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we are old, we are young, we are in this together
Friday, 27 February 2009 07:28 amThe last year is really the first time in my life I've had anything resembling disposable income, as a direct result of which my CD collection has joyously tripled and my DVD stash has multiplied out by a factor of 10 at least. One of the main things I've been doing, music-wise, apart from madly discovering new bands in all directions and indulging my Bowie obsession, is to gradually replace all the music I used to listen to when I was in my 20s and which I own only on poor-quality cassette or bootleg tape. (You may have noticed the Eurythmics phase a couple of months ago). This week: New Model Army. I have No Rest For the Wicked, Ghost of Cain and Thunder and Consolation on rotation. I'd forgotten how layered and diverse they can be, under all the punk sensibility and acoustic ballading, but mostly it's all making me feel happily 18.
Music is very weird in its ability to appeal not just on aesthetic or technical or even emotional grounds, but purely in terms of association. I have this huge problem with 80s pop cheese: most of it is extremely drecky, but certain songs which were current in my teen years plug directly into some vital region of my amygdala to result in shameless, spontaneous grinning and rhythmic wriggling. (For some reason "We Built This City on Rock And Roll" does it every time, which is embarrassing - I think it might be from listening to Radio 5 when I was in undergrad). It's all about who you were at the time, who you were with when a particular song was current - one of my favourite bits of cinema ever is the bit in High Fidelity with Rob rearranging his record collection autobiographically. I've retained a fondness for the Eurythmics partly because I was introduced to them when I was still at school by a boy on whom I had a horrible crush, and I still have very vivid memories of the afternoons I spent listening to records with him.
New Model Army is a bit dodgy because one of the things I associate with it is the Bastard Ex-Boyfriend From Hell, but I also remember nightclubs and parties and good friends who weren't the BEBFH, and fortunately those associations seem to be prevailing. (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wytchfynder used to listen to NMA, in fact I still have a cassette of Ghost of Cain he gave me). God, I remember headbanging to NMA at the late lamented Playground, the CT goth haunt of choice in the early 90s, and occasionally at the Fringe. (Remember the Fringe? Alternative and reggae: it had a clientele who separated sharply into two camps, which used to nod at each other in passing as they surged on and off the dance floor while the DJ, possibly mischievously, alternated the two schools). Those were formative years, those were. It's almost magical, that you can stick a CD in the drive and sketch, with considerable urgency and vitality, the salient points of your own history.
Of course, all this is making me realise that I really need to replace the sound system in my car, which was nicked a couple of years ago. I'm heading off up into the Elgin area this weekend for Mike and Nikki's wedding, and while I thoroughly enjoy the hour's drive, it would be better for some music. But Mike, of course, dates from precisely the era I've been talking about, I shared digs with him in my Honours year. He's mad about Depeche Mode. I must acquire some Depeche Mode.
Music is very weird in its ability to appeal not just on aesthetic or technical or even emotional grounds, but purely in terms of association. I have this huge problem with 80s pop cheese: most of it is extremely drecky, but certain songs which were current in my teen years plug directly into some vital region of my amygdala to result in shameless, spontaneous grinning and rhythmic wriggling. (For some reason "We Built This City on Rock And Roll" does it every time, which is embarrassing - I think it might be from listening to Radio 5 when I was in undergrad). It's all about who you were at the time, who you were with when a particular song was current - one of my favourite bits of cinema ever is the bit in High Fidelity with Rob rearranging his record collection autobiographically. I've retained a fondness for the Eurythmics partly because I was introduced to them when I was still at school by a boy on whom I had a horrible crush, and I still have very vivid memories of the afternoons I spent listening to records with him.
New Model Army is a bit dodgy because one of the things I associate with it is the Bastard Ex-Boyfriend From Hell, but I also remember nightclubs and parties and good friends who weren't the BEBFH, and fortunately those associations seem to be prevailing. (
wytchfynder used to listen to NMA, in fact I still have a cassette of Ghost of Cain he gave me). God, I remember headbanging to NMA at the late lamented Playground, the CT goth haunt of choice in the early 90s, and occasionally at the Fringe. (Remember the Fringe? Alternative and reggae: it had a clientele who separated sharply into two camps, which used to nod at each other in passing as they surged on and off the dance floor while the DJ, possibly mischievously, alternated the two schools). Those were formative years, those were. It's almost magical, that you can stick a CD in the drive and sketch, with considerable urgency and vitality, the salient points of your own history. Of course, all this is making me realise that I really need to replace the sound system in my car, which was nicked a couple of years ago. I'm heading off up into the Elgin area this weekend for Mike and Nikki's wedding, and while I thoroughly enjoy the hour's drive, it would be better for some music. But Mike, of course, dates from precisely the era I've been talking about, I shared digs with him in my Honours year. He's mad about Depeche Mode. I must acquire some Depeche Mode.
