He's a liar and I'm not sure about you

One of the wonderful things about meeting new people is being reminded of thing you'd forgotten. Make sense? probably not. Ok, how about seeing things through new eyes. Oh, come on, you find a cliche that fits properly.
Anyway, I was reminded of the genius of Kirsty Macoll before Christmas and not because of the link to the Pogues (lets face it, when even your retired mother starts to profess a fondness for A Fairytale of New York then perhaps, like David Beckham at Madrid it's time to move on.
And meeting a self-professed Kirsty Macoll fan I did what I usually do in these circumstances and plough through the back catelogue on itunes. Now I don't think I own a Kirsty Macoll record although I my brother had the 7 inch version of A New England. But I must have a dozen records with her on backing vocals and I guess that's true of more people than is strictly healthy. So having got through the itunes samples I was reminded why. Firstly I'm not sure anyone ever refined her songwriting. Whilst in the complete understanding that I can do no better and a whole lot worse, I can appreciate that not enough was done to iron out the kinks that appear in her songs (tempo is often my main stumbling point along with sudden shifts in melody that seem to leap around without reason) but there is one song that has been repeated so much on my ipod that it's starting to develop a life of its own. And sadly it's a song that I first heard through that wonderous example of variety, Ms Tracey Ulman. I seem to think that she played is as a slightly comic song but in truth it's the most feisty pop song I can recall. It's a real, "fuck you, I'm happy" song that contains one of the great moments in pop history.
The song is "They Don't Know"
The moment comes later than you think it should. After two trips round the verse-chorus structure we arrive at the middle eight. And you expect the moment because middle eights lead into this sort of thing. But no, it leads to the guitar break and finally, buried in the mix but still clear, Kirsty wails, lungs aplenty and out comes the most plaintive "Baby" you've ever heard. Seriously, listen. She's worth it. And so's Kirsty.