“She was a great writer, with warmth and humour and a keen ear and eye for humans and their foibles,” says Jem Finer of the Pogues, who wrote the music for the timeless ‘Fairytale of New York,’ on which MacColl duetted with Shane MacGowan. “No bullshit or pretensions or posturing. A great singer and a genius with harmony.” (Michael Hann via The Guardian, “Kirsty MacColl: the great British songwriter who never got her due.”
The lede of the Guardian article echoes those kudos while revealing the gap between Kirsty’s undeniable talent and her inconsistent chart performance. “She wrote incisive lyrics, sang exquisite harmonies, and graced arguably the greatest Christmas single ever. Yet Kirsty MacColl has somehow been erased from the story of British pop.” Hann provided a generally credible explanation for Kirsty’s erasure:
MacColl’s was the model of a stop-start career. She suffered from stage fright, which discouraged her from touring for much of her career. “I said to her: ‘If you get so worried, Kirsty, why don’t you go and do something else?'” remembers her mother, the dancer and choreographer Jean Newlove. “Her eyes filled with tears and she said, ‘But I love this. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.'”
She also insisted on making her own decisions – something she determined to do from an early age, her mother says – consistently refusing to have her career directed by the men of the record industry. So she switched between labels, never building up the momentum to lift her unassailably into the public consciousness. “She didn’t suffer fools,” says her ex-husband Steve Lillywhite, who produced two of her albums, “and to be honest, to make it in the business – especially if you’re a woman – you have to suffer fools.”
The reference to label-switching may lead some to assume that Kirsty was something of a prima donna, but when you consider the facts, I think any musician would have responded to the combination of label incompetence and mistreatment in the same way, regardless of gender. She signed with Stiff Records in 1979, and the debut single “They Don’t Know” received plenty of airplay, but the distributors went on strike, and only a few copies made it into the record stores. Sensing that they didn’t have their shit together, Kirsty left Stiff and signed with Polydor in 1981, but despite recording the top 20 hit “There’s a Guy Works Down the Chip Shop Swears He’s Elvis” and a critically-acclaimed album (Desperate Character), Polydor dropped her just as she had finished recording the follow-up album (eventually released posthumously in 2023). Reluctantly returning to Stiff, Kirsty managed to score a top 10 hit with a cover of Billy Bragg’s “A New England” right before the company went belly up. Meanwhile, Tracey Ullman recorded “They Don’t Know” (with Kirsty graciously adding background vocals), and the song previously lost due to a labor dispute became a monster hit for Ullman in both the U.S. and the U.K. Because no other label stepped up to buy her defunct contract from Stiff, Kirsty was unable to record or release any new material under her name for three years. Around that time, Kirsty shared her strategy regarding the music business with the U.K. press (summarized in her bio on encyclopedia.com):
“My attitude to the music business now is that I’ve got to make what I’ve got to make, regardless,” she stated in Pulse! “I will try and sell it, try to promote it, but I’m not gonna go to a gym and get anorexia and a blonde wig just so the company can sell a few more copies to people who are so stupid they only want to buy things by air-brushed photographs.” Rather, MacColl has created an intelligent adult woman’s pop persona and stuck to it. “I started in music young and naïve and malleable,” MacColl insisted in a Request interview, “and the older I get, the more determined I become not to compromise. Getting older is supposed to make you mellower, but I get more militant every day.”
Kirsty spent those three years in the wilderness as a backing vocalist for several artists who employed then-husband Steve Lillywhite to produce their albums, including the Stones, Robert Plant, the Smiths, Talking Heads, Simple Minds, and, most notably, the Pogues. Her unforgettable performance in a duet with Shane MacGowan on “Fairytale in New York” brought her into the limelight, and Kirsty further strengthened her reputation by going on tour with the Pogues, an experience that helped to ease her stage fright. The contract mess was resolved shortly thereafter, and Kirsty approached her next album as a woman determined to set the record straight:
“It wasn’t until 1989 that MacColl recorded her next album, Kite, for the Virgin label; Lillywhite served as producer, while guitarist Johnny Marr—best known for his work with Morrissey’s band The Smiths—contributed to several tracks. Consisting mostly of original songs and crystallizing her unique blend of bright melody and dark sophistication, the album was partly intended to prove a point. “I felt I had to prove that I wasn’t this bimbo girl-next-door I’d been portrayed as,” she confided in a Melody Maker interview. “That had been hanging around my neck like a fucking albatross for so long, and I wanted to make the point that, yes, I can write a fucking song, pal!” (ibid, encyclopedia.com)
And boy, could she fucking ever.
*****
Kirsty MacColl survived the difficulties she faced during her struggles in the music business because she learned at a very early age that life is a series of challenges and the best way to deal with adversity is to believe in oneself and develop a deep well of resilience. She was cursed with severe asthma during her childhood and was unable to attend school for several years. Her choreographer mother home-schooled her, and proved to be an exceptionally gifted teacher: “She sat English language and literature exams two years early; learned the oboe and violin while falling in love with pop records in her mother’s snug.” (The Quietus) Though she was the daughter of the famed folk singer Ewan MacColl, he had left her mother for another woman before Kristy was born and had little influence on her musical development.
I doubt that her father would have approved of the musicians Kirsty identified as influencers, as he despised all forms of pop music. In an interview with Jools Holland cited on the World Socialist Website, Kirsty explained that she started getting into music when she was about four years old. “She recalled listening to a copy of the Beach Boys’ ‘Good Vibrations’ that her brother had bought: ‘I played it so much he just said ‘Have it.’ I was allowed to play it, and I played it incessantly for about twelve hours a day, working out all the different parts and harmonies.” She was also influenced by music as varied as Frank Zappa, the Beatles, the Kinks, the Shangri-Las, and David Bowie, as well as Latin and classical music, Fauré’s Requiem being her favourite. Growing up in the 1960s and 70s, the album that triggered her into thinking she should have a go herself was Harvest by Neil Young.” All of those non-classical artists expanded the range of pop music beyond the tried-and-true, and Kirsty was determined to follow in their footsteps. In addition to her harmonic sensibilities and distinctive vocal talent, Kristy was a superb wordsmith who believed that pop lyrics could carry meaningful messages without losing their accessibility to the masses:
“There’s two ends to pop,” she says. “There’s one end of it which is a bit like folk music where you’ve got stories and things happen. That’s more doing the job that folk did, spreading messages and getting over political ideas, or what have you. Then there’s the other end of pop music, which is all kind of showbiz, which has nothing to say in the songs, but it might be very entertaining, good fun to get up and bop to for three minutes, but it hasn’t really got any message whatsoever. That’s more like old music hall stuff.”
And you fall into the first category?
“Yeah. I’m not into it for the showbiz. I’m into writing songs.”
The songs on Kite are so strong that Kirsty might have gotten away with recording them with an acoustic guitar, but that was not her style. Kristy had no official band at the time, so Steve Lillywhite called in a whole lot of favors and brought in twenty-six highly reputable musicians skilled in a variety of instrumentation and familiar with diverse music traditions (mainly rock, pop, jazz, classical and R&B). Kirsty joined the band on three tracks with acoustic guitar, electric guitar, bass, lap steel guitar, autoharp and percussion, but as Johnny Marr noted, her priorities lay elsewhere: “She wasn’t a good musician technically. She wasn’t interested in mastering an instrument, but she was great at putting chords together. Her expertise was melody, lyrics and harmony. She’s one of England’s greatest ever pop lyricists, she believed her songs should be almost like mini-novels, and she was a fucking Jedi at harmony.”
*****
All songs written by Kirsty MacColl except where indicated.
“Innocence” (MacColl-Glenister): The album begins with a combination of jangly and twanging guitars that permeate the piece with British-Invasion-Meets-Country playfulness, but this is one of those Kirsty songs that is “cleverly couched in falsely lighthearted music, and therefore they pack a more devastating punch.” (Eric McClary, Reno Gazette-Journal) Kirsty strengthens the misdirection by singing the light and catchy melody and luscious harmonies in a tone of “whatever,” signaling to her yet-to-be-identified long-distance companion that breaking up won’t be hard to do.
It wouldn’t take a long time
To explain what lies between us
And it wouldn’t take a genius
To work out what the scene isIt might just take a pilot
To give you a natural high
But you’re sending off those bottle tops
For your free peace of mindAnd are you just waving or drowning?
It’s so hard to tell when you’re so far away
All we know at this point is that her friend or soon-to-be ex properly disposes of his bottle caps to give those watching the impression of a good citizen and that he might be in some kind of trouble. Kirsty extends the suspense in the chorus but gives us a few more clues as to what the hell is going on:
Oh innocence has passed you by
A long long time ago
I was the fly upon your wall
And I saw what you know
Your pornographic priestess left you for another guy
You frighten little children and you always wonder why
Always wonder why
I love the “eee-yeah” that Kirsty appends to the final “why” in every rendition of the chorus, indicating “yep, that’s the way you are, and it should have come as no surprise.” I also admire her repurposing of the “pornographic priestess” of “I Am the Walrus,” who could be a bimbo who prefers to play the field, a goldigger who leaves him for a larger bank account, or a porn star who finds his performance lacking. Children (and dogs) can sense people who don’t have their shit together in seconds, and his inability to understand why children hide behind their mommies when he’s around tells us he has the emotional intelligence of a turd.
The character’s identity is clarified in the next verse, where we learn that Mr. Dickhead has achieved a modicum of fame and fortune in “the land of Milk and Honey,” likely the States, and even more likely in and around La-La-Land.
The mercury is rising
And it’s not all that surprising
In the land of milk and honey
Where you make ‘Big Money’And it always keeps the rain off
And it always keeps you dry
But back home the people hate you
And you never did know why
I suppose Kirsty could have presented the opening line as “The temperature is rising,” but like Flaubert, she always searched for le mot juste. Mercury is the perfect word, for in addition to its metaphoric meaning that he’s riding a hot streak, the use of “mercury” reminds us that fame is often mercurial, and while he might be this month’s shiny new thing, it’s more likely he’ll wind up a flash in the pan. Though Kirsty does not specifically identify the man’s line of work, the music business is the most likely candidate, given Kirsty’s experiences with record company bullshit. The phrase “Big Money” garners the most attention due to the unexpected and delightful vocal backing of Kristy’s two sons, Jamie and Louis. Putting the children to work was an inspired choice, as it hints that even children could see through the fake persona our budding star is attempting to create in his quest for fame and fortune. It’s also obvious that the people back home hate him for selling out, and his blindness regarding their rejection confirms his status as a narcissist who can’t figure out why they don’t admire him for making lots of dough. He probably thinks riches should earn him due respect, but only stupid people who wish they were rich admire the rich. Real people admire authenticity, of which he has none.
Kirsty then proceeds to fuck with this guy’s head by playing the dumb broad, offering to tell him why the people hate him in exchange for “fifty thousand lire for my thoughts.” Shit, even I knew that the Italian lira was virtually worthless when I was a kid; in this case, her attempt at extortion adds up to about forty bucks. His reaction is not mentioned in the song, but he probably had a good laugh at her innocence—the kind of innocence he lost by selling his soul to Mammon. In the reprise of the chorus, Kirsty provides us with another reason why the folks back home can’t stand him: “The supermarket checkout girl/Once smacked you in the eye.” Those lines tell us that he thought he was better than anyone else, even before he entered the spotlight: once a dick, always a dick. We also learn that none of his old pals want to dine with him, likely because the conversation would center around his highly inflated ego.
Kirsty lets it rip in the bridge during a face-to-face encounter with her long-lost (in many ways) ex-partner:
It would take a gunshot
Just to clear your head a while
And after all this time
How can you stand there
Look at me and smile?
An instrumental passage follows to allow us to clear our heads and take in that powerful metaphor for brain-cleansing. In addition to the jangling guitar and Kirsty’s wordless vocalizations, a sextet of violins enters the soundscape, shoring up the old-time country aspect of the song. After an echo-packed wordless vocal crescendo of exceptional beauty, Kirsty sings a transitional verse before closing with a partially modified chorus that ends with these poignant lines:
Degeneration suits you, now I’m going home to cry
You won’t be seeing me again
But you’ll always wonder why
Always wonder why
It seems he was a very different person before his thirst for fame consumed him, and way back when, she truly cared about the guy. Her mourning is understandable, and because any form of re-connection is out of the question, there’s no way in hell the two could come to a mutual understanding that might have softened the blow.
“Innocence” confirms Johnny Marr’s assessment regarding Kirsty’s harmonic talents and her ability to build exceptionally strong chord patterns that allow for the right amount of melodic movement. The verses follow a simple back and forth between G and G7 with a C on the third line; the transitional verses are set to a more complex sequence of Bb/Am/Bb/D#; the chorus involves a key change to C major and a pattern of F/Bb/Dm/C repeated three times and ending with a shift from Dm to C and then to the original root chord of G major. The bridge involves two simple chords (Bb and C) to help listeners focus on the “letting him have it” lyrics, and the instrumental passage follows the pattern in the chorus, restating the main theme. Kudos to the folks who manage kirstymaccoll.com for providing lyrics and accurate chord patterns, SOMETHING THAT EVERY MUSICIAN’S WEBSITE SHOULD PROVIDE.
Before I go, I should mention that three different guitarists appear on the song. Though I have no idea who plays what and when, I’m fairly certain that the bulk of the work was given to co-writer Pete Glenister, who played both electric and acoustic guitar on the piece.
“Free World“: Kirsty left no doubt about the “inspiration” for this song:
Speaking to the Evening Times in 1989, MacColl said of the song: “It’s really about greed. But it’s all part of the great divide between North and South. This Government has probably done more than any other to worsen it.” She added in an interview with New Musical Express: “‘Free World’ is very direct and simple; hopefully it’ll make people think a bit. The subject matter is Thatcherite Britain – you know, grab whatever you can and sod the little guy. That’s a fashionable way of looking at things, and I don’t agree with it.”
The song opens in a fury of guitars played at high speed, the modern equivalent of raising the alarm. Kirsty’s opening thrust addressed Conservative cuts to education and health care.
I thought of you when they closed down the school
And the hospital too
Did they think that you were better?
They were wrong
You had so many friends
They all left you in the end
‘Cause they couldn’t take the patter
According to a report prepared by McGill University, “Grants to universities had been directly and severely curtailed. This had resulted in a reduction in the number of teachers in schools and the closing of teacher training colleges, and forced ‘early retirement’ and reduction of research funding for universities. University budgets have been reduced by 20%, and 6000 university teachers ‘released.” In the field of health care, the Tories published a white paper titled “Working for Patients” that claimed “The National Health Service will continue to be available to all regardless of income, and to be financed mainly out of general taxation.” Yeah, right. “While that is technically true, the ostensibly stagnant level of funding for hospitals and capital investments put poorer people at a disadvantage when compared to the 14% middle and upper class, who can afford to enjoy private medicine through private insurance. Local budgeting also meant constant rationing due to demographic mobility, leading to the resources being never enough to cater to all medical needs in a designated area. Waiting lists were also at a record long under the Conservatives, effectively creating a two-tier system where the poorer you are, the more you suffer.” The patient referred to in the verse had little chance of getting better, and visitors “couldn’t take the patter” of doctors and nurses trying to put on a happy face when they were severely understaffed.
In the chorus, Kirsty emphasizes the need for the lower and middle classes to stick together in the fake free world of the Thatcherites. The phrase “you’ve got to walk into the water” translates into “facing difficult circumstances that would normally overwhelm you, such as financial, emotional, or life crises.”
And I’ll see you baby when the clans rise again
Women and men united by a struggle
Going down
You’ve got to walk into the water
With your sister and your daughter
In this free world
In the next verse, Kirsty engages with the enemy, pointing out the difference between Tory rhetoric and reality.
If I wore your shades could I share your point of view?
Could I make you feel better?
Paint a picture, write a letter?
Well I know what you’re saying
But I see the things you do
And it’s much too dangerous
To get closer to you
Kirsty varies the language in subsequent renditions of the chorus to expand on the impact of trickle-down economics while envisioning a world where everyone has an equal chance of improving their circumstances. The first variation portends the debt that will pile up as those left out of the rising tide resort to credit cards to pay the bills: “Going down/With a pocket full of plastic/Like a dollar on elastic.” Before the next modification, she adds a hanging line to assure her listeners that she’s on their side: “I wouldn’t tell you if I didn’t care.” She follows that promise with a picture of a more equal, kinder world: “Women and men united by the struggle/And the ghettoes are full of Mercedes Benz/And you’d never hurt a friend/Who wouldn’t tell you.”
True friends tell the truth, and Kristy warns her listeners that things are likely to get worse before they get better. She encourages them to avoid giving in to despair and take the bull by the fucking horns:
It’s cold and it’s going to get colder
You may not get much older
You’re much too scared of living
And to die is a reliable exit
So you push it and you test it
With Thunderbird and RivinI’ll see you baby when the clans rise again
Women and men united by the struggle
In this free world baby
Got to take it got to grab it
Got to get it up and shag it
In this free world
The final modification is essentially a warning of what might happen if people don’t shag it: “Going down/You’ve got to get into the water/Like a lamb goes to the slaughter/In this free world baby.” She ends the piece by repeating her promise of solidarity: “I wouldn’t tell you if I didn’t care.”
In an interview on her official website, Kirsty told James Bennett that “I was very proud of that song and really glad that it became the first single.” She had every reason to be proud of writing one of the best protest songs published in the 1980’s, and what makes it so special is that she genuinely cared about the people impacted by policies that make the rich richer and the poor fucked.
“Mother’s Ruin” (MacColl-Glenister): This terribly sad but true “mini-novel” is set to a hauntingly beautiful guitar duet involving Johnny Marr and Pete Glenister, backed by a perfectly languid performance on the kit by David Palmer. In the opening verse, Kirsty sets the scene with references to 18th and 19th-century English history:
“Mother’s ruin”
She said to herself
“I’m just screwing my own mental health”
But Fridays and Saturdays
She walks down those alleyways
A latter day lady of the lamp
“Mother’s Ruin” refers to the “Gin Craze” of the mid-18th Century, when gin was cheap and plentiful. The phenomenon led to widespread alcoholism among men and women: “As more women became hooked on gin between 1720 and 1757, this led to the mistreatment of their children and a rise in prostitution. Women became more addicted to gin than their male counterparts—gaining the juniper-based spirit the nickname ‘Mother’s Ruin’.” The “lady of the lamp” is both a reference to Florence Nightingale, the iconic nurse and healer, and the ladies who walked the streets offering sexual ministrations to gentlemen who could afford it. It appears that the narrator also offers in-home services:
How you doing?
You ain’t from round here
Won’t you come in?
I’m really not scared
‘Cause Fridays and Saturdays
I still do it anyways
And anything is better than out there
When the gentleman has finished his business, the lady reveals that she suffers from deep depression and utter hopelessness:
Now don’t wake me up again
Don’t let me feel anything
But when you go
Let me dream that I go with you
So I won’t cry myself dry anymore
It seems there was once a man in her life whom she supplied with children, but it appears that the gin drove away both husband and children:
Mothers ruin
Their own little girls
Keep them dreaming
There’s more to this world
But turn her the other way
And every day’s Father’s day
He stays until there’s nothing left to say
After admitting to her temporary beau that “I can’t take it ’round here any more,” she makes one last request: “Leave the light on and don’t shut the door.” That forlorn hope that he will return to assuage her loneliness is all she can hang on to, and the odds of a return visit are between zero and none. Kirsty’s vocals are gentle and empathetic, sweetened by her always spot-on harmonies.
“Days” (Ray Davies): In the interview mentioned above, James Bennett also asked Kirsty about her approach to cover songs:
Bennett: You don’t seem to have a general approach to how you are doing cover versions. ‘He Thinks I Still Care, for example, is very far away from the George Jones original, while ‘Days’ seems to be pretty close to The Kinks’ original.
“Yeah, it varies. You want to do whatever suits the song best. There are lots of songs that you love and that you might want to do, but you have to choose a song that you can make slightly your own. I think my version of ‘Days’ is a bit slower. I wanted to give it the ABBA treatment. I wanted people to think that it’s a Kirsty MacColl song when they hear it.“
I think her wish came true. Kirsty’s version may be a tad slower, but the arrangement does follow the slow build of the original while offering much more in the way of harmonies and bright guitar arpeggios from Marr. The rhythmic trio of Glenister on acoustic guitar, Mel Gaynor on drums, Guy Pratt on bass never miss a beat, and Kirsty’s lead vocal, harmonies, and vocal fills are an absolute delight. “Days” was the second single released, and climbed to #12 on the U.K. charts.
When I first played the official video, I thought, “Kirsty authorized this? I can’t believe it.” I learned later that she hated the video as well, so I am happy to present you with the official audio-only version.
“No Victims”: This is the first of two songs featuring David Gilmour on guitar, but David also deserves credit for inadvertently coming up with the album’s title.
“MacColl originally wanted to call the album Al Green Was My Valet, as a parody of the 1941 film title How Green Was My Valley, but Virgin Records were not keen on it. She then had the idea of the title Kite after David Gilmour, who played guitar on two tracks, declined payment for his contribution and suggested that a “kite” [slang for cheque] be sent to Armenia instead as a donation towards the relief of the 1988 Armenian earthquake. MacColl told Ira Robbins in 1990, “I thought that was such a nice image—a little bit of hope and optimism rising above a sea of crap.” (Interview with Ira Robbins at rock’s back pages library)
Gilmour’s contribution to this song is a heavily arpeggiated duet with Johnny Marr, set to a mid-tempo waltz rhythm. The almost funereal beat is a perfect fit for the “here we go again” lyrics concerning one of Kirsty’s pet peeves:
A recurring issue for her is women’s strength and independence, something she feels pop music usually fails to address. “There are hundreds of thousands of people out there doing songs where the woman is always a victim and can’t really manage without her man,” MacColl declared in her Mirabella interview with Linden. “I just like sorta seeing it from another angle.” Expanding on the theme for Fred Shuster of the Daily News, MacColl insisted that the helpless female songs she heard growing up “had nothing to do with how women felt—it was a misrepresentation. The myth of ‘If you leave me, I’m nothing,’ is a load of garbage and most women know that. We’re very strong people and not to be treated as second-class citizens.”
The song has an early-60s feel with a soundscape that echoes Phil Spector’s “wall of sound” and Kirsty performing all the parts of a 60’s girl group. The narrative begins with Kirsty on the road, having just freed herself from the clutches of a guy stuck in the old ways when women were subservient to their male masters.
No, I’m no victim to pity and cry for
And you’re not someone I’d lay down and die forI was seeing the world through your eyes
There was not much left not to despise
It’s a shame but it’s true
I started to feel things like you doBut I’m not tearing my heart out for you dear
And when you wake up I won’t even be here
Sod all your funny little ways
They don’t make me laugh these days anymore
This straight-and-to-the-point expression of one of her core values fades into the next track.
“Fifteen Minutes”: Andy Warhol denied ever saying, “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for fifteen minutes,” but because it sounds like something he would have said, it remains part of his legacy. The truth is that the phrase “quart-d’heure de célébrité” was first used in a quote from French novelist Alphonse Daudet in an article published in 1879, so the concept had been around for years before Warhol hit the scene. Personally, I wouldn’t want fifteen seconds of fame, but now that any idiot with a computer can become an “influencer,” I think the moment has arrived (and I wish it would go away). It would appear that Kirsty felt the same way, but she expressed it with more panache:
Seven times in seven days
I’ve sat and wished my life away
I know the greyness comes and goes
But the sun don’t shine
And the snow don’t snowThere’s Suzy-Ann with her tits and curls
Where mediocrity excels
For those vicious boys and their boring girls
You know it makes me sick but it’s a bozo’s worldThen there’s always the cash!
Selling your soul for some trash
Smiling at people that you can not stand
You’re in demand
Your fifteen minutes start now
The arrangement for the lyrical segment is driven by Robbie McIntosh on acoustic guitar, playing a pattern that is reminiscent of Joseph Reinhardt’s 1930’s jazz rhythms when he backed up his more famous brother. Those hints of jazz morph into the real deal when Kirsty wraps up her vocal and a full jazz combo enters the scene with the glorious sounds of trombone, trumpet, tenor sax, and lap steel guitar (the latter played by Kirsty). The full turn to jazz lasts only a minute, but it serves to add more variety to the album’s soundscape.
“Don’t Come the Cowboy with Me, Sonny Jim!” Kirsty claimed that she never paid much attention to country music and the only name she could remember was Hank Williams. Having proven she could have had a career as a jazz singer on “Fifteen Minutes,” I can see her headlining at the Grand Ole Opry based on her performance on this song. The country-rich intro sounds vaguely familiar, like the opening passage of half the country songs ever written, but I’m no expert on the subject and couldn’t identify where I might have heard it.
Cowboys have been symbols of machismo for centuries, and Kirsty takes advantage of that symbolism to argue that “playing cowboy” in sexual intercourse was yesterday’s news in an era when women dared to think of themselves as equals.
Some boys with warm beds and cold, cold hearts
Can make you feel nothing at all
They’ll never remember and they’ll never mind
If you’re counting the cracks in the wallThey’re quick and they’re greedy
They never feel guilty
They don’t know the meaning of hurt
The boots just go back on
The socks that had stayed on
The next time they see you
They treat you like dirt
The next time they treat you like dirtNow don’t come the cowboy with me sonny Jim
I know lots of those and you’re not one of them
There’s a light in your eyes tells me somebody’s in
And you won’t come the cowboy with me
Sorry guys, but the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am thing is no more, and the least you can do is take off your fucking socks before banging. You might want to try a little tenderness, as the modern women who are not doormats apppreciate something more along the lines of intimacy.
In the next verse, Kirsty turns a famous Hank Williams phrase into irony, pretends to regret that she’s fallen from grace with god, bemoans the silly rules of the mating ritual, and rejects the idea of having sex before you know a damn thing about the person you’re aiming to fuck:
Don’t be too rough on my cold, cold heart
It’s all I’ve got left to me now
I fell out of favour with heaven somewhere
And I’m here for the hell of it now
Some girls play cowboys
And some boys play harder to get
But they’ve got just the same
They smile and say cheese
They’re so eager to please
But they’ll never remember your name
The names and the places all change
Like Andy Partridge’s Peter Pumpkinhead, Kristy MacColl told the truth. Kudos to Fiachra Trench for a clever and classy country arrangement.
“Tread Lightly” (MacColl-Glenister): With its get-up-and-dance speed and strong beat, I can see how this song would work well live, but I don’t find the lyrics all that impressive. Can’t win ’em all, folks!
“What Do Pretty Girls Do?” (MacColl-Glenister): I guess I was a pretty girl, or at least my mother thought I would grow up to be one. When I was barely in my teens, she warned me about the inherent dangers of beauty. I wrote about it in my now completely unavailable to the public “Erotic Biography.”
“Ari, the first thing you need to understand is that you are going to be very beautiful someday. That is a blessing and a curse. It is a blessing because it will give you many choices and open many doors. It is a curse because some people will hate you for it because they are jealous, or try to have you for their own as if you were their property. Remember two things: first, beauty does not last forever, so enjoy it while you can and accept it when it goes. Second, always remember that you own your body and no one has the right to it unless you give your body of your own free will.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but I knew I would get it eventually. My mother is very good at explaining things in great detail, but always prefaces her comments with the lessons that will eventually become clear. Still, what she was saying made no sense to me. Beautiful? I was gawky, covered in zits and knew I would never be as beautiful as my mother.
I am deeply grateful to have such a thoughtful mother, for I learned later on that most pretty girls seethe with anger and resentment when they think their beauty is fading. It’s a lot worse now because they panic and load their lips and faces with Botox and wind up looking like Star Trek aliens.
If only they had listened to Kirsty . . .
She was a party girl, stayed up till the small hours
Now she’s embarrassing and everybody laughs
At the girl with the face that could drive her baby wild
Now wasn’t she the child with everything?You should have seen her with her head held high
Now what do pretty girls do?
She used to be the apple of his eye
Now what do pretty girls do?She went through such a lot
And never even learned
That even pretty girls can get their fingers burnedShe’s got a cabin in a town upon the border
She gets in trouble with the local law and order
Everybody’s happy when she isn’t at the door
She sends out invitations to everyone
They don’t come
(And the phone ain’t ringing for her now) . . .Collecting all the records and the posters
Of the people that she knew
And they knew
That she’d get older just like everybody else
She never thought she’d have to take care of herself
The doubled guitar arpeggios are sensitive and lovely, but the real attraction here is Kirsty’s amazing gifts for melody and harmony. Johnny Marr was enthralled by her vocal abilities and shared her secrets with the Arts Desk:
The way she recorded her harmony vocals was amazing. She’d pick the least obvious bit of the song, find the least obvious harmony part and sing it really quietly. She’d double this little part and move away from the mic and sing it in a slightly different way, and start building these layers. Bit by bit this amazing puzzle would fall into place. She had her own system that was all her own. You can hear it on songs like “What Do Pretty Girls Do?”
“Dancing in Limbo”: The sole performer on this song is Kirsty, who plays acoustic guitar in addition to giving us a sensitive lead vocal and more helpings of her endlessly pleasurable harmonies. The chords are quite simple, with a verse pattern that repeats the chords D and A with a transitional G-A close and a key change for the bridge as she repeats the chords E and Am. It sounds too elementary to be true, but that change to E-Am is remarkably effective in changing the mood from calm to “uh, oh, something’s not right here.” Sure enough, the song is about a relationship on the verge of collapse:
He said “Baby don’t go”
So she sat down again
And they said they’d be friends
Her mother said
She’d told her so
She’d made her own bed
Now she’d have to lie in itAnd the time goes summertime slow
And the world stops turning
And they’re dancing in limbo, limbo, limbo
The repetition of “limbo” is performed in stop time, evoking feelings of unhingement. She takes her pills (probably prescribed for depression) but doesn’t feel any better, while he fantasizes about a replacement:
His dream, peaches and cream
A cheesecake Betty from the celluloid screen
So close he holds out a hand
But she sleeps like a woman
When he wakes like a man
For all we know, she may be feigning sleep to avoid unsatisfying attempts at intimacy. I only hope that one of them finds the courage to admit failure and get the hell out of limbo.
“The End of a Perfect Day” (MacColl-Marr): Hmm . . . I wonder . . . is this the epilogue to “Dancing in Limbo?” It sure as hell sounds like it, but having expressed my hope that the couple cash in their chips and move on, I may be guilty of wishful thinking. I’ll present exhibits A, B, C, D, E, and F and leave it for the jury to decide. With this hypothesis, I assume that the female is the one speaking because of the “knuckle sandwich” line.
I want to tell you something
It’s not a secret or anything
You’re not alone in being alone
At the end of a perfect dayAnd if you leave all your dependents
Then they will gain their independence
Don’t make a martyr of yourself
It’s just the end of a perfect dayAnd it’s never how it seems
The rain may fall on the best laid schemes
But in a written testimonial I’d say
I never knew you anywayI want to tell you something
Now don’t go crazy or anything
Just want to tell you that it’s over
It’s the end of a perfect dayDo you want sign language?
Don’t want a knuckle sandwich!
Now you can love or you can hate
It’s just the end of a perfect dayYou can’t get inside someone
So don’t ask me if we’re close
I really couldn’t tell you
But I know you wouldn’t really listen anyway
Even if the lyrics have nothing to do with the limbo couple, the narrative is rock-solid, and the syncopated vocal that begins on the third beat gives the song a bit of a kick. The Glenister-Marr arpeggios are tight, bright, and lively, and the feel of the arrangement echoes the lightness one feels when jettisoning an unwanted burden.
“You and Me Baby” (MacColl-Marr): The album closes with a song featuring Kirsty’s gentle vocals, Marr’s sweet arpeggios, Gilmour’s restrained acoustic guitar, and the reappearance of the violin sextet. In addition to co-writing the two closing numbers, Kirsty and Johnny formed a mutual admiration society and became good friends. From the Arts Desk (ibid):
“We first met in 1986 when she sang backing vocals on the Smiths’ “Bigmouth Strikes Again”. We hit it off straight away and became very close friends. I was between flats in London and she told me I could live at her place in Shepherd’s Bush, so I became her tenant! We hung out and started writing together. It would be three in the morning, I’d be picking away absentmindedly on the guitar and she’d say, “What’s that?” The next morning she’d have turned it into a song. “You and Me Baby” was written like that. She believed in genuine inspiration and was able to write quickly because she was so talented, but she never just knocked something off. She had real craft as well.
“You and Me Baby” is another breakup song, but this one has a happy ending. To state the obvious, the song begins with the breakup:
You and me baby
Well we got no friends
Except for you and me baby
This is journey’s endAnd I try to hang on to all those precious smiles
But I’m tired of walking and it must be miles
Every time I took your hand
I felt so moved
Did you feel it too?You and me baby
Well we got no friends
Except for you and me baby
This is journey’s endAnd I try to hang on to all those precious words
But they don’t come easy
No I know they hurt
A sad state of affairs indeed, but the woman suggests a way out of their dilemma that offers the possibility of keeping what worked in the relationship and ridding themselves of what didn’t:
You and me baby
We’ll help each other
And I’ll be your sister if you’ll be my brother
And we won’t be parted
And we will be friends
‘Cause it’s you and me baby
It’s journey’s end
She burnishes her suggestion by recalling shared moments of vulnerability:
Every time I took your hand
I had a first-class ticket
To the promised landRosebud, oh Rosebud
He turned to me and wept
A vaguely coded message
I could never interceptYou and me baby
Well we got no friends
Except for you and me baby
This is journey’s end
You and me baby
We’ll help each other
And I’ll be your sister if you’ll be my brother
It is indeed possible to leave the sexual behind and embrace the platonic, but success only comes when both parties enjoy each other’s company so much that they’re willing sacrifice sex for genuine friendship. I think my batting average on this subject is below the Mendoza line, so if you need help re-imagining your relationship, don’t call me, call your therapist.
In any case, “You and Me Baby” is a beautiful ending to a beautiful album.
*****
Life is so unfair. Someone blessed with such a lovely soul and amazing talent as Kirsty MacColl should have lived a long and happy life, but it was not to be. Kirsty died at the age of forty-one. I would rather not cover the circumstances of her passing because my mission here is to celebrate her legacy, but you can find several obituaries on the internet if you must.
Kite is a wonderful album by a woman who was determined to find a life in music while staying true to her values. Though I wish she could have lived longer and continued to honor us with her compelling music and meaningful lyrics, her legacy should not be measured by quantity but by quality—and the quality of her music is well above average. I’ll leave you with one final ode to her legacy:
Too often, the stories of women in music are reduced to two extremes: trivia or tragedy. While there are exceptions, this narrow lens frequently overshadows their artistic contributions, creative agency, and broader cultural impact.
The story of Kirsty MacColl is often filtered through such a lens, focusing on her tragic death, her relationships with her famous father and even more famous husband and her stage fright. Musically, she’s known for the chart topper she wrote for Tracy Ullman, her hit of Ray Davies’ “Days” and the Pogues’ Christmas hit. But these are not the reasons why, every October, her fans gather in Soho Square to celebrate her life and legacy.
They meet under the trees because Kirsty MacColl was one of the greatest songwriters of her generation. Her fans come together to honour her artistry, her resilience, and her unmistakably fearless voice. She had a unique ability to weave humour, wit, and vulnerability into her songs . . . She took creative control over her work and her career, asserting her artistic integrity in an industry that too often sidelined women. Kirsty MacColl carved out her own space, refusing to be confined by others’ expectations.” (Toppermost, January 21, 2025)