Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Songs For A Tuesday Morning: It's All I Want To Do So Won't You Dance

Of all the Australiennes I adore, I've been in love with this little lady the longest:

(And I use the word "little" literally--Kylie is what, five-feet-nothing in her bare feet, and probably four-eleven in a bathing cap.)

She came out with a new album this year (Aphrodite; another tiny lass--four-feet-nine in her bare clam shell, according to Hesiod) and lately I've been listening a lot to the first track, "All The Lovers." But not the actual track on the album, which is below.

All The Lovers (Original)

It's okay, but not great. I mean, it's a serviceable dance number with a breathy vocal that floats above a lot of synth that completely overpowers a barely-heard piano that is actually playing something interesting, musically. (The piano in this song is the dance version of the lute in PDQ Bach's Sinfonia Concertante, where he says: "It's a very nice lute. We hope you enjoy it. Think of it while you're listening to the bagpipes.") But this version of the song doesn't lift you up, and it certainly doesn't take you higher (higher) (higher) (higher). It's too polite, almost. What it needs, frankly, is a touch of Phil Spector melodrama. Which is gets in spades in this remix:

All The Lovers (Matty Boy Remix)

Now this is a version that can get your tired ass up off a 3AM bar stool and back onto the dance floor. It has weight, and it does what a good remix should always do: deliver the pleasure of the original in a booty-shaking package. This is the version I listen to when I want to spin around the living room and try not to knock over the lamps. But it's still not the version I listen to most. That, oddly enough, would be this one:

All The Lovers (Acoustic)

This version, because it's simple and quiet, puts the vocals up front and lets Kylie do something you don't see pop singers do that much--quietly and deliberately seduce the living hell out of you. In this version, if you don't want to dance when she asks you to dance, or find yourself breathing when she tells you to breathe, then you should check your pulse. It's sexier than the other two because it's intimate, and it's better than the other two because it's treated like a song, and not an excuse to twirl around the living room knocking over lamps.

Plus: you get to hear the piano. (And the cello!)

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