track is an indictment of a really shitty father who seems to have abandoned his family. The song drips with bitterness and anger and sarcasm and a healthy shot of self-pity. “Your autograph”s worthless so don”t send me letters, and don”t mail me cash “cause your money is no good. What”s left in your mattress is holes that lack of love left, some hair from a horse and none of it is yours, man.” Somebody has Daddy Issues”¦
Loudon”s children, Rufus and Martha, evidently are not great fans of his parenting style, as we”ll see in the next song. Here, Loudon addresses his teenage son, recalling his own difficult relationship with his father, suggesting that volatile filial interactions are hereditary. He”d rather not fight with his son: “I don’t know what all of this fighting is for; but we”re having us a teenage/middle-age war.” Presumably father and son don”t hold back when screaming at each other. And yet: “This thing between a father and a son “” maybe it”s power and push and shove; maybe it”s hate”¦but probably it”s love.”
Perhaps Loudon can persuade his son, but daughter is disenchanted. He has clearly caused Martha (and, it seems, her mother) so much pain that the breakdown in their relationship is complete: “I will not pretend, I will not put on a smile, I will not say I”m all right for you”¦” And then the repeated outburst: “You bloody mother fucking asshole. Oh you bloody mother fucking asshole.” No breakfast in bed for Loudon on Fathers” Day then?
Ah, a father after my own heart. A man of my height (what do you mean “only” 5″7, Gladys) who knows how to swear and a short fuse. But he loved his children. This song, from 1973″s Neither One Of Us album, should resonate with adult children remembering their father through the medium of anecdote: “Ooh, my brothers and sisters still talk about how Daddy lost his temper that day. You see, he built a picket fence from the garage to the house. Well, Sam, tell me what I say, the same day the garbage man backed into the fence and the whole darn thing gave way. You should have been there”¦”
The family that sings together, stays together. Until somebody dies. Johnny Cash didn”t have a particularly happy family; his father blamed Johnny for the accidental death of his older brother. In this song, written by Carl Perkins, the family enjoys harmony, despite poverty. “Daddy sang bass, mama sang tenor. Me and little brother would join right in there.” Now, however, they”re all dead. Cash remembers the closeness and has the religious convictions to presume meeting them again in the afterlife: “Singing seems to help a troubled soul. One of these days, and it won”t be long, I”ll rejoin them in a song.” Cash died 34 years after recording the song at San Quentin jail.
An appropriate title for today, even if the certain election of the misogynist homophobe Jacob Zuma is not a cause for extravagant optimism (though he can’t be much worse than Aids denialist, Mugabe-supporting Thabo Mbeki) . I”ve pushed the fare of Durban”s Farryl Purkiss in the past. This track, from his wonderful eponymously-titled 2006 album, is absolutely beautiful, in the singer-songwriter vein. He cites as an influence Elliott Smith, and at times sounds a lot like him, as well as the likes of Iron & Wine, Joe Purdy, Sufjan Stevens and Calexico. I have a hunch that Purkiss might have listened also to “70s folkie Shawn Phillips (who, incidentally, now lives in South Africa) and the majestic Patty Griffin. I wrote about a Purkiss gig I saw in July 2007 (
The same year, the lovely Josie Field had a radio hit (singles aren”t widely sold in SA, so charts are based on radio airplay) with this excellent song. I”m waiting for Natalie Imbruglia or somebody like that to cover it. Her debut album apparently sold 7,000 copies, which in her genre in South Africa is a very respectable number. With figures like that, I don”t know why anyone with Field”s obvious talent would bother to release albums in South Africa. (
A real South African classic from 1986 which I think had some influence on the anti-apartheid struggle by way of conscientising young white South Africans. The song is about apartheid-era president PW Botha’s antics and features the strains of the then-banned struggle hymn Nkosi Sikelel” iAfrica. Strangely the state-owned radio stations played Weeping prodigiously. Songs had been banned for much less (a year previously, all Stevie Wonder music was banned from the airwaves after the singer dedicated his Grammy to Nelson Mandela).
Juluka”s frontman Johnny Clegg “” the “White Zulu” “” did a great deal for the struggle by integrating himself into Zulu culture, with sincerity and respect for Zulu culture. His groups, first Juluka and then Savuka, where multi-racial at a time when that was virtually unheard of. I have seen many concerts by Clegg”s groups, including a fantastic one in London”s Kentish Town & Country Club. Invariably, these were incredibly energetic. As a live performer, Clegg was not far behind Springsteen. The highlight always 1981″s Impi, which would send the crowd wild, especially when Clegg did those high-kicking, floor-board shattering Zulu wardance moves.
Recently a contestant in South Africa”s Idols show was favourably compared to the late Brenda Fassie. Such compliments are not offered lightly, not by sensible people. Fassie was a superstar, throughout Africa. People have compared her to Madonna (minus Fassie”s drug abuse, violence, lapses into madness, financial difficulties, lesbian affairs, and premature death). The comparison flatters Madonna. Fassie was a superstar but yet still one with the people, of the people. She showed that talent and charisma trumps vacant beauty. Vuli Ndlela was Fassie”s huge dance hit from 1998, an infectious number that by force of sheer energy compensates for some regrettable production values.
Despite rumours of an impending break-up, Freshlygrounds remain South Africa”s most popular group. The multi-ethnic group transcends boundaries of race and genre. The group”s first hit, 2002″s Castles In The Sky, is a good example of veering between genres. This remixed version received the airplay; the original is a slightly African-inflected pop song which Everything But The Girl might have sung. The superior remix adds to it a House feel which turns the song into a slow-burning dance track. (
In 1984, artist and author of children”s books Niki Daly had one of the more bizarre South African hits with this song, doubtless inspired by the likes of Bowie, Roxy Music, Gary Numan and Thomas Dolby. A great slice of mid-80s new wave. Like so much of great South African songs, it made no impression on the international charts. At least one of his books, Not So Fast, Songololo, is a children”s book classic. Many of the Capetonian”s books published in the 1980s promoted interracial relations, thereby helping to instil a mindset among those who were then children (and are now young adults) that colour ought not be a social barrier. 
I have posted this before, and it proved a very popular song. When the link went dead, I received a few requests to please re-upload it. Memories, by a Cape Town-based songwriter of folk and gospel material, scored a lovely
offer extraordinary and tough-to-find material. I am grateful for their existence and the efforts made. Other blogs offer commentary and/or reviews, and that extra input is the difference between a good take-away and a good eatery. The winner then is like a restaurant run by a TV chef (but not that hateful Ramsey guy). It goes the extra mile of offering highly educational mixes with commentary, often presented in form of a series. Almost like a university course.
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