So Lee what kind of music do you like then?
I like the kind of music that is deplorable.
The kind of music that stinks the place up
like a rancid-smelling aphrodisiac.'
I bet you're more rock than pop,
more indie than dance yeah?
I like the kind of music that fosters
almost totally negative and destructive
reactions in young - and old - people.
Right. I was only making conversation.
We walked in on karaoke night
sat on stools by the bar
some girls chatted with you
I couldn't say a word
I prayed you didn't insist we 'have a go'
like when we sang Take That in
a Bulgarian ski lodge
Everyone was light-hearted and
effortlessly messy
I couldn't speak only drink
The song choices were uniformly terrible
according to Lord Snooty, but
one very excuse me hot chick shone
singing Real Love by R. Kelly
followed by an even hotter piece
performing Strutter by Kiss
you see what I mean
I clutched my glass, sure to be
ejected as a buzzkill
and tried to enjoy the San Franciscan night
The second summer of COVID
still working from home
time passing slowly summer days merging
noticed a free show at the Barbican Library
Did the calculations and disappeared
from my upstairs station for a couple of hours
Tangerine Dream: Zeitraffer celebrated
the 50-year history of the pioneering electronic band
Original synthesizers, unseen photos
Catholic Church controversy, rotten religious music
and John Peel's letter
My first encounter was the double live Encore
(see 'Our Belgian Friends' episode)
checked out Cyclone, Rubycon, Sorcerer
and more from the local record library
bought Force Majeure on transparent vinyl
They accompanied me throughout those
teenage years and beyond, a school
unto themselves. We parted ways in the mid-80s
but reconnected in the digital era
One of the many musical threads connecting
my youth with the present
And I was back at my desk before
anyone noticed I'd been away
'Mum, this is Iggy Pop over here, look.
You were listening to the stuff about him
but looking at Pete Seeger.'
'Oh, is this the junkie punk then,
not that other man?'
I went to the Annie Leibovitz exhibition
'BB King. Yeah, saw him last time I was in Moscow.'
He moves on to Aretha Franklin.
'Ah yes, the Queen of Soul. R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Absolutely."
I don't even remember going to the
Annie Leibovitz exhibition
One Easter holiday, we were going to visit
my parents' Belgian friends
'You remember Marion and Michel.
They visited here when you were little.'
Mum had asked if she could bring some presents for them
and had received a list of records
Which she duly purchased and which of course
I sneakily recorded onto Boots C90 cassettes
as soon as no one was around, because that's just what you did
I guessed Santana's Moonflower and
Tangerine Dream's Encore were for Michel
And Watch by Manfred Mann's Earth Band
featuring the hit single Davy's on the Road Again
and Kate Bush's debut The Kick Inside were for Marion
I remembered watching The Persuaders! with Michel
and bouncing up and down on the bed with Marion,
we didn't have much to say then, but now
we had the excuse me lingua franca of records
oh God this was going to be great
I was suspicious and resistant to change
for far too long and for which I make no apology.
Our corporate motto was "we embrace change"
and we ran it up the flagpole several times a day.
I thought CDs were wrong but it turned out I was.
Move on, silly rabbit. Revisionist.
Anyhoo, My First CD by Fisher Price
was You're in a Bad Way by Saint Etienne,
February 1993 (yes I held out a long time).
The conversion moment was a long dark night
during which I had a demonic battle
with the food poisoning.
I was up all night, weaving and waving
a-bobbing and a-bobbling, throwing
up and over and clinging on
to the radiator, totally ignored
by the masses the missus and demented in the brain,
thinking you're finished pal, can't sit down
can't stand up, can't go to sleep, and
all through my mind,
all through the feverish diminished
remnant of my mind went the refrain,
you're in a bad way.
On the nose. At least not out of the nose.
It had just come out and was my mental
earworm companion during those wobbling hours
of internal upheaval.
Man, I was shivering all night
knee trembling with fatigue
and ejecting the Fowl Poisones.
Redecorating the bathroom
- don't be vulgar.
One's dignity is up for grabs
in such a situation.
Beware the pink chicken.
And so I bought the CD single of
You're in a Bad Way by Saint Etienne
as soon as the devil's work was done
and I was ready to emerge
into the fresh hell of another day.
I had a vision
(never trust a vision)
for a Doors tribute band
called the Trap Doors.
At the end of The End, the fake
Jim Morrison would announce
that he'd had enough
and was going to Paris
to write some poetry
and have a bath.
Then - poof! - he would
disappear in a puff of smoke
(down a cunningly hidden
stage trap door you see.)
