Opening with a crunchy and oddly aggressive guitar line, it soon becomes a warm coo of a track, full of gorgeous female backing vocals. Yet there’s a heavier, darker side here too, the drums crash heavily throughout, there’s blasts of electric guitar that sound almost like someone plugging in and unplugging a live lead. The whole track is delightful contradictions, part the beauty, part the beast.
The opening lyrical salvo is surely one of the most beautifully, articulate and descriptive pieces of lyricism ever put to tape, don’t ask me what it is about the line “breeze blows leaves of a musty coloured yellow, so I sweep them in my sack” that I find so wonderful, I think it’s how something can simultaneously be so inane and so beautiful. The second verse see’s Ray lamenting the end of the sunny afternoons, as “tea and a toasted, buttered, current bun, can’t compensate for lack of sun.” As the chorus kicks in, we get surely the only mention of rheumatism in rock history, as Ray laments his creaking joints as the cold nights draw in.