The Raindrops - He's A Beast album
With it raining here in Devon today i thought this song would be the right one to upload. This song was released in 1969 and made for the film "Butch Cassidy.
Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head" is a song written by Hal David and Burt Bacharach for the 1969 film Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. It won an Academy Award for Best Original Song. David and Bacharach also won Best Original Score. The song was recorded by B. J. Thomas in seven takes, after Bacharach expressed dissatisfaction with the first six. In the film version of the song, Thomas had been recovering from laryngitis, which made his voice sound hoarser than in the 7-inch release.
Beast is the debut album of Canadian band Beast. While it has been physically released in Canada, international releases have not been announced.
Raindrops are falling on my head And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed Nothing seems to fit Those raindrops are falling on my head, they keep falling. So I just did me some talking to the sun And I said I didn't like the way he got things done He's sleeping on the job Those raindrops are falling on my head, they keep fallin'.
He had also already used Eddie as the basis for a number of paintings, with the character supposedly based on a head he saw hanging over the side of a burnt-out Japanese tank in a TV documentary. Eddie represented the idea that the youth of today were being wasted by society, Riggs told Classic Rock. He started out like that, anyway, and I made him more scary. I never knew the band very well, he continues. I’d only met them a few times unti. east. Most of the concepts for the album covers were worked out by me and the manager, Rod Smallwood.
Iron Maiden - The Number Of The Beast (1982).
So I just did me some talkin' to the sun And I said I didn't like the way he got things done He's sleepin' on the job Those raindrops are fallin' on my head, they keep fallin'
Beast is the debut album of Canadian band Beast.
The wildest he allows himself to be, and maybe the wildest the band’s ever sounded, is Turtleneck, a mid-album cut that veers startlingly close to National rave-up. Berninger pitches his vocals at a ragged shout. It’s a political rocker, sardonic and full of withering asides like, Light the water, check for lead. He’s the guy the spotlight follows, and the band-as limber and powerful as the Dessner and Devendorf brothers are-serve mostly just to set the scene for Berninger to mutter intelligent, self-deprecating things into strange and counterintuitive rhythmic pockets of the songs.
|A||He's A Beast||2:00|
|B||Can You Dance A Polka?||1:55|