Every now and then Facebook will throw
up a new trend that everyone simply has to get involved in. There
were some horrors, the one where everyone started a cartoon version
of themselves, the ice bucket challenge, where what started as a fun
way of raising money and awareness lead to teenagers literally
breaking their necks (if there's a better metaphor for social media
I'd like to hear it). The latest one is people posting a photo of one
of their favourite albums with 'no reason to explain' and then one
was supposed to 'nominate' someone else and the loop would go on and
on.
This rubbed me up the wrong way for two
reasons. One, what's wrong with, you know, writing about art that
means something to you and two, how do you pick? Records and songs
are like kisses to me. Some are better than others but they all mean
something and equally special for different reasons.
Some records to stick with you forever,
however. Whilst The Smiths dominated my twenties, Let's Get Out Of
This Country by Camera Obscura was and is, by country mile, the most
important LP of my thirties. I discovered it in 2006, I was on a
Teenage Fanclub message board (remember those?), and asked the board
elders to recommend some new music. Someone posted a JPEG of the
sleeve, no further information. My curiosity must have been piqued,
as the very next day I found myself on a train back from Manchester
cradling the record. It was well worth the investment, it's an
astonishing album. It was also like a gateway drug, a gateway to
other message boards, other bands and other people. Indiepop was just
about to hit it's absolute peak, and I just about found myself in the
right place and the right time. Everything was exciting all of a
sudden, there seemed to be a new gig or a new band or a new records
to excited about on a weekly basis. It was a thrilling time. Then my
dad died.
I'll not dwell on here about his death
as I've already written about it on this blog, I've also written
about the personal aftermath, but some of that, for context, bears
repeating. I'll keep it to a minimum, not through shame (it's our
duty normalise anxiety and issues of mental well being) but because I
don't really want to re-tar roads already covered (I once got
politely but firmly bollocked for writing too personally on the
internet by Tjinder Singh. True Story).
SO: My dad died and for about six
months I was a bit of a mess. Confused, isolated, withdrawn, angry
and with a worrying dependency on the drink. Things came to head when
I found myself on my own reading a book in the dim light of an awful
nightclub. It was around my thirteenth pint of Guinness when it
dawned on me this had to stop. I found myself talking every week to a
lovely grief counsellor called Marilyn who got me off the drink and
back to communicating. “What do you enjoy? What makes you happy?”
she asked. “Music and writing I replied” “Well do that then”
she said. This seemed like good advice.
So I started writing this here blog,
which started as three line posts about what excited me then grew and
grew (you're reading my 200th post) and started me
communicating with the outside world. I started to finally leave my
bedroom to got to gigs. Like a talisman, Camera Obscura were touring
a fair bit and I went to see them in pretty much every city in the
country. These were great day, possibly the band and their peak. The
familiarity and comfort in clapping in time to Come Back Margaret,
knowing the band had a good gig because they had refrain of Call Me
Al in Lets Get Out Of This Country and the melting heartache of the
fade of Razzle Dazzle Rose which meant it was time to go home.
It was a world of support bands, merch
tables, set lists and pints of coke in plastic pint glasses but it
still seemed like I was slowly getting back in touch with the real
world and starting to feel like me again. Music has the power and
ability to that. I even started talking to other human beings. One
guy recommended a night called Kissing Just For Practise, a Belle and
Sebastian disco run by a lad called Jamie in Manchester. I went and
it was that night, talking to strangers from Leeds about Comet Gain
and The Clientèle, dancing and laughing, that I felt like my old
self again. I even, inspired by the evening, daydreamed about
starting a club night myself. There was always a gig, always new
friends to meet. I went to a Tender Trap gig in Manchester which was
great, but what really caught my imagination was the DJ playing
Sensitive by the Field Mice and people actually dancing. Wow. The
thoughts of club night started to solidify from liquid form to
something more tangible and touchable. I went to thank the DJ's, Kev
and Linda for their amazing set and they in turn thanked me for
coming and we must have stood for twenty minutes smiling, chatting
and shaking hands. Them were good days.
Eventually I started to go to less and
less Camera Obscura gigs, not because I went off them but because my
life had slowly returned to normal (for which I owe them a great
debt) and other things and other people became important again. They
still stayed in my life obviously. Someone who knew someone who
worked at the NME sent me a hooky promo copy of My Maudlin Career,
which excited me to the degree that on release I bought it on vinyl
and CD so I could play it on the decrepit CD player at work. I went
to see them at the occasional gig, much much bigger gigs now, but no
less wonderful. I even got to start a club night with my pal John
Kertland. Just Like Honey ran for five amazing years, leading to
playing at the Indietracks festival (playing Hey Lloyd and the intro
causing people to stampede into the tent sending arms, legs, smiles
and dust flying is one my favourite memories ever), a festival where
I saw Camera Obscura head line the year before. It would be the last
time I would see them play.
The news of Carey Landers passing was
devastating. Carey had succumbed to Sarcoma, a very rare and to my
mind very cruel type of bone cancer. It has taken the brightest, most
beautiful and most caring person away from us. Right to the end,
Carey was raising awareness and money for research into Sarcoma.
On the 14th of July at the
Star and Garter in Manchester we will be holding a Camera Obscura
disco, playing between the best CO tunes the greatest Scottish pop.
DJ's for the evening will be myself, Kev and Linda and Jamie. All
money raised will go to Sarcoma research. It's going to be an amazing
evening and we hope to see you there. Xxx
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