BEATS OF LOVE 

121. Nancy’s Minuet by The Everly Brothers

JUST FINDING out about my autism and OCD has left me stunned. I mourn the childhood I could have had if I had known sooner.

One where my father didn't die at forty-six. One where I wasn't driven to the brink just to measure up, only to be thrown away because algebra made little sense to me. But I can't spiral for long. The missus needs me in the present.

I made us sit through dull evenings for the promise of a lavish cake tomorrow, brushing off her frustration just as my mother used to do when my father’s imaginary foreign holidays never came true. Then, at the tail-end of my Master’s dissertation on US detention centres, reality violently expanded. A call from my wife shattered the quiet: she had gone for a routine Home Office check-in and was being detained. Even with our later change in fortune, that day’s dark shadow never lifted, freezing my ability to move forward or balance life's demands.

Thankfully, the missus is doing better and better. I used to think it was just stress, and I gave myself a deadline to get my life back on track in three years. I now know that is not realistic. Autism and OCD will keep affecting things unless I get counselling right away. It is very scary, especially because I am still waiting for my official paperwork and do not know how long it will take. The diagnosis itself took forever.

Until now, I wrote Beats Of Love from the perspective of my autism, without realising it. This is my first post written outside of that headspace. This dramatic song was the last track I played while still in that unware state. Cheers to Bob Stanley, whose brilliant book Yeah Yeah Yeah: The Story of Modern Pop opened my ears to it.

.

BEATS OF LOVE 

120. Solaris by Pablo Color & Berlin Lama 

SWISS LO-FI genius Pablo Color is the unsung hero of contemporary Balearic music. The masterpiece that is La Calle Roja first sucked me in to his subtle yet hypnotic musical tapestry. His sonic landscapes have captivated me ever since. 

There's always some hook-line or stylistic variation that makes his musical offerings truly essential, and this latest effort with the gifted and musically versatile Berlin Lama is no exception. The glorious weather and my sunny uplift in mood (the 3am starts are finally ending) have meant it hasn't been off the turntable.

Perhaps contributing to Lexx's current long player has given him the confidence to stray away from ambience from time to time, embracing a bit more groove. Perhaps his Chilean descent and expanded use of the guitar, an instrument the composer only picked up in his twenties to express his melancholy, are in part responsible for this broader spectrum. Or, perhaps Lama fresh from receiving some critical acclaim for his own long player is also in part responsible for adding some percussive depth. Either way, it sounds as fresh as my green grass now looks after my first full day in the garden.

Yes, the crisp sound of summer has already arrived, dropping into the day like a warm, nostalgic bassline. The wind rustles the leaves in perfect rhythm, and it feels good. No, not good, great. It is that rare, aching kind of happiness that makes you want to freeze time.

https://pablocolor.bandcamp.com/album/solaris

 

BEATS OF LOVE 

119. Lipstick (Shout !) (Instrumental)  by J.M. Black

SOMETIMES, WE just need to stop talking and let the music speak. I still remember the horror of coming home from work during my online forum obsession, turning on my computer, and confronting both my offensive sexist humour and the harsh, well-deserved criticism it provoked.

I quickly typed an apology in acute embarrassment, but I grew mindful of my digital footprint and, more importantly, what I thought thereafter. Sadly, evolving into a less offensive individual and accepting personal responsibility is an option many who fall foul of the offensive gaffe decide not to choose. 

Instead, they choose to further blame the object of their embarrassment, using lazy online support systems to justify their willful ignorance whilst stigmatising and dehumanising people. And clean, forgetting all about the music that bonds us all together. However, others, like myself, often address imaginary audiences when they offend, and feel mortified by the harm inflicted their ignorance causes others who they neglected to imagine. Sadly, there is also a portion that affiliates with marginalised groups who would never accept an apology from anybody. Ever. Instead, they look to maximise the embarrassment, using lazy online support systems to justify their unforgiving stance whilst stigmatising and dehumanising people.

Yes, sometimes, we all need to play more brilliant instrumentals like this absolute beauty to harmonise our souls.

BEATS OF LOVE 

118. Hai-Donan by Shigharu Mukai-Morning Flight     

Is It Balearic? continues to branch out into new musical territories, showcasing the true depth of their roster. While the Marius Circus 12-inch has understandably stolen the spotlight, Wrekin Havoc's Camino is equally stellar. It perfectly captures the label’s signature sound: pure, soulful, Italo-infused goodness.

If the Delia Recordings sampler is anything to go by, three brilliant LPs are just around the corner by Shrinkwrap, Torn Sail and Brown Fang. Three unique acts that instantly scream quality. Add to that Jim's remix package that includes a sun-drenched Begin interpretation of Still River Flow with its subtle keys, with a more dizzying, floor-friendly X-Press 2 remix of Phoenix and you have a Midlands set on musical fire.

I had to mention that, but this week I've been obsessed with this colourful masterpiece. It was Basso or Moonboots who first introduced me to Japanese jazz-fusion with its sonic perfectionism and resplendent touches that work against the American orthodoxy to produce something more sanitised, yet more magical. Trombone virtuoso Shigeharu Mukai once lived in New York. After moving back to Japan, he formed his own musical group. Online search results also reveal his specific blood type. Note the ridiculous attention to detail.

While known for the powerful Miracle of Tungus, which elevates his trombone into a next-level boogie machine, this album opener wraps the listener in steel band percussive fairy dust. Reggae icon Pecker sprinkles rhythmic magic against a soothing trombone backdrop, answering the ultimate question with absolute certainty: this is unequivocally Balearic.

BEATS OF LOVE 

117. Last Night I Had a Dream by Randy Newman

I'VE ALWAYS been fatalistic and paranoid. And with just cause. My father suffered a heart attack on Friday the 13th, then suffered a fatal one thirteen days later. 

My mother spent a full six months of tests and anxiety after a bleed led her GP to fear the worst, only to be given the all clear. Less than a month later, she was dead after tripping over her hair dryer's cord.

Quite a few friends attended Buddhist retreats in their twenties and despite me not biting, the undeniable change in them left an indelible mark on my senses. I vividly recall the torpor of an unmonitored cold turkey withdrawal from Librium in my aunt's back bedroom where she thought I'd gone full, Syd Barrett. Only when I prayed did I feel any relief and at just that point, a massiv bolt of light shone through the window. I woke up less agitated, reasoning it was just coincidental that the streetlights came on. But I wasn't certain coz I began praying more regularly.

Even with my faith, I still worry too much about bad things happening. But faith and music give me time to think about the good things in my life. These thoughts create inner voices that helped me quit smoking, drink less, and stop bad habits.

Little wonder I'm able to call these voices my other friends. Friends that enter my subconscious more and more, strengthening my faith while making me a little less fatalistic and paranoid. Hallelujah! 

BEATS OF LOVE

116. Sworn by Dream Boys

MUST SAY, it's great to have Horsebeach's Pure Shores spinning on the turntable. Ryan has made the song his own with his inimitable charm and colourful way around a song. 

Wanting to know what made him tick led me to discover this LA/Scottish band whose name creates a google nightmare. Their sole LP was a steal and has been on repeat since it arrived. Their songs are awash with a fiery fragility that sound like they could collapse at any time but miraculously don't. 

The chiming guitars glide over rich harmonies that never sound fey, maintaining a subtle suspense that is missing from most songs, even those made with guitars in 1986.

This song is short but packs a real punch with its subtly crafted breaks and soaring fallen angel voices. A band should sound like one person, albeit a superhuman one, so Horsebeach has a distinct advantage, as do bands comprising siblings, and in this song, the trans-Atlantic Dream Boys truly do sound as one. No mean feat.

Nothing beats the sharp, clean shock of perfect guitar pop. It is the last pure gift left; the only thing the algorithms and ad-men haven't corrupted.

https://open.spotify.com/track/2Ehm3s5f2OQF9bYGeqBJnD

             

BEATS OF LOVE 

115. Sometimes by James

THE MIND is strange, or at least mine is. I have this crystal clear image of a guy at my school enraptured on the stage with James in one of their oversized tee-shirts. 

I've never seen James live, and the only possible explanation for this crystal clear memory my mind holds is he was instead invading the stage as The Man From Delmonte supported the Fall. It would help explain why the life affirming anthems of the era sung with frenzied passion on a bed of proper adult musicianship sailed clean over me. I loved the unpredictable intensity and warmer intimacy of less accomplished smaller gigs. 

With age, this momentous song now feels alive in me as, outside of Weatherall's interpretations of their work, I've never really experienced the band itself at the peak of its powers. Cheers to Matt Best for sharing this might online. It's truly heartwarming to know that the Beehive Mill was their practice space as round here mills became warehouses, stifling creativity, before finally being razed to the ground. I was going to treat myself to a vinyl copy until I realised I could add the CD to an existing order for just 50p. The fact I keep spinning it means it's super value for money coz you can't buy a chocolate biscuit for that.

The mind is wonderful, or at least mine is. For, despite having some serious water cascading toward me, I can completely escape myself and still get lost in music. It hasn't failed me yet.