'Old Man' - Neil Young (1972)

“Old man, take a look at my life,

I’m a lot like you.

I need someone to love me the whole day through.

Ah, one look in my eyes and you can tell that’s true.”

Never grow old. That’s what my Grandad used to tell me. Usually while he was contorting his aching limbs in to the cupboard under the stairs to find some fuse wire or an old tobacco box full of screws. Yes, I offered to help. But as I’m sure you know, grandparents keep everything in special places that only they can find and are impossible to describe, so there’s no point trying to look for them.

Growing old though is something I’ve always relished. I felt like an octogenarian when I was just fifteen. Possibly as I was keen to escape my teenage years. But mostly because living with my grandparents was so enjoyable. I was eager to get to their age.

This was foolish, of course. Never wish your time away. My Grandad told me that too. But following his advice to never grow old will require inventing some kind of Marvel-style super serum that may well be beyond me. I need to hang out in more labs with evil geniuses. In the meantime, I’ll stay young the best way I know how... by being open to new ideas, experiences and adventures. And keeping limber by climbing in and out of hall cupboards.

Footnote: This was one of my Grandad’s favourite songs. He would have been 93 today. Written by Neil Young for the caretaker of his Californian ranch, Louis Avila. Neil will tell you more (in a wonderful early performance, from the BBC archives)...

'Mercy Seat' - Ultra Vivid Scene (1988)

"Apply the heat that gently turns,

My sickness in to health."

Not all goths are created equal. According to Howard. Picture Howard as the Elder Goth. One who sires other fledgling goths. Like in those vampire shows. Howard was always talked about in revered tones by kids in the years above me at school. And teachers would say to me, "Oh you must know Howard, he’s a goth too".

Can’t remember how or where I finally met him. But in the summer of 1988, Howard used to turn up at my front door every couple of weeks. Under cover of darkness, of course. Head to toe in black. And always with a tape for me. Usually something by Clan of Xymox or Cindytalk. Fully approved goth bands to his ears.

On Howard’s sliding scale of gothdom, I was a mere demi-goth. I had made the cardinal sin of listening to Fields of the Nephilim, which knocked off loads of goth points, apparently. But I clawed some back by owning most everything on 4AD at the time – though I never quite understood what was so ‘goth’ about that label, as the majority of their bands seemed more influenced by the Velvet Underground and Tim Buckley.

We quickly fell out of touch after that summer. Finding Belinda Carlisle in my record collection was probably the final insult to Howard's pure-bred gothic sensibilities. I like to think he’s still sitting on his throne of molten Nephilim albums, seeding plans for the next gothic uprising. If he’s been reading this blog, somehow I don’t think I’ll be invited.   

Spotify linky:

Ultra Vivid Scene – Mercy Seat