Donovan Song Quotes

He leans over and puts the radio on. It’s Jason Donovan’s ‘Sealed With A Kiss’. ‘I love the music they play up here in the sticks,’ I say ‘We’re in Oxfordshire, darling. Not Far East Kentucky,’ replies Jake ‘When I first heard this song, I thought it was about sea eels,’ I say. ‘Because it’s about summer,which means swimming, and I’d just found out that sea eels even existed, and it seemed to make sense.’ ‘Sea eeled with a kiss?’ repeats Jake

Softley’s first album, Songs for Swingin’ Survivors (Columbia), produced by Donovan’s management team of Peter Eden and Geoff Stephens, is one of the three great solo folk albums released in Britain in 1965, alongside Bert Jansch’s second, It Don’t Bother Me, and John Renbourn.

Taylor grinned. “Well, I’ve been giving these things a lot of thought—” “—You really have been busy these past twelve hours—” “—and I feel as though I’ve peaked in the large firm environment. After all, there’s only so much you can learn in one place—” “—I’m pretty sure that’s a line from a song—” “—and so I was thinking that maybe I should start my own law firm.” With this having been declared, they both fell silent. After a long moment, Jason spoke first. “I think that’s a great idea.” Taylor jumped off the couch excitedly. “I know! I can see it now—Taylor Donovan and Associates. That has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” Jason gave her the strangest look. “Don’t you mean Taylor Andrews and Associates?” Taylor laughed as if this was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. She stopped abruptly when she saw Jason’s serious expression. “Ohh . . . I see our first fight as a married couple is going to be a big one.

April 1965, then, marked the beginning of a new epoch for the new breed of singer-songwriters in Britain. As well as Collins and Graham’s Folk Roots, New Routes, in that year there appeared Donovan’s What’s Bin Did and What’s Bin Hid and Fairytale; John Renbourn’s self-titled first album; Mick Softley’s Songs for Swingin’ Survivors; Martin Carthy, a collection of folk songs with violinist Dave Swarbrick; Jackson C. Frank’s Jackson C. Frank; and Bert Jansch, the debut by the fastest-rising star of them all. Jansch, who was born

Let’s fucking go. In the ring, squared off with my opponent, I hear a flute. I think I’m hearing “Season of the Witch” by Donovan. I get briefly enraged as I wonder if they’re playing house music and we’ve gone to commercial break but the song quickly fades, and the shit is on. After the match, holding the IWGP U.S. belt high, I realize I’m hearing “Wild Thing” by the Troggs. I assume that’s my music now. That’s pretty cool. I feel touched that Tony knows me well enough to know I would think it was cool. He was confident that he could surprise me with it and I wouldn’t flip out.

More than any other individual rapper, Dr. Dre deserves recognition for his role in helping turn the page on the crack epidemic. As a member of N.W.A. and producer for the group, he helped articulate the conditions of life in the ghetto on songs like “Dopeman,” “Fuck tha Police,” and “Gangsta Gangsta.” Then in 1992, three years after leaving N.W.A., Dr. Dre dropped his magnum opus, The Chronic. The album is ranked by many, including Vibe, Spin, and Rolling Stone, as one of the greatest albums of all time.

Despite all the solo vocals, each using the others as a back-up group, the White Album still sounds haunted by memories of friendship—that “dreamlike state” they could still zoom into hearing each other sing. They translated Rishikesh into their own style of English pagan pastoral—so many talking animals, so many changes in the weather. One of my favorite British songwriters, Luke Haines from the Auteurs and Black Box Recorder, once told me in an interview that his band was making “our Wicker Man album.” He was miffed I had no idea what he meant. “You can’t understand British bands without seeing The Wicker Man. Every British band makes its Wicker Man album.” So I rented the classic 1973 Hammer horror film, and had creepy dreams about rabbits for months, but he’s right, and the White Album is the Beatles’ Wicker Man album five years before The Wicker Man, a rustic retreat where nature seems dark and depraved in a primal English sing-cuckoo way. They also spruced up their acoustic guitar chops in India, learning folkie fingerpicking techniques from fellow pilgrim Donovan, giving the songs some kind of ancient mystic chill.

How did your research go?” “Oh, that.” Alejandro waved a hand. “The people recover from the fit after a few minutes of being removed from the environment. And they’re perfectly fine afterwards. I’m assuming that means that if they hear the same song or see the same movie again it has no effect.” “Hmm,” Max said. Crystal looked at him. “What?” Max asked. “You said ‘hmm’.” Alejandro snorted. “You’ll get used to him saying ‘hmm’. He does it to sound wise.” “The way I designed the beat structures,” Max said, ignoring Alejandro. “People are supposed to be affected but not know it. The more I think about it, the more certain I am that these fits are because I did not complete my work and had only tested it on a limited number of people.” Alejandro rolled his eyes. “Can I continue to give my feedback or do you want to bore us all about your scientific research?” “Your feedback is about my research.” “No it’s about the effects of your research, which, might I add, was highly unethical and inimical.” “He just said inimical,” Max said, clapping. “He knows a word that’s more than two syllables.” “Unethical is more than two syllables, too,” Alejandro retorted. “Two words!” Max snorted. “He’s a genius.” “Going back to my findings,” Alejandro said, glaring at Max, and then turning to Crystal. “I don’t trust them. I don’t trust anything I read in the papers or see in the media. Especially when it’s something related to the SOT. Luke is too powerful. The truth about these fits will never be reported. If we want to know what’s really going on, we will have to go out and find out for ourselves.” “Agreed,” Crystal said slowly. “He actually sounded pretty intelligent then,” Max whispered to Donovan. “I propose that—” “He has a proposal!” Max said. Alejandro gave Max a dismissive look. “Those with brains alone always envy and persecute those possessing both beauty and brains.” Crystal held back a snort of laughter. Even Donovan looked amused despite the deep frown of strain on his forehead. Juda’s expression didn’t change. Max glowered at Alejandro. “Why would a man refer to himself as beautiful?

I peered down the alleyways and into the darkest corners. That Donovan song, ‘Try and Catch the Wind’, kept playing over-and-over in my head. The odor of dried fish filled the air. I breathed in deeply and smiled. I felt that God, evil, and even death were all very near, but I wasn’t afraid. I didn’t want to miss a single moment.