Look around his site and....... CHOOSE THE RONNIE YOU WANT!....

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Ronnie Golden sings "Drinking At Home" in New York City

A selection of songs from the past to the present, soon to be expanded on.

You'll work out how to use it...

The City Club

1.

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GLOOMY SUNDAY by Mel Torme

“Little white flowers will never awaken you, not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you.”

Classic piece of aural doom ‘n’ gloom from the man hailed as “The Velvet Fog” (or as The Guardian called him:“The Velvet FROG.”)  Beautifully, longingly exquisite evocation of the need to depart this joyless life and join your deceased love in eternal bliss. Recorded by many - amongst them Billie Holiday – but the end was always changed to “and-then-I-woke-up-and-you-were-there” cop-out scenario so try and seek out Mel for the best and bleakest denouement. Banned for several decades because twenty-five vulnerable British souls took it all a little too close to heart and jumped. Lightweights.

(Tall buildings and hard pavements)

 

2. SOMBRE DIMANCHE by Damia

Same ditty in original French by doomed chanteuse with Russian choir in tow from 1936. Makes the Torme version look like “Shaduppa You Face.” Une belle tristesse.

(Same method as above)

 

3. IS THAT ALL THERE IS? By Peggy Lee

The ultimate funeral song, written by Jerry Lieber and Mike Stoller, for anyone who knows that “My Way” is a crap way of looking back on your life: “Regrets? I’ve had a few...” I love Peggy Lee. I read that she took a whole year before recording this because she knew immediately that here was a very special piece of writing and she needed to feel ready before committing it to vinyl so that she could totally inhabit the song.

Darius, read it and weep.

(Pneumonia brought on by rainy perambulations in the early hours)

 

4. RIVER’S INVITATION by Percy Mayfield

Possesses the big three ingredients for any self-respecting wrist-slasher: water, sex and death. The greatest thing to come out of Webster, Louisiana and one of the most discriminating and emotionally-intelligent singer/writers who ever worked in the Blues idiom. You don’ agree wit me ‘n’ you can hit the road, Jack, and doncha come back no more.  

(Death by drowning, of course)

 

5. THE NIGHT WE CALLED IT A DAY by Chet Baker

From ’57 session not released until a year or two ago and recorded with just nylon-strung acoustic guitar and double bass.

“I heard the song of the spheres like a minor lament in my ears” I misheard as “like a miner lamenting my years.”

(Chet chose the high window method)

 

6. THE HOUSE IS HAUNTED (BY THE ECHO OF YOUR LAST GOODBYE)

by Mel Torme

One more from the sublime Marty Paitch-arranged “Torme” album. A song I sing to myself more than is probably healthy. Title says it all.

(Absynth makes the heart beat slower)

 

7. I’M A FOOL TO WANT YOU by Billie Holiday

The only song I’ve found with Sinatra credited as co-writer. His version from late 50s is terrific as is Ketty Lester’s on b-side of seminal “Love Letters” 45, but Ms. Holiday’s death rattle croak from her later period is the most likely to have you running for the open razor.

(Sleeping pills)

 

8.FAMOUS BLUE RAINCOAT by Jennifer Warnes

Originally, of course, sung by composer ‘Larfin’ Lenny’ Cohen and, following my involvement with Arthur Smith’s wonderful interpretation, probably my favourite in the Cohen canon but this profits from a clear and perfectly-rounded vocal performance.

(Heroin OD, maybe.)

 

9. GOODBYE by Frank Sinatra

From his best bleeding-heart ballads album “Frank Sinatra Sings For Only The Lonely.” Twenty years ago I would iron gallons of salty tears into unsuspecting shirts while this elegy to Ava Gardner commandeered my turntable.

(Starvation through glorious self-disgust)

 

10. THE MAN WHO CAN’T LOVE ANYMORE by Me

Yes. Shameless self-promotion but…. fuck me it’s good. An honest-as-possible overview of midlife inability to commit and acceptance that maybe – just maybe – ‘love’ is a finite concept.

(Alcohol overkill leading to total renal collapse)

 

Bubbling under……

 

HOW YA GONNA KEEP ‘EM DOWN ON THE FARM by Max Bygraves

From the “Discolongamax” album from ’79. Need I say more?

(Suffocating on your own vomit)