Anyway. I feel like writing most of the time, a lot of the time I'm simply not capable of actually turning on a computer and tapping out the words. It makes me angry which makes me ill, which gets me down. We all know the glorious spirals that make up this short and brutish existence. Music, books and art are all things that can help make the pain palatable - a spoonful of sugar as it were. (A spoonful of oxycontin would sometimes be preferable).
Music and memories are so deeply intertwined it's sometimes difficult to work out the reality. For instance - I can remember lying in someone's car, or maybe on the sofa, when I first heard Dexy's singing "Come on Eileen" on the radio. It was released in 1982, a world cup year, and through the mist of beer, wine and other things, I thought it was the Ireland world cup song - "Come on Ireland". It didn't really make any difference at that moment that Ireland hadn't actually qualified. That's what I remember. I don't know if any of it is true...My memory might be shot but some memories are frighteningly real. I loved a girl called Sal. In 1981, partly to get away from the royal marriage shenanigans, four of us went to France for a fortnight. When I got back to London I was obsessed with this song, I still love it. PiL were a beacon for me, and Wobble's bass lines were hypnotic. This is "How Much Are They?". It's beautiful.
(If you don't own anything by JW then check out the three CD "I Could Have Been A Contender". It's a decent overview. And if you've got some spare cash - go and buy the man's back catalogue, and go and see him live. Quality).
How much are they?
