Word: hymning
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...approaching right--we do need a little more Waylon and Willie. Their duet album is amazing, the best country album of the year by a long shot. From the first cut on side one, "Mama Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys," a tongue-in-cheek hymn to pre-professionalism ("Don't let 'em play guitars and drive them old trucks/Let 'em grow up to be lawyers and doctors and such"), you know this album is going to have some punch and humor. The crazy, whining guitars on "Mamas" come back for an encore...
When James Herriot writes about his animal farm, it doesn't have the Orwellian bite. Rather, in a series of bestsellers named after the lyrics of an Anglican hymn (All Things Bright and Beautiful, All Creatures Great and Small, AH Things Wise and Wonderful), the Scots-born veterinarian has painted a bucolic picture of his life ministering to four-legged friends in Yorkshire. Herriot, 61, who started writing at 50, now is consulting on scripts for the BBC, which has just begun to air a series based on his work. With it all, Herriot, a pseudonym for James Alfred...
...least, from the meat-market atmosphere of the singles bars. The disco scene has grown generally less barbarous, and is now in retreat from the narcissistic solo gyrations that became fashionable in the early '60s. The most phenomenal pop-song hit of the season? That saccharine hymn to a sweetheart, You Light Up My Life...
...singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic all day. The truth goes marching on," Cambridge Mayor Alfred E. Vellucci said at a press conference yesterday. Though Vellucci may have lost his $16,000-a-year state job this week, he has still kept his sense of humor. And his title--he hopes...
...spiritual steel forged by centuries of oppression!... Here in this little hemmed-in world where home must be theatre and concert hall and social center, there was a warmth of song. Songs of love and longing, songs of trials and triumphs, deep-flowing rivers and rollicking brooks, hymn-songs and ragtime ballads, gospels and blues, and the healing comfort to be found in the illimitable sorrow of the spirituals. --Paul Robeson, in Here I Stand...