Sock Free Hideaway

BEATS OF LOVE

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

I SORT of became hedonistic in my early-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 pushed us to take the rave experience seriously; to hear what the drugs were doing to the music, and vice versa.

Despite seeing myself as more open-minded 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 have an unbending 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 lurching onto the dancefloor in a pained but enthusiastic manner, conducting some private ritual only I understood. What I noticed in proper dance clubs was that nobody else stood still, and nobody needed an imaginary mountain to get them moving. 

In typical fashion, just as my scruff look became popular in places like the Herbal Tea Party, I began shopping for clothes and found myself equally out of place there, now overdressed in new clobber. My world has always been my bedroom. A place free from the constraints of conversation or fashion. A place where I play music, read, dream, and worry. I feel quietly alien from people who don't do these things, as though we're orbiting different planets entirely.

Sure, I didn't evolve the way I'd hoped, but at least I've never had Ebeneezer Goode in my subconsciousness. I know folk who have.