BEATS OF LOVE

31. Le Coup D'Abalone (Instrumental) by Double Jeu 

BUYING FROM Cosmic Dudes was always an event. The pair sold sparingly, records that were often unavailable elsewhere on-line, and you had to wait a while. Until finally, one never showed up at all. One half of the partnership Mitch posted on DJH about the tragedy surrounding its demise, explaining why his records never showed up.  

The other half, Charles Bals, began selling online again with Psychemagik's Danny Mclewin on their Beach Freaks website. I bought a real woozy gem of an album off them, but much of their stock is over my price radar. However, the relationship was far from fruitless for me as 2 glorious compilations have been released on the mighty Spacetalk label, which really does mark Bals out as the finest of curators. 

To say this record is championed by him would be stretching it. He's currently selling a copy and has added the words 'Deep coastal ambient rock on the instrumental (small sticker on label)' which was enough for me to part with 6 quid. I bought it from a UK seller in NM and when it arrived, I predictably went straight to the B-side. 

As there is no other resource, I would just add that it also has that necessary throb that's so integral when determining whether a record is worth it or not. This is certainly worth it. An under the radar synth-pop gem from a band that went on to make under the radar Zouk albums. It's a belated Christmas present from me to me and a lot more satisfying than the sickly sweet Belgium Truffles my gaffer gave me. 

In a year when I bought my first leather jacket in over 34 years then completely lost my libido, it's the best of things, a punt that pays off. Happy New Year!  

BEATS OF LOVE

30. Young Parisians by Adam and the Ants

AS I type more and more peers are doing their end-of-year music appraisals. Generally speaking, to a dozen likes and a couple of comments. I think this time of year we sit back and reminisce much further back and ask ourselves whether Christmas actually once meant more to us than it does now. 

I recall my happiest Christmas was spent in 1981, crouched over the family stereo playing and re-playing every Adam and the Ants LP and single over and over. This went on until my father finally finished work over a week later to join us all. He soon put a curfew on it, so I then went out for the first time that school holiday and bought the biggest cards in Shaw for everyone before learning the adage less is more. 

That summer I went around the corner to a friend of a friend's house who was mad keen on boxing. I put on his red gloves and proceeded to get punched and punched and punched again. Luckily, after feeling frightened and nauseous, we sat down in his folk's living room and he put Dirk Wears White Sox on the stereo. I sat open-mouthed and really jealous because he had something I wanted. The fetishistic imagery went clean over my head, but I instinctively knew it was taboo. At least in my house. He then threw me back the boxing gloves, and I proceeded to run out of his house, never to return. 

Thankfully, after saving my holiday money on the drive back from Anglesey, I finally found a store that had a copy in stock. It had, up to that point, been a truly dreadful holiday. The highlight of which was sitting in my father's Capri listening to the top 40. Until it started swaying. Fortunately, before the locals could drag me out, I managed to wind up the windows and lock all the doors until my hapless father finally turned up to rescue me. He was furious about the scratches on his car.   

He was as furious when coming home from Christmas Day Mass, I knelt down and started playing my Ant collection. Everyone was ready to go to my Grandparents but as would often be the case in nightclubs a decade later, I screamed 'just one more' and played this. 

The song's simple structure belies the fact that Adam's lyrics were always adroit. Its provocative line may have escaped me, but not my father. It still smells more punk than a lot more noisy records made around that time. And still makes me smile listening to it. My Grandma did put my bloody great big card up in pride of place but I still wanted to leave that year and return home to my Ant collection. Not long after, my father upgraded his stereo and gave me my most prized possession. Largely to confine the noise, I guess. 

So, in answer to my question, the answer is no. Christmas never did mean more to us. At least those of us that are armed with a lot of records.  

 

  

BEATS OF LOVE

29. Tengo Amore by Michael Nesmith & The First National Band 

POSSIBLY, MY generation's greatest achievement is making the Monkees cool. Record digging at Oldham's record fair on Egerton Street on a Sunday in the late 80s was always exciting, but my greatest heist was blagging their entire back catalogue for a tenner in NM condition. Excluding Head. The seller was a serious rock collector and his lofty disdain led him to put them in a crate on the floor next to the Wurzels.    

They may have also landed me my first job too as my future boss asked me whether I liked it on the rock n' roll and I replied enthusiastically 'a bit, I wake up and watch the Monkees then do a bit of study then watch Going for Gold.' Then again, it might also have been Henry Kelly. 

However, it was when I heard Missing Links that Mike Nesmith usurped Mickey Dolenz and became another musical obsession of sorts. File next to the Cosmic country of Gram Parsons and you're nearly there. Parsons had a better voice, but Nesmith crafted finer songs with tighter musicians. An utter genius, basically. 

This song was on an LP that I had the good sense to buy from the Corn Exchange stalls and play incessantly. During my second breakdown when I was sleeping 16 hours a day, it probably was more important to my recovery than food. When you're in a big hole and shouting for help, it's too easy for folk to pretend not to hear. I finally realized I had to dig myself out. Luckily, as soon as I picked up the spade, my family started digging with me.

I eventually summoned some strength to face work again, but they'd only gone and installed a bloody radio on every floor. Blurting out late 90s commercial rubbish. I ran off floor 8 and collapsed in a bucket of tears because of it. And because my head was still a bit fucked. Rather than send me home, I instead had a heart to heart with my boss and told her I was bedding down in my aunt's house to save for a deposit but was finding everything extremely difficult. To my surprise, she magicked some overtime for me and I was finally able to turn the page in my life that had been stuck for so long.

I owe Mike Nesmith a deep debt of gratitude too for keeping me alive in those darkest of days. Sleep well, your magical music will live on forever.   

   

BEATS OF LOVE 

28. Love is the Message (Philadelphia Mix) by Love Inc featuring MC Noise

THE KEY difference between Lennon and me is I'm not God. He famously made lyrics up to rock'n'roll songs, whereas in my total obscurity, I just misheard lyrics through the haze of night-clubs. I could recount the times forever, but a couple of examples occurred during my evangelical phase.  

I must've had a convict mentality coz when Love Decade's Dream On got played, I'd rush to the floor shouting 'Prisoners are Free!' in my head. Similarly, when Greg Fenton blew my mind playing Tony Rallo & the Midnite Band's Holdin On, I thought the lyrics were 'All Day Long Working on the Chain.' 

Subsequently, I only bought it years later when Mark Luvdup played it and kindly gave me a random CD, then scrawled the title in marker pen. He second guessed I would forget all about it during the course of the day and night and day, so would need a subtle reminder. I wish more people were like Mark.  

Lennon would've been as confused by 1991 as me. For a few short weeks, metaphysical walls came tumbling down and Lee's bug-eyed enthusiasm for  Shelly's was every bit as relevant as my own escapades. Proper working-class heroes. Whereas I was feeling incarcerated at work on a Monday morning after massively over-doing it, he was still shuffling about. 

This tune really hit the spot for us both and even Lennon would approve of its sentiment. Black Box's  Daniele Davoli's rolling piano lines, MC Noise rapping coherently and brilliantly so even an idiot like me can understand, over pulsating synth stabs, and everybody in the place very high on hope. Enough said. In fact, by Thursday, nobody was higher than us two that summer. Nobody.

When Lee's band N-Trance hit the big time in 94, I asked him to guest DJ and play some Detroit techno. I thought it was a genius idea, showing off a more serious side. 'Sure,' he said. When he did, he proceeded to play happy piano tunes for an hour. I should've fucking known coz all he talked about was dancing and Sasha. 

Unsurprisingly, I last saw him in the line-up on an episode of Never Mind The Buzzcocks shuffling about and smiling. Good on him.     

     

BEATS OF LOVE

27.  Love Is by Martini

ANTICIPATION USED to be a regular feature of record buying. I recall the excited walk to Golden Disc buying Adam and the Ant's latest releases. If I was lucky and it was in stock, I then faced the tough decision of whether to buy a picture disc or poster pack. If I was unlucky, it was a long walk home. 

Or the ooh ahh when the Roses Second Coming LP was finally released after a 5 year wait. You could barely move around HMV to buy it on a cold and wet December evening, and when I finally got it home, the label was miss-pressed. It still span but looked unsightly and sounded more than a little disappointing. Love Spreads was the best tune on it. 

I've not anticipated much this year, but this has given me a proper itch. I nearly ordered one from the States a few months ago, but luckily I held back. It's another reissue so doesn't really feel exciting to hold but thankfully it has been mastered properly so sounds exciting. Marco Gegenheimer has been credited with bringing this light touch stepper to a wider audience so deserves a hearty thank you. Light touch, but majestic. Hats off also to the slightly mysterious Death on Wax for reissuing it. Not seen a label sell a tee after one release before. Next week I will be dipping into the remixes. 

As I only heard of it through the usual channels, I saw the eye-watering prices and just settled on this reissue. Then the itching started, and the waiting began. And then summer came and went and then Autumn. I'm so glad it has finally materialized.  

I now have this on repeat coz it is a magical medicine for my soul that has been through an intensely troubled time of late. Recommended is a massive understatement.