Charles Connolly

Welcome all to 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 playlists.

𝙈𝙮 𝙁𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝘾𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙 – 𝙎𝙞𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙑𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙞

Charles favours one over the others…

So you’re single. Having the time of your life. Enjoying every day to the max. Utterly free and untethered. What joy it is! But you rarely realise it at the time. From time to time however, you do start to get a wittle bit wonewee. Just a wittle bit. You want to share these fun times with someone. But not in the way you would with your best friend. You want something closer. SomeONE closer. So you keep your eyes peeled and wear your lucky red t-shirt. Soon enough you spot the cutest little thing with the sweetest of moustaches, and a pretty little large beauty spot right in the middle of the forehead. Attraction can be a queer thing, and love can sway and skew all. Their name is Mel, and things go rather well. Ah hell, it’s better than that, can’t you tell? You fell to one knee, they said yes, and now it’s wedding bells! What fun, what larks, what japes! Nothing could spoil this beginning of forever. But like every business, expansion is the key. So they got fat. Well, one did. But before getting thin again, a thing arrived by stork. A little bloody blob of a person, no less!

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Welcome all to 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 playlists.

𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘, 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙚𝙨 – 𝙋𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙠 𝘼𝙝𝙡𝙢

Charles measures life…

My weekly musings often cover the wisest philosophy. Or rather, they ramble on about this or that for several paragraphs. Something that has happened to me recently. Something in the news. My general random observations. A sad thing. A happy thing. Ya know: stuff. Basically, something in the artist or song that will give me something to blether about for a little while. But this time, let’s go deeper. Let us philosophise about one the biggest conundrums known to man: the meaning of life. I will not be littering this with Monty Python quotes, just in case any of you got excited. This will be deadly serious. Well, as deadly serious as I can get anyway. Which isn’t very.

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Welcome all to 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 playlists.

𝙈𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙊𝙛 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙨 – 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙀𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚

Charles is not himself…

Ghosts do not exist. They just don’t. At least, I don’t think they do. No, they don’t. For the last hour I have been chatting with my twin brother about the idea, as I sit on my desk chair, and he sits most comfortably on my sofa. We have come to the conclusion that they don’t exist. Magic also, is not real. Only illusion and trickery. Wait a second. I don’t have a twin brother. I don’t even have a brother. Then who have I been talking to? And where the hell has he gone? Okay, he is not here anymore. Maybe he popped out for a bit of air. But no, wait. WHO is he? Who WAS he? And why is the sofa now facing the wall? Time for a cup of tea, to calm my nerves. Got to heave this sofa back to its former position first. JEEZ, it’s heavy. Right. Tea. Kettle on. Cup from cupboard, teabag from other cupboard. Where’s the cup?! Let’s try again. Right, CUP from cupboard. Ugh, forgot to plug in the kettle. Wait, I never unplug the kettle. Wait, it’s boiling! Where’s the damned CUP?? Okay, forget this. No tea. Back to the living room. Must turn that sofa. Wait, I turned the sofa! Oh thank God, my twin is back. That’s a relief. He turns the sofa, so I don’t have to. Now HE wants tea. Well HE can battle with the cup this time. He seems to be making a lot of noise in there; let’s have a look. Twin gone. Wait, I DON’T HAVE A TWIN!! Tea made, though. Well at least that’s something. Oh what a relief, my mother is here. Now I know SHE exists. She’ll calm me down. There’s something not quite right, though. She seems to be walking backwards, towards the window. I feel a little uncomfortable – her voice is much deeper than usual. The window falls from its frame. She is being sucked outwards into a chaotic hurricane. All she can say is “is this tea for me?”. The tea is really the last thing on my mind, right now… The whole flat (apartment, for you Americans) starts to disintegrate and rumble from below. I am alone. Flames start to grow from the cracks in the floor. Embers are shot upwards like mini fireworks. As I cower and curl up into a ball, wishing for my twin to comfort me – existing or not – a deep, dark and devilish music surrounds me. Enticing me with a fiery hand. I feel the urge to grab these boney fingers and succumb to my only chance, whatever that may be.

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Welcome all to 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 playlists.

𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 – 𝙂𝙚𝙛𝙖𝙝𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙞𝙨𝙩

Charles goes to church…

For someone so irreligious as I, God and his troves do make quite a number of appearances in my articles. Please do not forsake me oh Lord, for not conforming to your scriptures, but I give thanks for leading me to my own weekly scriptures. Or some such rubbish. Let’s face it, there is something very satisfying and wholesome about this way of speaking. A church remains largely unaltered by the modern world, with the exception of a card reader in place of a donation box. Even the almighty Lord himself is not impervious to contactless payment… On/Off topic, when at the Roman Baths in Bath the other week, I did chuckle at the sign which read “Do not throw coins into the water, please instead use the contactless donation device located to your right” – completely missing the point of throwing coins into fountains and the like. As if to say that places without such modern payment methods would have dedicated evening staff fishing the pennies out of the water, in order to pay for that leaky roof. It gives a different meaning to Sinatra singing about “three coins in the fountain”… I would imagine the same goes for the “Love Locks” on countless bridges and railings all over the world – they are simply donating padlocks to the nation. That must be the reason. Now if only they supplied the key as well, then we’d all be secure. God almighty, I forgot what we were talking about! Oh yes: God Almighty. Aside from the beauty and romance of it all, even non-believers will turn to it for another reason. Desperation. When almost all hope is lost, one cries for help.

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Welcome all to 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 playlists.

𝙍𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚 – 𝙀𝙘𝙝𝙤 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙚

Charles momentarily forgets the past…

With the passing of time, time passes. This is without exception and by definition what happens. There is no time when time stands still. “Now” is instantly “then”. The future becomes the present, and the present becomes the past. Which is why people get so excited about the lottery, yet couldn’t give a damn about last week’s numbers. But with time comes change. Change in all ways, always. What was once so popular becomes so impossibly unfashionable. A young green fragile stem with but one leaf, becomes a great, grand awe-inspiring oak, towering above almost everything, given time. But given more time, its life is forced to a close, and it becomes, say, a table. Time is everything here. Without time, life is a photograph. Without time, there would be no war, no destruction, no death and no rush. But then again, without time, there would be no peace, no conservation, no life and no rush.

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Welcome all to 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 playlists.

𝙍𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙮 𝘿𝙖𝙮𝙨 – 𝘽𝙡𝙪𝙚 𝙍𝙤𝙮𝙖𝙡𝙨

Charles adds a little seasoning…

Think back not too long ago. That never-ending, heavy, lethargic summer. The relentless heat. The endless blue sky. The golden tan no longer a novelty; it’s a permanent ultraviolet stain. The trees all lush green with envy as they watch you sip your ice cold drink of choice. You’re slow. You’re tired. You’re raw. You’re just too exposed to the elements, and it’s been too long. “Pray for rain!”, we all cry! Pray for rain. But the next day, not a drop. Nothing but blissful blue. Nothing but scorching sun. Nothing but pure “paradise”… There is no hideaway in which to hide away. You wear too much, you overheat. You wear too little, you burn. You crave the days of change. The days where sweat is a sign of hard work, not simply of being. You wish for the leaves to come down to earth in hues of orange, of yellow and of red. You wish for a cool breeze not articulated by a rotating blade. You wish for a cloud, if only to break the monotony of blue perfection. You wish, you wish, you wish. But in reality, you wait, you wait, you wait.

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Welcome all to 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 playlists.

𝙍𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙗𝙤𝙬 – 𝙈𝙖𝙥 𝙤𝙛 𝘼𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙣

Charles finds a treasure map…

It is the beginning of July. Do you know what this means? It means we are truly in the thick of Summer. Well, for those in the Northern Hemisphere, anyway. In Britain though, we have a different way of looking at it. It’s very much the thin of it. We tend to look at Summer like a dream. Like, “one day I’ll be rich”. Like this impossibility for which we are eternally hopeful. An impossibility that is not only possible but highly likely in other parts of the world. I don’t mean a wealth of pennies. I mean a wealth of sunshine and of heat. In many parts of America, people right now are simply too dehydrated to bother with a rain dance. Besides, it would be a futile endeavour. The clouds are too busy migrating to Britain in small boats. It’s apparently where they belong. Italy though, as usual, has it just right: perfect clockwork weather. In Italy, Summer means Summer. In Britain, Summer is a bit like the Euros. We hope and hope some more. A few days of sunshine is like England winning the football on Sunday: enjoy it while it lasts. That could be it. We always hope we’ll get a proper European Summer. We always hope to win a major football tournament. And although the outcome is rarely terrible, we’re never left satisfied. This is the English way. Mustn’t grumble, but must mutter under our breath. Last week was Summer. This week? It’s all right. The usual meh. But still, we keep on hoping, in search of this mythical utopian season. If only we had a map of Summer.

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Welcome all to 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 playlists.

𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 – 𝘾𝙃𝙑𝙍𝙇𝙄 𝘽𝙇𝙑𝘾𝙆

Charles considers the “Home Alone” effect…

It is coming to the end. I know this is infamously the bleak midwinter, but that’s not quite what I meant. What I meant was, the year is fast coming to a close. It is a time for collecting one’s thoughts. Yes, all of them. That’s a lot of thoughts. Let’s face it, we all started the year with plans. But did we all fulfil said plans? This time last year, I said I would release far more music. How many releases did I manage? Three. Three measly tunes in an entire year. And one of those I didn’t even write! Useless. So that plan fell flat on its face. Maybe next year. Next! I planned to go to Italy in the Summer. Did I succeed in doing so? Did I, heck. Maybe next year. Next! How’s about the hair? I said I would try my hardest to grow more hair on my head. No matter how much I held my breath and screwed up my face like a child who’s just swallowed a teaspoon of vinegar, it just wouldn’t grow. Ah well. We can but try. Next! What about the career? The mixing and producing? Well, I think I’ve succeeded there. In that respect, things are starting to take shape and come to fruition. Well at least that’s one thing. So I’m not a COMPLETE and utter failure. Okay, well I think that’s my thoughts collected – most of them have been collected already in my year’s worth of Connolly’s Corner articles (I’m not really calling them “reviews” anymore – despite each reviewing a song). So now that my thoughts are neatly filed away, alphabetically, chronologically and by mood, what is there to do? Well if there’s anything you really wanted to do in 2022, now’s your last chance. You have but a few days. I would suggest not choosing anything too daring, dramatic or adventurous, or you simply won’t have time. Also, sod that for a game of soldiers.

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Welcome all to 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 playlists.

𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙈𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖 – 𝙎𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙚

Charles is a mummy’s boy…

Just over a week ago was Mothering Sunday, or more commonly known as Mother’s Day. Having induced an almighty heart thump in the American, Australian and Mexican readers, don’t worry – you did not forget. Yours is in May. As for the rest of you around the world, please consult your diary. I only know about England, for I am English. Heart thump for the forgetful English… So, on that typically sunny cloudy rainy dry windy still Sunday, I took my mother to lunch in a posh restaurant. No I didn’t. I can’t afford a posh restaurant, and neither had I the foresight to book a table enough in advance even if I COULD have afforded it. Planning is everything. So on the Saturday we spoke on the telephonic communication system, otherwise known these days as a phone. There had always been a lovely old unchanged pub somewhat near where she lives. I used to frequent this drinking hole quite a bit. She had been there MANY years ago – I believe. It was always full of old junk. In a good way. Ancient street signs, original beer and tobacco adverts, stuffed animals and even a beautiful curved backlit stained glass “window” in the corner. Old church pews and cracked green leather banquettes grounded beneath the ornately Rococo-framed portrait of Sir Richard Steele as he peered down at the exciting eccentric hoard with disgrace. The pub had been unimaginatively named in honour of this late 17th century writer: The Sir Richard Steele. Or as we locals called it, The Steeles. It was fabulous. One of my absolute favourite pubs in London, and ever so popular. So what did they do? They closed it and gutted it. Apparently in order to “refresh” the appearance and make it “more appealing to a modern audience”. I went back months later after it had reopened, and I almost wept. The beautiful stained glass of which I spake was now the entrance door. I didn’t get much further than that. Cheap pop music blasted through the place in the mid afternoon, as literal toddlers toddled all over the floor. The place was made of cheap purple plastic. Even the floor. They had a bouncer. Ahem, sorry: a doorman. That was new. Didn’t used to be necessary. Kinda shows what kinda clientele they were expecting… I didn’t actually walk in, I just peered around the door, shuddered and left. Before wandering up the road in a dispirited frame of mind, I spoke to the doorman softly with a hand on his shoulder, explaining how it used to be. He replied in kind, hand on mine. He said “Take your hand off my shoulder or I’ll…” – no he didn’t. He said how he had heard so much about the old place and how sad everyone is that it’s gone. It seemed as though he would have loved it. The place was empty, and stayed that way. Hence the inevitable closure not too long after.

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Welcome all to 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆’𝘀 𝗖𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of 𝙉𝙚𝙬 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 playlists.

𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 – 𝙎𝙖𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙖 𝘽𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙤

Charles realises what Christmas is all about…

The most special time of year is upon us, whether you like it or not – you’re a right Scrooge if you don’t. Whether you’re a Bible basher or simply a lover of niceness and good times, Christmas is and will always be something special to most of us. A light dusting of snow on the ground, the twinkling of stars in the night sky. Distant carol singers from around the corner. Sure this may not be the case in actuality, but it is present in our hearts. The FEELING of Christmas. All warm and fuzzy. That cosiness that differs from duvet-cosiness. The time for family and cheer. The time for merriment and a kind of chaos that just doesn’t matter and instead makes you laugh. Even in the whitest of modern minimalist rooms, gaudy colourful decorations will adorn the mantelpiece and of course the vital tree. Those who feel that Christmas ornaments should be white and tasteful, I feel have maybe missed the point of Christmas. It is not to blend in with its cold, austere surroundings, but to make one feel like it used to in the old days. A feeling of fondness and warmth. A feeling of peace in a simpler time. Speaking of trees… That smell!!! There is nothing quite like it to bring out the festive mood. The twinkling fairy lights only add to the excitement. It is also the time to bring out the old Christmas records. Seemingly the only time these days when music is allowed to be both popular and old. What’s your favourite kind of Christmas music? Choirs? Carols? Sinatra? Perhaps it’s all that wonderful pop stuff made famous by the “Now That’s What I Call Music – Christmas Album” from the 80s – at least in Britain anyway. Maybe you have a secret penchant for one of the Streisand Christmas albums? Weirdly, I personally like it all! As soon as the calendar clicks into December, I listen to little else – aside from new releases from the New Artist Spotlight, of course.

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