song of the day 6. frazey ford

frazey ford

That time of night again. Another grey day survived, no judos. Time for one final trawl through the Facebook feed.

Click on this, just by chance. Female, I dig female. Female I ain’t heard of, even better. Damn, so unrestrained. So unrestrained, so understanding of the power of soul music and the necessity to hold the emotion in check, just let the trace of it through incrementally. Fun, easy. Sad. This is Queensland as it has fixated itself upon my mind. Sunny and pissed-off and not giving a damn. Of course QLD ain’t nothing like that, least not The Gap, that cares way too much about appearance but still not mealy-mouthed like Croydon here. More open, welcoming. But damn, listen to the pissed-off tingle in her voice, the way she slips and scourges. Watch her dancing in the street, so herself. So herself. All the single ladies, all the married ladies, all the ladies. How can I never have encountered Frazey Ford before? Such a voice. Such a grasp of what makes music great. Thus is what half the mums down Stamford Park Infant School, every morning, sound like, in their heads, outside their heads if they only gave it a chance. Half us gents too, ‘cept it ain’t about that. Not here. We already have our codes and tropes, our ways of expression that are never mistaken, never laughed at, well maybe sometimes. Even the cover shot features a grey sky, storm brooding. Righteous. Beautiful. Brooding. This is Aretha slamming down your change on the counter, refusing to take any more of your shit, indeed so past the idea of taking your shit the circumstance ain’t even in the equation. I ain’t up for reverence of the past for its own sake: move on. You gotta move on. This moves on, comes alive. The other day, the cat across the street got mown down just 20 seconds after I picked up the kid across the street. So commonplace, so sad, so nothing, so everything. Frazey Ford moves on. Damn straight.

Frazey Ford moves on, and she’s done.

[and so damn sexy]

There are advantages to having music critics in your Facebook feed sometimes.

Guess I ain’t going to bed any time soon.

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