Sock Free Hideaway

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.