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BEATS OF LOVE

70. Cold Blooded Love by Thee Hypnotics

READING GEORGE Orwell's Diaries has been illuminating. 

Other than more cleanliness, the conditions that define today's society are pretty much unchanged. The false dominant narratives propagated by the right wing press still cut through, and wage slavery is still the norm. What surprises is the man behind the persona. A man who passionately loves gardening. A man we wouldn't know existed had he lived to write his autobiography and burn his diaries. 

He despised the artificiality of mass consumerism, yet carefully cultivated a public image to market himself, a paradox that is nearly impossible to escape. We all do it, particularly musicians and those of us shaped by them. Thee Hypnotics were a formidable live rock act whom I saw twice, but their obsession with Iggy Pop and the MC5 ultimately reduced their image to something derivative and dated. In 1991, legendary producer John Leckie, still weathering the fallout from working on Lawrence's magnum opus, produced their second studio album. I was entirely unaware of this. Reflecting on the period, frontman Jim Jones told Shindig :

"In the past, I’d said to people, ‘You know that BIG Phil Spector reverb… well….’ and they’d give you a tiny bit. When I said this to John he swamped the album in it…. woahhhh. He’s a proper producer.”

Forgiving bands a retro or naff public image and instead evaluating the music as a separate entity gets to the essence of what Balearic Beat is all about. Leaving no stone unturned to unearth woozy music with warmth. Music a bit like this. 

Ignore the title and get lost in the earthy organ, then let those seductive slide guitar motifs work their magic. There's even a female backing singer low down in the narcotic mix too. It feels pretty epic, but in truth isn't all that long, and marks a quantum leap for a band totally unrelated to the word lounging. 

Ultimately, Orwell and Thee Hypnotics shared the same dilemma: navigating the gap between public image and private truth. While society remains as shackled by fake narratives and wage slavery as it was in the 1930s, this track offers the ultimate escape hatch. By ignoring the band's retro posturing and letting the music exist as its own entity, you find the exact warmth and depth the Balearic spirit searches for. It is a magnificent, narcotic way to kill time in the 21st century.