Random access memory - revisited

                                   

Reposted in tribute to Tom Verlaine 3/12/49 - 28/1/23

I heard a song the other day - I can't even remember what or where and it was barely in my consciousness - but there was a staccato guitar in it and it prompted a thought.  A fleeting one - one of those that drifts in vaguely and out again quickly, like a faint wisp of smoke.  "That sounds a bit like Marquee Moon" went the thought, and promptly disappeared.

But it came back and this time it brought along a random memory - of late Summer 1977, the weather a bit like now, when I had just turned fourteen.  I was venturing - half of me tentatively, and the other half of me very brazenly -  into a lot of new experiences,  most of which revolved around boys and punk.  I'd only bought one proper grown-up album so far and was saving my pocket money for more 12" vinyl.  What were they, about £2.49, something like that?  I couldn't just go out and buy one, it had to be planned. So the cheapo singles bin in Martins was always worth a look in case I could pick up something for 10p, something I didn't have to scrimp for nor plan, but something I could actually take home the same day and play.

A lot of band names were becoming familiar;  I was latching on to what I thought 'fitted' the punk scene, but often without having first heard the music.  I mean, bands like The Cortinas had the honour of getting their name carefully written on my school science overall in permanent black pen alongside the more obvious ones like Buzzcocks, Sex Pistols et al, even though I hadn't yet heard one track by them (the Cortinas, that is) .  I got it wrong sometimes... like, I thought Dead Fingers Talk must be young, new and very raw just on the name alone... wrote that name on my school satchel too... they weren't, though, were they?  And it was the same with Television.  It was a name which was linked to all this new stuff I was exploring with limited means of doing so, and I imagined that they must be making songs at least as aggressive as White Riot or snarly as Pretty Vacant, whoever/whatever they were.  So when I flicked through the cheapo singles bin in Martins and saw the 7" of 'Marquee Moon', I was quick to hand over my 10p and dead excited at the prospect of hearing it.

I remember walkng home with it feeling really chuffed.  I had to go past the petrol station which was usually a bit nerve-wracking because there were always some young guys working there and I didn't know quite how to strike that balance between feeling horribly shy and yet also wanting their attention.  Just having to walk past was a big deal.  Funny how you remember these odd details but I recall very vividly that this time there was a new petrol attendant there, a tall bloke with acne.  He smiled at me.  Actually he stared.  I think I got more of a look than I really wanted.  I didn't fancy him at all... but I sort of wanted him to fancy me... I smiled back.  Then I immediately regretted it, in case I was giving him the come-on, which I didn't really want to even though my heart was beating fast and oh now I'd never be able to walk past that garage again.  It would make it really difficult going into town because that was the main route,  I'd have to take that funny detour down the other side of the hill.... oh what was I thinking.....   Ha, they were confusing times, those early teens.

Anyway, I got home, unwrapped my new purchase and put it on the turntable on the family stereogram.  I was so excited.. hopeful for some thrashing chords, some fierce drumming, hadn't a clue what a song called Marquee Moon might be about, but I'd heard of The Marquee...

Erm, it wasn't what I expected at all.  It was weird.  And the B-side was more of the same!

So, I had to work really hard to convince myself that I could, perhaps, sort of, like it.  Or I could at least grow to like it... one day... maybe.  I played it again.  My sister came downstairs and said she thought it sounded a bit like Yes.  I didn't know what Yes were like but that didn't seem to me to be a good thing.

Well, I kept the single anyway, in my little cardboard box and it stayed there.  I did grow to really like it in the end, although I have to admit, it took time.  And even now I can't be sure, I wonder if I like it especially because I just can't separate it from that time, that feeling, that age and stage in life, the mood it evokes... the memories.  These things are so inextricably linked.

I also got brave and walked past the petrol station again, continuing my ambivalent flirtation with a boy I didn't fancy one bit.  I never grew to like him, although even then there was this naive teenage thought process which went along similar lines to my feelings about the record... like, maybe I would if I really tried... should I just keep playing him again in case....?!

Update 29/1/23... I've appreciated more and more in the interim years just how unique, good and influential Tom Verlaine and Television were.  RIP Tom.

Moving away from the pulsebeat

I’m so sorry that I haven’t been very present on the blogs lately.  2023 hasn’t started out as well as I had hoped as I’ve not been quite right for a little while; I appear to have a flock of sparrows cheeping away inside my head.  (This should surely inspire a surreal piece of artwork some day, I can picture it now…)  They’ve been there for at least a couple of weeks – cheep cheep cheep cheep cheep, incessantly throughout all my conscious hours, and waking me up particularly loudly at dawn, but at least they cheep very neatly in time with my heartbeat.  Normally I love the sound of sparrows, but this – nah.

Anyway, it’s under investigation now and hopefully all will be resolved soon.  I’m carrying on as normal but it’s just making life a bit more tiring and I have to work quite hard not to get down and anxious about it too.  It’s always the way, isn’t it, when you worry of course it just risks making things worse - I should probably switch to a life of hedonism and start drinking and taking drugs but, well, the expense…    Anyway, anything that distracts from and drowns out this pulsing sound is fantastic; I recommend standing by the washing machine on spin cycle but, of course, music is the best thing.

So I couldn’t help thinking of a favourite track from one of the first albums I purchased with my pocket money.  I was going to put some words together about it now but then I remembered that some years ago I’d mentioned it in another post and what I wrote then still just sums it up for me:

The outer sleeve of the fourth (or was it fifth?) album I ever bought was the thickest and stiffest I'd seen.  The card was really sort of heavy, and had a wider than normal spine.  There was a particular texture to it that made it feel different too; perhaps because of its matt silver finish.

I bought it some time in 1978, can't recall exactly when, but I remember playing it a lot and for some reason I have a specific memory of putting it on just before heading out to a party. I was kneeling in front of our ancient portable electric heater, a cumbersome thing, which fizzed and popped and clicked in a rather ominous way while emitting an intense heat the smell of burnt dust, but it was the best way to dry my hair. I simply knelt in front of it with my head bent forward so that my hair hung upside down and then when I looked up again, it had dried at right angles to my scalp. A light application of egg-white then set it into spikes.  I was doing all this while listening to the two-minute genius of Love Battery and I Don't Mind, etc.

I loved every track on that silver-sleeved album, but Moving Away From The Pulsebeat was probably the biggest surprise to me on first hearing and seemed like a grand finale.

 Buzzcocks: Moving Away From The Pulsebeat from 'Another Music In A Different Kitchen'

Hope to be in more normal mode soon!