When that song plays...

Writing about music and memories. One song at a time.

[whenthatsongplays]

Tenacious D - Fuck Her Gently

By Rhys Thomas

.....

From 2002 to 2003 I lived with two of my best friends. We spent most of our free time together that year going out partying, playing an excessive amount of Pro Evo on PS2, we were even in a 10 pin bowling league.

Despite having so many things in common, music wasn't really one of them. There were a few songs we all liked - Gay Bar by Electric Six, anything off the Dumb & Dumber soundtrack or by Nirvana, but the track we loved most of all was Fuck Her Gently by Tenacious D.

We had a rule that we were never allowed to play the song a single time, and whenever we played it one of us would say "but we never listen to it once... or twice... but three times!" before proceeding to listen to it twice over.

It didn't matter if we were eating food, in the middle of an overly complicated PES tournament or driving somewhere in our little Fiat - the rule always applied. I even remember waiting in the parked car for our third listen to finish before going in the house.

We still see each other regularly but we rarely listen to music together these days however even to this day I can't hear that song without hearing one of their voices call out "but we never listen to it once...."

.....

Rhys tweets as @Archarwr and writes about wrestlers in film at Wrestling at The Movies. He also quotes and paraphrases lines from Fuck Her Gently more often than probably acceptable and writes stupid little songs that have been compared to the 'D, and although that's cool with him he doesn't really agree with the comparison

[whenthatsongplays]

Prince - Gett Off

By Victoria Manifold

.....

If your skin produces an excess of sebum and your hair is dry and thick but also greasy and dirty and it’s 1995 then you’ll be wearing headphones and crouching in the small space between the stereo and the armchair. And in the fake mahogany cabinet there will only be 4 CDs:

Prince: the Hits 1

Tubular Bells

Subterranean Homesick Blues

Prince: the Hits 2

And you’re a dirty little 12 year old, plugging in headphones to listen to Gett Off in secret over and over again. And you will always know even 20 years later that it’s track 15 on Prince: the Hits 2.  And you don’t really think about it now because you prefer to listen to When U Were Mine or I Would Die 4 U because Dirty Mind and Purple Rain are much better albums than Diamonds and Pearls. But when Steph puts on Absolute 90s at work you still mouth every single word he sings under your breath. 

You heard it first on a mix tape in your dad’s car, a white Nissan Bluebird with rust spots and exhaust problems. And you sit very still when you listen to the lyrics so no one knows how you’re thinking about them. You’re squashed in the back between your sisters and you can’t twitch or flinch in case they realise where you’re feeling the music. Because you feel the music with your entire body and especially through the damp patch in your underwear.

It’s easy to listen in secret because your sisters have friends and go outside and your mam is at work and your dad is always busy. And even when they walk through on their way to the kitchen they sometimes don’t even see you because of the position of the chair. And even when they do they don’t know that Gett Off is playing again and again and that you are thinking about how a little box can contain a mirror and a tongue again and again.

And they definitely don’t know that you fall to sleep in a masturbatory stupor at least two in every five nights. You could tell them but it would definitely offend and unnerve.

..... 

Victoria Manifold is a standard adult female from the North East of England. She likes Columbo and precious little else. Look at her here.

Prince is not a standard adult male with a troubled relationship with the internet - hence this piece is accompanied by a video of Hilary Swank instead of Prince. Read about Prince’s relationship with YouTube here. 

[whenthatsongplays]

Ooberman - Shorley Wall

By Steve Spithray

.....

To put things in perspective in 1998 when I first heard Shorley Wall I was fresh back from a year travelling round the world, on the dole and sleeping in friends’ spare rooms and I had no plan.  I was aimless, broke and had sold most of my belongings (including my CD collection) to fund this ill-advised transient lifestyle I had no real hope of sustaining.

Then I heard Shorley Wall and, I’m not going to pretend I had an epiphany and it changed my life but, everything made a little bit more sense and it remains my favourite song of all time.

From the opening keyboard and lilting verse into that ethereal chorus and the dreamy surreal lyrics it sounds like dawn on a hot summer day, the early morning sun burning away the last of the dew.

I spent that summer looking for a meaningful existence ergo, now I come to admit it, meaningful employment. It was a hot one as well, like they were in the 90s, I remember beer garden afternoons drinking lager-tops (there must have been a brief fashion at the time) and G&Ts, sometimes in my suit, if I had had an interview, sometimes in my civvies, that would invariably lead to late night music sessions where Shorley Wall was never far away from the stereo. I remember people often being surprised when I put it on but it’s just such a beautiful, perfect pop song I defy anybody not to like it. Even secretly.

It reminds me of going rock-pooling with my Granddad on our first family holidays, it reminds me of my first drink in the park or falling off my bike and it reminds me of leaving school and playing guitar. And it also reminds me of falling in love for the first time and, indeed, falling out of love for the first time. And that is the song in a nutshell, both heartfelt and heart breaking at the same time. It reminds me of Watership Down and my Granddad later dying and leaving me the money to travel. If it was a book it would be Captain Corelli’s Mandolin or One Hundred Years of Solitude but I prefer to think that if my whole life flashed before my eyes Shorley Wall would be playing in the background.

I would say I fell in love with Shorley Wall on first listen but that would be incorrect, I fell in love with it on second listen once I knew how it ends. I find it a bit crass and clichéd when people say which songs they want played at their funeral but when keyboardist Sophie’s voice cracks at the end of the poem in the outro and the acoustic guitar fades back in it evokes a euphoric intensity in me that I have sometimes thought I want to leave people with at my funeral.

When that songs plays now my knees still go funny and I get a sentimental judder.

One night when I hadn’t heard it for months I was in a friend’s living room in the early hours coming down off an ecstasy tablet with the tele on silent in the background when we both suddenly decided to turn the volume up just as a clip of Shorley Wall started from that year’s Leeds Festival coverage.

It could have signalled the start of the next wave of British indie or post-Britpop or whatever but the subsequent album (‘The Magic Treehouse’), although good, could never live up to Shorley Wall and the band all but disappeared as The Strokes and The Libs moved in with a more direct sound.

People still text me when they hear it and it’s nice to know that people I haven’t seen or spoken to for a long time still think of me when they do.

.....

Steve Spithray can be found tweeting as @ThePleb_Society 

[whenthatsongplays]

The Rolling Stones – Gimme Shelter

By Chris Rogers

…..

I'm sat cross-legged on the solid wooden floor of an empty flat. I'm not on the floor out of choice - there's no furniture. No heating either, and it's cold. Damn cold. Not just the floor, but the whole room is as bitter as the dark December night staring back at me through the curtainless windows. All I've got is a bottle of gin and a CD player...

I know what you're thinking - this tale is going to be even more depressing than the last one. But ignore the bare surroundings, the complete absence of comfort and the staggering speed in which the Mother's Ruin is being put away. This was the first day of the rest of my life.

The first 45 seconds of Gimme Shelter by The Rolling Stones is, in my opinion, among rock's greatest ever intros and it will always be the soundtrack to the setting I've just described. It brings back fond memories of excitement, optimism and great friendship.

I'd just bought my first house, and I was moving in with the few possessions I owned at the time. Sure, the place was empty, but it was my place - a blank canvas to make my own. Also sat on the floor was my good mate Danny. He'd spent all afternoon helping me shift boxes, and it was time to relax.

The only drink available was the gin. It hadn't been packed because I'd won it in a Christmas raffle a day or two earlier. We had no television but we had a CD player. One snag though, no CDs - they were in a box yet to be collected. We had to rely on the random album left in the CD player's tray, which was one of the Stones' Forty Licks.

I lost count of the times we listened to Gimme Shelter that night, as we polished off the bottle of gin and got completely obliterated. How we managed to turn it into such a memorable night, I'll never know.

I was extremely grateful to Danny for helping me move that day. Lots of friends had promised to lend a hand, but those offers were all rescinded as soon as they found out the date of my move - the last Friday before Christmas.

This day goes by many a name depending on where you are. In North Devon, where I was at the time, it's known as Factory Friday. At its best, it's a chance to enjoy a glass of port with work colleagues and wish them a merry Christmas as the factories and offices close for the festive break. At worst, it's an excuse to get slaughtered. An unnamed colleague of mine once went on a six-hour Factory Friday bender before being carried home - he still made it back in time to watch Countdown.

Danny was my only mate who ignored the lure of Factory Friday to help me move that day, and I've always been so very grateful to him for that gesture. He's remained a very good friend, even though we're no longer living near each other. Gimme Shelter will always remind me of that evening, which spawned what is now known as the 'Gin and Rolling Stones Night'.

It's a themed night we still like to replicate to this day. We'll drink gin and we'll listen to the Stones, for old time's sake. Only when we do it now, we have furniture and heating. I'd like to say those drinking sessions became legendary, but the locals of Bideford - where we invariably ended up later in the night - will probably have another word to describe it.

It's actually been a couple of years since we last held the ritual. What do you say mate, I've got the CD if you've got the gin...

…..

Chris Rogers can be found on Twitter as @chrisrogers731

[whenthatsongplays]

A Winged Victory For The Sullen - Requiem For The Static King Part 2

By Gareth Ware

.....

It's a Friday night at a festival in Derbyshire, c. 10 pm.I'm in bed, where I'll spend the rest of the night shaking and in pain while hearing my friends having fun at the campsite disco, having had my body tell me in no uncertain terms that I'd best lie down soon or it was going to do the job for me imminently irrespective of where I'd be or what I was doing at the time.

With the benefit of hindsight it was somewhat inevitable. Back in the January of 2010, in the depths of a post-university no man's land which saw me living on Anglesey, a  day out in Manchester would end with being taken to esteemed clubnight and music community hub Underachievers Please Try Harder. The riotous, booze-fuelled night that followed would instil both a love and sense of affinity that would result in a gradual increase in frequency of visits through the first half of the year, each time slowly getting to know more of the scene's inner workings and its characters. With a series of close friendships formed and consolidated over the summer, by its conclusion I'd be visiting on average every 2-3 weeks, as I would do for the next year.

The next year felt like one big adventure, a whirlwind of madcap outings with a crowd of people similarly bumbling through their twenties. During those 12 months I could be found making lightning visits for gigs as part of a 21-hour day that could get me from work to Manchester and back home again in the small hours of the morning ready for the next day's stint in the office. Or weekend revelry that would carry on into the small hours and end with me scrunched on a sofa somewhere for something nominally resembling sleep. The trouble was, this breakneck living was slowly taking its toll on my health. Friends would later gently say they thought they'd noticed me looking more run down as time went by – something I'd either missed or wilfully ignored in the quest for a good time. In the week leading up to the festival – following a month that had somehow seen 6 visits to Manchester on top of my job – even I knew the game was up and made quiet plans to step back for a while. By the end of that weekend, deep in the throes of being a burnt out husk of a man, it was less a suggestion and more a necessity.

The next three months spent regrouping and recovering seem to have now been consigned to a footnote in my conscience. For someone whose power of recall often amazes and annoys people in equal measure, I can remember surprisingly little. I know that despite the parlous state I was in at the time I never took a day off work, and having to miss a Manchester city-centre demo run of McLaren's F1 car, but precious little else save napping a lot and perpetually feeling as though I was missing out on things. Though, one other thing that sticks out is how, for someone fond of taking several ambles a day, I suddenly found myself lacking both the desire and ability. Until one day off work, where I woke up and came up with the idea of tackling a walking route up the east coast totalling a 16-mile round trip.

The thought processes that led to the resultant day out are as irrelevant as they are lost to the depths of history, but what it did do was afford an opportunity to catch up with some albums en route, notably the début offering from A Winged Victory For The Sullen, the then-new project from renowned ambient/new classical artists Adam Wiltzie and Dustin O' Halloran. A record of ludicrous, cinematic beauty from start to finish, the seven minutes of 'Requiem For The Static King Part 2' seemed to resonate the most, with the lilting swathes of sound giving way to a plaintive string melody before building back up and adding a delicate teardrop piano melody on top.  It's sweeping, graceful and perfect for losing yourself in, which is exactly what happened on that September afternoon. Walking along the coast amidst the shoreside villas, the dappled sun of a late summer morning glistening through the trees, it also offered a sense of hope. It was there for me when I ventured into the wider world again in early November, supplying a soundtrack to match the stunning vistas of a sunset over the endless fields of Southern England from the train window. When, at the end of the month, I embarked on a 2 week enormo-jaunt to check in with everyone again (because why have a sensible holiday when you can go on a mad adventure that could possibly trigger a relapse?) it was there too, instilling my first visit to Sheffield with a certain majesty as I gazed out over the city from the top of Park Hill.

All of that was well over three years ago, and yet even to this day listening to that song adds credence – as if further credence was ever needed – of just what a visual art form music can be. Listening to it on headphones in a dark room to this presents a swirling smorgasbord of mental images: the places where it's been there for me, the faces I was reunited with on that end-of-rest holiday, that sense of everything gradually returning to normality.

But for all its imagery and its sense of calm-inducing hopefulness, perhaps it offers something else. Sat here on a sunny morning, reflecting in the days immediately after the expiration of my young persons railcard (as useful a tool/ally in all those adventures as any) and with social media interactions with sundry pals from those days nestled snugly in various feeds, it offers a reminder that the best friendships blossom and endure irrespective of whether you make yourself ill trying to consolidate them.

.....

Gareth Ware has written for various publications, including musicOMH, DIY Magazine and London In Stereo. He can be found tweeting what's on his stereo as @musicismyradar

[whenthatsongplays]

Blink-182 - Man Overboard

By Dan Brown

…..

This song made me realise just how much Blink-182 meant tome. I distinctly remember being 15 years old and this playing in my bedroom. I had borrowed The Mark, Tom & Travis Show off a friend from school and after listening to that album and this song, Blink really became that band for me.

They were the catalyst that triggered my passion for music and opened the door to the world of rock music. Soon after I completely fell in love with the whole pop-punk genre, which went on to provide the sound track to my teenage years.

Blink-182 embodied my mind-set and how I felt at the time. Man Overboard in particular always brings back memories of skateboarding and messing about during the summer holidays. I recall getting my very first guitar and that feeling of pride when I managed to play that massive guitar riff which explodes 30 seconds into the song.

No matter what music I listen to now, Blink-182 wrote the songs which ignited my passion for music and I can safely say that no band has impacted me as significantly since.

…..

Dan Brown plays music as ‘upbeat-acoustic’ musician Macatier. Check out his Tumblr: www.macatier.tumblr.com  You can also follow him on Twitter as @Macatier

[whenthatsongplays]

Ash – A Life Less Ordinary

By Luke Barham

…..

Last weekend I belatedly got around to watching the much lorded Boyhood. I’ve been a huge fan of Richard Linklater since I saw Dazed & Confused when I was 13 and it blew my mind. For those who don’t know about Boyhood it follows a kid over 12 years of his life from child to young adult. Even more crazy is that they actually shot it over 12 years for real! It’s a strange feeling to see a period as formative as that condensed in to 2 and a half hour movie. It got me reflecting on my own childhood and early teens and in particular secondary school which is perhaps the most awkward period of any young person’s life.

If there was one band that sound tracked my high school years over all the others it was Ash. I saw them more than any other band clocking up many miles along the way. From getting someone’s Dad to be a chaperone to finally being old enough to travel up to London on our own, me and my friends truly loved this band. So I guess if I were to distill all of this in to one key song that can transport me in seconds it would be ‘A Life Less Ordinary’ From the opening few bars of picked guitars, I. Am. In. Back in the park at a party, Bluetones ringer t-shirt, Strongbow in hand and hanging out hopeful of a snog with my school crush.

I can trace my whole discovery of this song from reading in Melody Maker that the band were working on a tune for a film to news of Charlotte Hatherley joining from Night Nurse and then finally buying it. I can even remember where I was when I first saw a copy. We were in GCSE French lesson when Austin Mallon bowls in. He’s actually been to Our Price before school has started to ensure he has a copy. It gets passed around my friends before the teacher asks it to be put away as lesson is starting. We get a first glimpse of Charlotte on the inner sleeve. I can’t wait to get home and press play!

A Life Less Ordinary is Ash’s best song yet, everything we love about them times 10! The now four piece seem invincible. The B-sides are equally brilliant with my particular favorite being ‘Halloween’ which has just as strong a time machine effect on me as the A. Years later my own band play a festival in the Peak District appearing on the same bill as Ash. I excitedly shuffle to the front for their set and what a sucker punch they deliver! A Life Less Ordinary is the first song and I can’t help but stop tears from mounting. I try and explain to my younger girlfriend who wasn’t really party to Ash but fail. I guess I needed these 200 odd words! Emma, this is why I was emotional.  The sun is setting and time weighs heavy upon me. It’s a beautiful melancholic moment that I won’t forget; in fact I have now immortalized it in one of my own songs. Tim Wheeler will always be one of my biggest writing influences and A Life Less ordinary is his crowning glory.

…..

For 10 years Luke was the lead singer of Stagecoach. He now writes and performs as Uncle Luc and released his debut solo album Humblebrag last year. Luke also runs indie label Super Fan 99 and tweets as @Uncle__Luc

[whenthatsongplays]

Reuben – Words from Reuben

By Ryan Barham

…..

Growing up in Aldershot and being the only person in my school to seemingly care about ‘alternative’ music (I had shout-outs on the Evening Session twice during revision time and not one classmate heard either...), it was a tough time. But as soon as I turned 16 I discovered the cultural beacon that is the West End Centre – a well-established local venue run by people who shared my tastes and had a passion for bringing quality entertainment to the town, especially when it came to music. My first gig there was the Sneaker Pimps, but my love for the place really grew the first time I saw Reuben.

While watching a boring Chelsea v Nottingham Forest Reserves (I think!) game in 2001, my brother and I decided to leave early to catch a rare acoustic set by the three-piece at the Westy. We had already heard rumblings about how good this band were and how they were set to become everyone’s new favourite band – and there were a number of Reuben ‘0’ shirts making their mark in the local area. When we got to the Westy, there was barely any space to stand – even at the back.

Following the release of the ‘Pilot’ EP, Jamie Lenman’s powerhouse vocals filled the bar and you could just tell there was something special happening – even in stripped-down surroundings. It was drummer Mark Lawton’s last show with the band and he graciously handed over the sticks to Guy Davis. There was already a huge love between bands and fans and when Reuben played ‘Words from Reuben’, people were singing along loudly... The song would continue to be a highlight of their set in the 30+ times I saw Reuben until they ultimately called it a day. As they grew and wrote more incredible albums, they wouldn’t always play it – but that made its rare appearances at special Christmas shows etc even more appreciated. Jamie would pretty much always change the line ‘Hands up everyone who feels cheated’ to ‘Hands up everyone who’s having a good time’ and all you’d see were arms in the air and smiles on faces.

Now whenever I play Reuben, there’s always a sense of pride to have seen a band grow so much – and when I go back to the ‘Pilot’ EP and that bass line comes in for the second song in, it doesn’t fail to send shivers down my spine. Jamie Lenman sings: ‘I am always here for you’ and Reuben were. 

…..

Ryan is the man behind Spectral Nights – an alternative music blog covering music that deserves to be heard. www.spectralnights.com Also on Twitter as @spectralnights

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[whenthatsongplays]

Hot Chip - Boy from School

By Rob Morgan

…..

My son was born on 12th May 2006. He wasn't supposed to be that early, he wasn't due until early June. My wife had a routine check up on 11th May and we were shown around the maternity wards thinking we wouldn't need to be there for another few weeks. Then my wife had her check up and the doctors noticed her blood pressure was high and she was clammy. They advised us that she was suffering from pre-eclampsia and she was going nowhere. All our plans for the birth went out of the window; she was admitted immediately and hooked up to a host of machines to monitor both baby and mother. Gas and air were tried but weren't received well. Then around midnight all the monitors indicated that the baby was distressed and had an irregular heartbeat, so after not much thought, we were rushed into an operating theatre for a Caesarean. That would be the start of one of the strangest and hardest weeks of my life.

My son was born around 4 in the morning the next day, obviously a few weeks premature. Initially he seemed ok and everyone was more concerned about my wife whose blood pressure was sky high and suffering badly from the birth and the pre-eclampsia. We were moved into the maternity ward we had visited the day before around lunchtime and it was then that a midwife noticed that our son wasn't as responsive as he should be. After a quick test it was discovered that his blood sugar level had dropped dangerously and he was in serious danger. He was rushed into ICU in an incubator where he would remain for the next ten days.

Meanwhile my wife was moved into her own room and constantly monitored. It was a horrible week, I didn't know who to be more worried about - my son or my wife. Both looked exhausted, both were frail, both were in need of love and care. The staff at the hospital were great, I brought in some home comforts like a duvet from home to make my wife more comfortable, and I was allowed to visit whenever I wanted and stay as long as I needed to, often leaving the hospital around 11pm and returning there for 9am the next morning. Everyone was wonderful to us, the doctors and midwives and other staff. I deliberately avoided all music during this time as I didn't want any music to be associated with these memories. Every night I would spend the thirty minute walk from the hospital back home wondering what would happen next, would there be any improvement?

After over a week of worry both mother and baby improved and the family came home on the same day and then the real panic started. Soon I was on first name terms with the staff at my local branch of Mothercare as it became apparent that we weren't really ready for a baby to enter our lives. My wife was still ill, spending a lot of time sleeping, so I would be up and down with the baby, if he woke at 5am it was me taking him downstairs for a bottle to not disturb my wife.

So what do you do at five o clock in the morning with a baby feeding in your arms? I would sit next to the TV and flick through the channels on my Sky box. Even at that age my son responded to music - I would play him the second track from Global Communication's "74:16" album (the one with the ticking clock) to help him to sleep. And I would need some stimulus to keep myself awake at that ungodly hour. There was one music channel that was most odd, it showed a selection of videos for bands of any genre, and some amateur videos - there was one of a strange thin white rapper which looked like it was filmed for ten pence, lots of hoary rock acts, the bizarre Russian propaganda styled video for Blood Meridian by Hope Of The States, and one video - and song - which stood out.

It was the video which caught my attention first. It doesn't really make sense until the end, it all looks random for a few minutes. Band members lying on a bare floor singing the song, various artistic endeavours carried on - sand blown onto the floor with a remote control helicopter, bed sheets stained with powder, paints mixed up... What the hell is going on? Slowly it comes together, inflatable monsters are placed, band members gain Icarus wings, and as the song closes the main camera pulls back to reveal the five members of Hot Chip within a giant artwork around then, volcano glowing, monsters rising, it is like a giant Art Attack session. And then the video is over, until the same time, 5:30am the next day. I'd be there again, cradling my son to sleep, and watching this fascinating video. It bore repeated viewing, which was just as well, because each time I would pick up something new, a different aspect of the art scene.

After about three viewings of the video, I noticed the actual song. Boy from School had an electro base, not over compressed and thumping but strident enough, and the unison vocals brought to mind OMD or Squeeze. The words were enigmatic too, were they the boy from school themselves, and who was the girl? And that chorus - "We tried but we didn't have long, we tried but we don't belong". The first verse is memories from school, the second verse meeting up in the present day and realising nothing has changed, they still break rules, but still they try. At the song's end most of the electronic instrumentation drops out to leave a backdrop of what sounds like childrens' instruments - xylophones and chimes - and there's a moment of realisation - "I got lost, you said this was the way back?" - and for me the tears start to well up. A lot of thoughts were stirred - of the past and the future, a future with my family, a time to grow up, to face up to reality, to accept my responsibilities, I'm not at school any more, I'm an adult with a wife and child to look after, time to stop breaking rules. It probably wasn't the intention of the song, but that was my interpretation based on my circumstances.

From there I fell in love with Hot Chip and they have made many fine records since, but Boy from School is very special to me. It reminds me of that time, bonding with my son, caring for him and my wife, our own little family unit and all the hopes and fears for us all. And in the right frame of mind it can still bring a tear to my eye.

…..

Rob Morgan is a house husband in his forties living in South Wales. He writes about music at his blog A Goldfish Called Regret and can be found on Twitter as @Durutti74

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The Smiths - Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now

By Tom Jones-Berney

…..

September 2004, 35 degrees, not a cloud in the sky, outlooksunny. I arrive in Nottingham, wide eyed and excited beyond belief with two of my best friends, looking to find a job and make something of myself. I’ve finally given up cigarettes, drinking has been kerbed noticeably. I’m going to save money, get fit and work out how me and the love of my life, currently in a long distance relationship, are going to take it to the next step! Save up enough money to run a theme park for dogs, have kids and live in a space palace.

Four weeks later, and here I am.  A shell-shocked, crushed and quivering little manboy, flapping about helplessly on my bedroom floor like a dying fish. It’s over. A sticky grey film has descended from above and settled permanently over everything.  It’s tough to see anything mattering anymore. Except. Except, the sight of my sympathetic, totally understanding and nurturing two best friends, emerging all hazy in the morning through a booze and cigarette induced fog…makes me want to fucking throw up. 

So I do.

Everywhere. I flood the place.

* Fade out *

2. Oh look! Here comes Morrissey. Oh Morrissey, you Belial like fiend, floating through the world, like some lonely wretched wraith, a self-styled pariah, observing everything filtered pure through the maudlin gauze of your own black veil, swinging a half dead bunch of gladioli around your head like a noose, sucking positive energy from the atmosphere! Blaggard! Begone Morrissey, begone! 

Yes yes, I can hear you Morrissey! Happy in the haze of a drunken hour, and now you’re miserable right? Oh. Hang on. Looking for a job and then you found a job? Oh, and Heaven knows your miserable now eh?...wait a second. That sounds a bit like me. Coincidence surely. Two lovers entwined pass you by? Oh and this upsets you does it? Well-wait, what?!?! Yeah! Yeah, I find that too Morrissey! It’s almost as if the fuckers, in their countless numbers are suddenly being mass produced off some conveyor belt, clucking and cooing to only one another, oblivious of any other world outside of the one they’re creating for themselves. Oh, they’re so in love its painful Morrissey. I’m painfully miserable, you know? Seeing them is like a punch to the heart every time. Oh man, this job I got is horrid Morrissey! So bad. It’s almost funny in its own way. It’s kind of funny Moz isn’t it? Mind if I call you Moz? You wouldn’t find that vulgar would you? Of course not, it’s my fantasy, and you don’t. It’s funny that right here, right now, you’ve written exactly me, me exactly! I mean of course, your lyrics could apply to loads of people, anyone really, I wonder if anyone else feels like this about your songs? Not sure I smile at people I’d rather kick in the eye, but you’re just having a little joke there right? Hehe. You’re just amplifying your feelings, r-right? You know what. This song is actually making me feel a bit better, it makes me laugh you know? Was that your intention, should it? I always had you down as a miserable old cunt, but you know, I’ve been listening to more of your stuff since ‘Heaven’ and, well I find a lot of it very funny. It’s comforting to know you’re here Morrissey, you’re like a diary of all the feelings and thoughts I ever had, and it’s good I didn’t write them down, because you wrote them better than I ever could for myself. Thank you, Morrissey. I’ll always remember this, even if the song loses any impact over time. If only I could write something myself to put into words how important this song has been to me. Here, how about this: 

But don't forget the songs That made you smile And the songs that made you cry When you lay in awe On the bedroom floor                                        And said : "Oh, oh, smother me Mother..."  But don't forget the songs That made you cry And the songs that saved your life Yes, you're older now And you're a clever swine                              But they were the only ones who ever stood by you

Yeah yeah fine, that was you too.

…..

From an early age it was evident to Tom that he was destined for great things; the two paths that lay ahead of him being 'famous actor' or 'world renowned artist'. Tom has worked in the same contact centre for the past nine years. He is 33 years old. He starts driving lessons next week.

[whenthatsongplays]

Foo Fighters - Generator

By Chris Rogers

…..

Who'd have thought the most miserable and uncomfortable 48 hours of my life could bring back such happy memories?

I can't remember the exact date, but it must be nearly 15 years to the day - it was definitely 2000, and the frozen condensation I can so clearly recall on the inside of my bedroom window had that distinctly bitter February feel about it.

I was cooped up in my halls of residence room in Southampton, and I was suffering with the worst chest infection I've ever had. I'd got through the week, just, but decided I'd stay in bed for most of the weekend and sweat it out. And boy did I sweat.

I couldn't raise the energy to get out of bed. In fact, it was hard even to muster up enough strength to turn over. I barely slept and, despite it being the coldest snap of the winter, I was at boiling point.

The 'sweat it out' technique failed miserably, and in the end it took a visit to the doctor and a course of antibiotics to shift it. The misery of that weekend was a feeling I hoped I'd never experience again.

Fast forward 15 years, to a few weeks ago. I was out running with my iPod on shuffle, and I've never had such a vivid flashback as I did when Generator by the Foo Fighters came on. It took me completely by surprise, almost as if it had smacked me in the face. I was back in my sick bed.

There are so many tracks I know I can rely on to take me back to a special time or place, but I can't remember the last time a song sneaked up on me in such a way and caught me so completely off guard.

Generator is an album track on the Foo Fighters' third release There Is Nothing Left To Lose. It's certainly not a stand-out, and it's not one I ever associated with any great nostalgia.

But there I was, back in that bed. It all felt so real. I could feel the aches and pains as I lay on my back. I could look around the room, picking out the CDs and videos one by one on my shelf. I could feel the duvet, and even recall the colours and design. I could feel the sweat-soaked bed sheet stuck to my back. I could even tilt my head back and watch the condensation trickling down the inside of the window, as it thawed from the freezing cold of night.

I could smell the room too. Smell it! Well not the room so much - I dread to think how that smelt - but the usual whiff of our floor in the halls of residence. For the record, that smell was 90% burned toast and 10% Super Noodles (an attempt had probably been made to boil them in a kettle, knowing one of my housemates).

Why now? Why I am I back here? Well, I'd bought Nothing Left To Lose from HMV in Southampton with some Christmas vouchers I'd received. I was playing the CD quite a lot, even though it didn't live up to the quite outstanding The Colour and the Shape album.

I would have played it a lot that weekend. Energy was at a premium, so getting out of bed to change CDs was a hassle I could well do without.

I never singled out Generator as one of my favourite songs on the album, but maybe its unique guitar sound with the use of that Peter Frampton-esque voice box made it stand out in my subconscious.

Admittedly I've painted a pretty gloomy picture of that weekend, so why the fond memories? Quite simply, it took me back to the best years of my life.

There is one fundamental difference between the 20-year-old me in 2000 and the 35-year-old me that is sitting here writing this. Back then, I loved life. Now, I don't.

I had the best and most fun years of my life between the ages of 17 and 23. I know I'm not alone there. Everything was new, I'd met the best group of friends you could wish for, and there were laughs and adventures every day, around every corner. People were great, and lifelong memories were being made on an almost daily basis.

Nowadays, I'm far more cynical. I don't like people. I detest the way they only think of themselves, I hate their rudeness and aggression, and I resent them for taking away everything I used to love about life.

Yes, I know I'm generalising, but that's just how I feel. For the past three or four years I've faced a constant battle to suppress feelings of anxiety and depression - which, for the most part, I have done successfully - but I'm convinced these feelings are the underlying cause of that struggle.

Music and running have been the two key remedies in keeping me on top of it, and they combined spectacularly during that morning jog to remind me just how powerful songs can be.

Sure, it reminded me of an uncomfortable time. But far more important than that, it reminded me of how eager I was to get better as quickly as possible and get back out there. I felt that hunger and lust for life I used to have, and man did it feel good.

…..

Chris Rogers can be found on Twitter as @chrisrogers731

[whenthatsongplays]

Noel Gallagher – A Simple Game of Genius

By Jim Auton

…..

This song took on a meaning to me during the early part of my relationship with my future wife-to-be. A six month period, give or take, of to-ing and fro-ing, coming and going. I would stay at her flat and walk home in the morning when she went to work and listen to this song. I was waiting for her to decide if she wanted to be with me.

There had been and still was someone else on the scene who she had been with and then split up from and then gotten back together, and during the fro-ing between us, she had gone back to him, but it didn’t last long and they would split up and she would call me.

The lyrics said exactly how I was feeling at the time “If you don’t make up your mind, how can I drift away”.

I needed her to decide.

As Noel puts it in the bridge before the chorus “Dream of all of the love you made, it’s there in your kaleidoscope eyes, all my life, and all that I’ve ever had lies waiting here for you”  That was how I was feeling.

I think I always knew we would end up together, but the in-between bits were difficult, but not just for me, and that’s why I stuck around. I had people telling me I shouldn’t keep taking her back, but that was easier said than done. I had come out of a nine year relationship 18 months before I met her, I was going to be getting married but that fell apart and I believed when I met her that there was finally a reason for that. That I hadn’t wasted 10 years of my life, but it was leading up to this, and I was proven right.

Check it out. It’s an anthemic masterpiece from the king of the anthem.

…..

Jim Auton tweets as @thejabberwocky6 and blogs at Back To The Vinyl

[whenthatsongplays]

DJ Marky & XRS Featuring Stamina MC ‎– LK

By Anonymous

…..

Thissong came out round about the time I did my A Levels and I thought I was the first one to discover drinking and clubs. Obviously in the real world I was totally not as grown-up as I thought I was.

This song was really big at the time and as it straddled the line between drum and bass (music that I told people I liked) and jumpy pop (music I actually listened to) so I immediately got myself a copy and listened to it on repeat. However there is one occasion that always springs to mind as soon as I hear the opening beats.

When my friend announced one day at lunch that she was a lesbian I was surprised - she’d never given any indication that that might be the case. The summer before, aged 17, she had developed a mild amphetamine addiction and got engaged and dis-engaged to a guy she’d met in a Wetherspoons, so it was a turbulent time. I thought she was the coolest person ever so when she asked me if I wanted to meet her girlfriend, keen to show how liberal I was, I immediately said yes. We agreed that we would bunk off school the next afternoon and go into town and meet her.

You can imagine my surprise when the next day my blonde, petite teenage friend introduced me to her actual, real life Prison Warden, in her forties, hairy-handed, shaven-headed lady-friend the next day. I think that was the only time I've ever drank a full pint of Guinness and it was only because they both did. We then went back to the Prison Warden’s flat, where another (equally intimidating) lady arrived.

Within about 15 minutes of being at this flat my friend and her lover disappeared, leaving me alone with the terrifying stranger who pulled out a lot of drugs and got pretty wired, pretty quickly. She started talking to me a lot, mainly about things I didn’t understand. I was totally out of my depth - it was 2pm on a Tuesday, I was in my school uniform, and I really really wanted to go home. I thought about crying or just running out. But then she asked me what music I liked and obviously eager to show my street cred I said “drum and bass”. She said that was cool. I then remembered my single in my school bag and she put that on the stereo VERY LOUDLY. She loved it.  I think it had about 3 remixes of the same song on it and we just listened to them over and over again in silence until finally it was time to leave. She asked if she could borrow it and even though I loved it I was too petrified to say no. Obviously I never got it back.

The next day my friend told me her girlfriend and her friend thought I was “sound”. I remember being pretty pleased with that.

…..

This post is anonymous as the writer's friend is now happily married to a man, who may or may not know the details of this story.

[whenthatsongplays]

Dawn Penn - You Don't Love Me (No, no, no)

By Carey Frances

…..

It's 1994 and a young toddler version of myself is happily sat on a swing singing the only few lines I knew. 

'No, no, no- you don't love me and I know now.'

This went on relentlessly for about a month. Even when I wasn't singing, I could always rely on the CD that was bought from Woolworths as an attempt to sate the ear worm. To everyone's dismay, the CD or the singing never stopped. 

My Dad was a keen collector of Trojan/Front Line records (before us kids made him skint) and had for some time tried to imprint his love of Jamaican music onto me - see it as a passing on of the baton if you like. So far, nothing struck a chord and I was becoming a typical pop-music loving child. 

As he finally resigned to the fact that maybe, just maybe, we weren't going to bond over music in these tender years, we found a song that stuck. Dawn Penn was instrumental in cementing the relationship we would go on to grow. From there, my ears were more open and willing to his vinyl collection. 

Dawn Penn's single would later lead to both of us ditching work/school to hit King B records or sneak off on Saturday's into town to buy CDs. In the years since, I've poured over his music collections and also added my own to it. 

Even as I write this, I'm sat in an old Trojan Records t-shirt. 

Dawn Penn is my first memory of a song and being attached to music. I still have that CD, although I might play it less now.

…..

Carey Frances can be found on Twitter as @CareyHadgraft

  ����`)

[whenthatsongplays]

Frédéric Chopin – Funeral March

By Rhys Thomas

…..

I don't know the exact year but at a guess I'd go all the way back to about 1991 and a class weekend away to a building in mid Wales called Cwrt-Y-Cadno which was owned by a local school.

All the boys in our class were big wrestling fans at the time and we all collected and swapped WWF trading cards and most of the time we spent in our bedroom was taken up trying to make deals with each other in attempts to complete our respective collections and discussing the strengths and weaknesses of each wrestler. We all had our favourites; Brett 'The Hitman' Hart was popular and one guy was into Rowdy Roddy Piper but me and my friend were huge fans of The Undertaker.

One evening we all went for a walk through the country lanes and me and my friend were the stragglers of the class as we were imitating The Undertaker’s slow methodical walk whilst humming his theme music which, back in his early days, when Kid Rock was still Baby Rock and Limp Bizkit were more like Solid Ruskz, was Jim Johnston's Funeral March which is based around the the Chopin piece of the same name.

Every now and then we'd have to speed up to keep the rest of the class in view but it wasn't long before we were slowly marching again. It's probably a result of our mindset at the time but the only building I remember passing was an old churchyard but we must have passed more buildings that that, there isn't much in Cwrt-Y-Cadno but it’s not that small.

I guess to most people the Funeral March brings back sad memories or even morbid thoughts but to me its memories of the only class trip I think I ever enjoyed and a time when my love of wrestling was shared by my friends, a time when my encyclopaedic knowledge of wrestling was seen as a cool thing and not something that makes people roll their eyes, scrunch up their nose, curl their upper lip and ask "You know it’s all fake, don't you?" like they are trying to break this news gently to me.

…..

Rhys tweets as @Archarwr and writes about wrestlers in film at Wrestling at The Movies

[whenthatsongplays]

Seafood - We Felt Maroon

By Liam

.....

This song is the reason I got together with my first girlfriend.

I was 17 and sat in my parents’ bedroom talking to a girl from school onthe landline. After a long and awkward conversation, it felt like things weregoing nowhere so I was just about to hang up. 

Then in the background at her end, I heard an acoustic song with a thin, relatively high, male voice and instead of hanging up, I asked who it was. It was Seafood and that was the spark that was needed to resuscitate the conversation and subsequently get us together. Two and a half years we then spent together and all because of Seafood.

Anyway, time moves fast and it’s now well over ten years since I last saw the aforementioned girlfriend and Seafood sadly are no more. However, when I look back over my life and I pin point the big choices I’ve made and trace back situations and decisions - specific visits overseas, decisions to move places, the people I’ve then met as a result of that - somewhere along the way it always comes back to this song and that particular moment was played in the proximity of a phone. 

.....

Liam set up and edits When that song plays… as well as the 1p Album Club. He also co-runs the fledgling niche label, The Lost Music Club. None of these things make money, so he spends his days in an office. A version of this was originally posted as part of this 1p Album Club post.

[whenthatsongplays]

Third Eye Blind - Semi-Charmed Life

By Chris Jenkins

.....

This song takes me back to living in Hong Kong aged 18 with a bunch of other young Brits and Canadians, there under the pretense of 'teaching' English. Needless to say we took full advantage of all that the ESL lifestyle had to offer. 

This song takes me back to a weekend trip into southern China organised by the exasperated heads of our employers. I think the trip was meant to be educational.

The song was sung many times on our coach at high volume, but it really takes me back to one particular moment. A moment when the coach had to make an unscheduled stop to let my friend off who needed to 'evacuate' himself quite urgently. My abiding memory is of this song as the whole coach watched in amusement and confusion as he was shown to a family's toilet by a group of equally bemused local people. It was like he bridged the gap between these two worlds. Through the coach windows he looked like an amusing creature in a zoo, but you could probably say the same about us from the other perspective. Anyway, this song just brings back good times for me.

...