BEATS OF LOVE 

82. Vanishing Point by New Order

I STILL remember Peter Hook sending me a Facebook friend request and thinking he must be a remarkably subpar DJ.

His latest venture, Hacienda Gin, looks equally underwhelming. It slightly irks me that the two bands most synonymous with his name remain the most celebrated among my peers. They had their moments, but they were ultimately fashion victims. Still, credit where it’s due: his heavy, concrete-slab bass style is perhaps the most distinctive in post-punk, testament to a man who looked and carried himself like a welder but undeniably gave their sound its edge.

I fell in love with Low-Life but struggled with everything that followed. Gillian Gilbert deserves credit for steering them away from the dark, insular introspection that fuelled their mythology, guiding them toward a more vibrant, radio-friendly synth-pop. I absolutely loathed True Faith, their first blatant compromise for airplay, because it felt far too obvious, rendering Hook’s singular bass entirely pointless. By the time Technique arrived, the band had fully surrendered to the pulsating electronic beats that made his bass redundant. More importantly, so had the audience.

This track, however, is the magnificent exception. Like some monolithic relic, Hook wields his semi-redundant bass like an early agrarian farmer with a scythe, playing as if he’s unsure there will ever be another meaningful moment. Meanwhile, the rest of the band looks transported to Ibiza, armed with innovative technology. The contrast is spectacular.

It takes me back to seeing them perform it at Reading in 1989 under a torrential downpour, where we tried to surrender to their dynamism as if we were still in Manchester, though, from where I stood, The Sugarcubes went down better. Unlike True Faith, this track is afforded the space to breathe. The open air heightens the contrasts, lends weight to the lyrics, and makes the cumulative effect dizzying and overpowering. New Order never came close to recapturing this brilliance. 

Hook’s subsequent greed ensured they never would. Had he not snidely bought up the Hacienda trademark rights in 2001, he might still share a stage with his old bandmates rather than nursing a bitter, decades-long grudge. Instead, we're left with a shattered legacy, a fractured working relationship, and a bottle of underwhelming gin.

  

BEATS OF LOVE 

81. You're Gonna Need Me by Dionne Warwicke

I OWE a massive debt of gratitude to Lawrence. Not only did he introduce me to the mighty Peddlers, but he inadvertently turned me onto the discount racks and charity shops where I first unearthed their music.

Back then, digging through those bins was just a cheap, rewarding pastime. But when Fat City opened its doors in Afflecks, everything changed; many of the exact records I’d been scoring for pennies suddenly reappeared in their "breaks" section with heavily inflated price tags. What started as an affordable obsession was rapidly becoming a costly habit.

Growing up, Dionne Warwick was a constant staple in our house, sound tracking my childhood alongside my mother. Her sunlit interpretation of What the World Needs Now holds a bittersweet place in our family history. It was the song mother’s partner chose for her funeral, though grief has entirely blocked out any memory of it actually playing.

While I easily amassed Warwick's iconic Bacharach and David catalogue from those same charity shop racks, this record had proven elusive until now. Following an acrimonious split with her longtime songwriting duo, Dionne moved to Detroit’s finest production powerhouse: Holland-Dozier-Holland. On the advice of an astrologer looking to jumpstart her stalled chart success, she added an extra "e" to her surname (becoming Warwicke) and completely relinquished creative control for her album, Just Being Myself.

Sadly, the cosmic realignment failed. Feeling increasingly disheartened after her move to Warner Bros., she watched the album tank commercially, which explains why finding a copy today is such a rarity.

This specific B-side is an absolute masterpiece that easily deserved to be the lead track. Since the turn of the millennium, it has been sampled no fewer than 23 times across the fractious hip-hop landscape.

Yet, as always, I find myself fiercely loyal to the original. What’s not to love? You get her soothing, soulful delivery anchored by Gene Page’s wonderfully dramatic arrangement. It is a concentrated dose of brilliant songwriting, with Holland-Dozier-Holland delivering one of their rawest, most enduring productions.

Many recordings live two distinct lives. The first is often defined by unfulfilled artistic intentions or the harsh sting of contemporary criticism. The second belongs to a future generation, listeners unborn at the time of its release, whose eventual re-appraisal is usually far more forgiving.

Life is simply too short to waste words on music that no longer move you when there is still so much brilliance to wax lyrical about. What is truly magical about a track like this is the metaphysical bridge it builds. Those who loved it the first time around, and those discovering it today, are feeling the same joy in the same passages, creating a sweet, timeless harmony across the generations.

 BEATS OF LOVE 

80. I Feel You (Mudd Remix) by Payfone &  Kyd Nereida

I’D FULLY intended to write about Brown Fang x Torn Sail until Dr Rob dropped his own piece and completely nailed it. He captured their essence so perfectly that my attempt to tell you to buy it on sight felt entirely redundant. So, let's keep it simple: just buy it.

Yet, much like a club golfer obsessively perfecting their swing and dreaming of a 22 handicap, I spun this twelve-inch and found myself transported. It was incredible enough to pull me back to the keyboard, still hoping that some kindred stranger out there might connect with these words.

In the meantime...

I first discovered Payfone via Phil’s peerless Golf Channel label. Subconscient Lamentation was, and remains, a bass-heavy, stone-cold classic. It felt untouchable until 2019, when they elevated their sound with the prominent vocals of the stunning I Was in New York. Frankly, I didn't think they’d ever top that. I held that same skepticism when I first heard Kyd Nereida’s vocals on last year’s Put Your Face Away. But here, given center stage, she sounds compellingly emotive, and more than a little sultry. 

There is no point trying to compare her to anyone else; her voice is entirely her own, a genuinely singular talent. While I was initially drawn to the darker stabs of the A-side, hearing this warmer, slo-mo mix over a proper set of loud speakers changed everything. It teases the highest peaks and weaves in Michele Chiavarin’s wondrous piano to create something truly spectacular. The woozy delirium it induces feels like a guilty pleasure, pure, deeply satisfying indulgence.

Sometimes, getting completely lost in a track without overthinking it is the ultimate win. Forget the handicap. Drop the needle. Let’s dance.