In July 2022 I became a father for the first time. Given my age I suggested calling him Chesney as he might be the one and only, but my idea was met with tumbleweed.
This post isn't about me as such, nor to a certain extent him either, but being reunited with nursery rhymes. They are fantastic, aren't they, not least because it gives me the perfect excuse to sing and dance around like a twat. I met my partner at a karaoke bar back in 2005 so as you can imagine we consider singing the rhymes more of a pleasure than a chore. I can't speak for all parents but shuffling nursery rhymes is a great way of engaging with children, and it relaxes our son (at the time of writing of course). One night he had a nightmare that prompted relentless screaming. The biggest problem was that he was still asleep. Thankfully, knowing that nursery rhymes worked a treat when the chips were down, he stopped crying immediately, woke up and gave me a look that said, 'and your problem is?'.
Mind you, I'd forgotten how dark some of the rhymes are. Humpty Dumpty and Jack and Jill with their broken skulls, a baby falling from a treetop, malnourished animals, butchered blind mice, and Wee Willie Winkie, who comes across as someone you wouldn't leave your kids with.
Other than various ducks disappearing from mummy but rescued, where are the happy endings? Even an episode of Peppa Pig posed that question. Bambi and The Snowman still torture me today. I mean, yes, snow melts so it's not an unpredictable ending but maybe there could be an edited version with a note saying 'see you next year' or something.
The rhymes are an intriguing mix, not just for the content but the tunes themselves; inevitably within the shuffle there will be different versions of the same song - one with a strong melody, one with a different melody, one with different lyrics, one immaculately produced, another down to its bare bones, etc. One version of I Can Sing a Rainbow misses the uplifting part ('Listen to your eyes', etc), which makes me wonder whether it was pure laziness, the composer didn't know the chords, or his/her keyboard ran out of memory after 1 minute 30 seconds.
The deeper the dive, the more interesting it gets. A general search or request (for example, 'play nursery rhymes') will, in London Underground terms, provide a general mix akin to the Circle Line; it's the same rhymes every time, albeit random. However, if you request a specific 'station' on the Circle Line ( let's say Baker Street), it brings in other stations that 'sound like' the said choice because there are several lines running on the... [snore]
In simpler terms, if you find a rhyme you like within the shuffle, you can choose that one next time and it will bring in other rhymes, and the more you do this, the more familiar you become with the artists or production team.
One record label I discovered, Loulou and Lou, produces a range of music and other materials for babies and young children with visual impairment, instrumental lullabies and rhymes in foreign languages. Good stuff. However, I came across their mainstream rhymes, which I initially thought were intriguing; for example, a version of the usually upbeat Simple Simon with melancholy pianos and a male/female duet, a bit like Deacon Blue or Beautiful South. I quite liked it but then I remembered I was a fortysomething and not a baby [insert gag from partner here] and it didn't seem right. I listened on. Along came jazzy versions of Old MacDonald and Ba Ba Black Sheep with Marilyn Monroe-esque vocals and possibly the blandest ever version of We Wish You a Merry Christmas. What sort of market were the label aiming at?
I visited Loulou and Lou's home page and there it was:
"No pre-programmed fuss in our nursery rhymes. All of our music is made with real old-school instruments, by professional musicians, in a real studio. Because music deserves to be made with love, especially music for children!"
That's just wrong in every sense. Nursery rhymes are meant to be fun, aren't they? Catchy with the power to make you hum the tune for hours on end, whether you want to or not. There is a reason why the classics mentioned elsewhere have stood the test of time, so turning them into smug jazz-produced rhymes and draining them of their charm and melody seems farcical to me. Is there genuinely a market for soulless, joyless middle class households with kids chained to a piano and forced to go to classical music classes rather than play football with friends?
I also discovered, and would recommend, Rainbow Collections, which specialises in tweaked nursery rhymes. Lavender's Blue is beautiful with its Fairytale of New York-esque strings and tinkly synth patterns, as is a similarly-produced gentle version of Little Bo Peep, both part of a lullaby collection. Weirdly, though, my favourite rhyme on that album arguably shouldn't be on there. Ring a ring a roses in isolation is outstanding but because of its structure and the fact it rises to a crescendo towards the end doesn't fit into the idea of settling a baby to sleep.
The most intriguing artist I came across was Rosie Hetherington (who may or may not have been a member of the Top of the Pops dance troop Legs and Co in the 1970s). She first stood out when I heard her version of the prolific Three Little Ducks, which featured rubber duck noises from her Toy Box Band. It sounded tragic when I first heard it, and it didn't help that her voice sounded like a Blue Peter presenter, but the more I listened to her collection the more I realised she was arguably the best fit in terms of engaging with young children. Her rhymes were based on live performance and this doesn't do her justice. Soundtracks generally tend to be disappointing because they don't replicate the context of the rhymes. I go to a singing group on Mondays and it's great fun but I'm sure it would sound terrible if recorded. If I was planning to hire someone for a toddlers' party it would be Rosie or someone of her ilk. It might sound cringeworthy to me but sometimes, to quote a character in Mary Poppins, we have to think of the children.
Anyway, I'll leave you with five of my favourite discoveries. You might sneer and say they are soooo 1975 but who cares.
Sleepy little Benjamin
This is an example of the Baker Street theory. I asked specifically for the infectious Fish and Chips and Vinegar and it followed up with 'similar artists'. So this was a great find considering it didn't appear in any general searches. And of course, Benjamin can be replaced by your baby's name.
If only life was as simple as frogs dipping in the pool and munching some most delicious grub. Glub glub.
Apples and bananas
'I like to eat, eat, eat, apples and bananas'. Just the one line but it cleverly takes us around the vowels, ending with 'I like to ute, ute, ute, uples and bununus'. Bonkers but genius.
The Bunny Hop
A joyous earworm, so catchy that I have been prone to humming 'Hop, hop, hop like a bunneee' in various locations.
Say hello to the sun
Sweet dreams matey.
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