Sock Free Hideaway

BEATS OF LOVE

169. Pro>gen (Land Of Oz Mix) by The Shamen

I SORT of became hedonistic in my mid-twenties as the nineties raged on, but before that relatively short spell, I was surly and high-minded. 

Journos, like Jack Barron and Dele Fedele and musicians who spoke to them like the Shamen got me into dance music. Journos and musicians who painted deeper meaning to the rave experience. Summoning us to look for deeper meaning with sound waves and psychedelic drugs.

Despite seeing myself as more intrepid and enlightened, the only noticeable change was my taste in music. I was getting more eclectic as I widened my net. My clothes were full of holes and I wore tie dye shirts under fishing jumpers or I pilfered my sister's designer sweaters. I was unsurprisingly the scruffiest in the Hacienda when the Shamen's Synergy experience came to town.

And despite still buying an increasing amount of overlooked cheap bangers on major labels, I still have a sense of loyalty to acts like The Shamen. Whose  Land Of Oz mixes like this beauty made the band momentarily hip as clubbing took hold. It really annoyed the indie faithful, but it was a burst of jerky positive energy that I knew inside out. 

Whether it was tripping, pissed or just being conditioned to only dance to songs I both knew and liked, I spent my night in clubs hunched against walls. Until briefly springing onto the dancefloor in a pained but enthusiastic manner, moving my imaginary mountain. What I noticed in proper dance clubs was that nobody ever stood still or moved mountains. In fact, nobody ever played this after its wider release. 

In typical fashion, just as my scruff look became popular in places like the Herbal Tea Party, I began shopping for clothes, so was equally out of place there in my new clobber. My world has always really been my bedroom. A place free from the constraints of conversation or fashion. A place where I play music, read, dream, and worry. I sort of feel alien from folk who don't do these things as I imagine them to be floating in space.

Sure, I didn't evolve the way I'd hoped, but at least I've never had Ebeneezer Goode in my record collection. Hard to believe it's the same rapper.