Welcome to the attic of my mind. Mind the stairs, click the light on and have a rummage around my thoughts on writing, the art of everything second-hand, the natural world, music . . . just about everything. Probably not much about sport.
Thursday, 18 June 2015
Songs of Life No 6
I couldn't find a youtube film but actually I think this song is best listened to with eyes shut, preferably lying down, and letting the past - good and bad - sloosh around in your mind.
I had left London at this point in my life, and hurled myself into the unknown: big relationship mess- up, new work in a Midlands city, and had abandoned my London flat for a room with a view of an unloved scrap of land in a shared house that smelt of old fags and too many fry-ups.
After dragging my few possessions up to the second floor, I had painted the room black and installed my wardrobe-sized Wharfdale speakers. Many hours passed in a not-unpleasant sort of grey melancholia while the rain slanted on my window; hours spent figuring out this new life and vaguely analysing what had happened in the last few weeks.
I'd played to a pulp, all the other The The albums, and this one, bought just before I left, seemed to be strangely akin to what I was feeling; in particular this track. Great heart-felt lyrics; wonderful choice of instruments, particularly the bass (I think) clarinet; distant piano teemed with echoing, distant human howls and scuffling snare drum.
My skin still raises its goosebumps on hearing those first few words.
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