Countdown No 11: EBTG – The Only Living Boy in New York
Forget your Alex Ferguson autobio, the self-story of the year is Tracey Thorm’s Bedsit Disco Queen. (Subtitled: How I grew up and tried to be a pop star). Looking back at the 80s was not for me the memories of yuppies and battling miners, but deep meaningful chats in to the early hours to the strains of Everything But The Girls’s Each and Every One.
So no cheesy memories of bonding with Cantona and Giggs on the training ground. Instead of surreal encounters at the school gate.
“I remember when the kids were very small standing outside school…waiting for the girls to come out. I was with a group of mums, talking about teachers and playdates and school dinners, when suddenly a huge, gleaming Range Rover with black-tinted windows slowed as it is neared us and then pulled over to the side of the road. The window whirred down and a voice called out, “Tracey! Tracey! Hi, how are you?” In unison, all heads turned towards the car and the familar face that leaned out, the stubble and the sunglasses confirming the almost unbelievable fact that, yes, it was George Michael!”
Of inappropriate childbirth soundtrack – as someone with the same priorities if not experiences as me, Tracey’s main recollection of childbirth is the regret she had at not choosing the background music for the birth of her twins. She doesn’t say what she would have chosen, and we can but speculate what is appropriate for the queen of trip hop but it certainly would not have been ‘Where Do You Go To My Lovely?’ by Peter Sarstedt
Of great songs.
And my favourite today will be The Only Living Boy in New York.
Of beautiful boy and girl harmonies.