I haven't been an angel

On a rather different note from what I tend to write about here, and with no particular relation to anything other than the accidents of listening to music while cooking:



Listening to the 5 Royales tonight, the alarmingly good North Carolina Apollo Records R & B group from the early '50s. This song stuck out for being the laying bare, in swinging glory, of the basic logic of relationships gone bad. All pop songs, even in their retracing of shit clichés, remain uniquely capable of forcing that weird disjunction between the sound and content of it. In this case, the fundamental truth of those moments when it boils down to an economy of tears, and some tired recognition of, hell, if that's what you want... , but coupled with cooing ooo's and blaring horns. Sublime.

Please tell me, please, baby tell me,
How I can make up with you?
If there's anything to keep you
That I surely, surely will do
Will I have to cry some more
Will I have to cry some more
Yes, I'll cry some more
Will I have to cry some more
I am handing you no line
Please, try me one more time