'Stay' - Low (2013)

“I threw my hands in the air,
And said, ‘Show me something.’”

Just can’t listen to cover versions of songs I love. Have I mentioned this before? It’s usually easily avoided. There’s not many bands looking to do covers of Fields Of The Nephilim after all. But every so often I’ll be taken unawares and trapped. Watching a film perhaps. All going well. Yes, it looks like she remembers him from when they last met in that book shop in Paris seven years ago. When suddenly there’s a harpsichord version of The Cure’s ‘Just Like Heaven’. No. Please. No. 

But if it’s a band I love doing a cover of a song I don’t know, then I’m most usually always smitten. As is the case here with Duluth slowcore favourites Low. They could cover any song and I’d swoon. For this special split single they’ve chosen Rihanna’s ‘Stay’. I’ve haven’t heard the original. (Yes, I’m sure it was a huge hit and what planet have I been living on?) Is it good? No, I’m not going to listen to it. Am sure it will pop up in my life at some point. For today, it’s Low's glorious version that is playing on repeat.

Have popped it below for you - though I’d encourage you to track it down at all good local independent retailers (and global online stores) if you like the sound of it (proceeds go to charity and all that). “But, Michael, we can’t listen to cover versions of Rihanna songs we already love.” Oh, now you’re just being difficult.

'Boys Don't Cry (New Voice)' - The Cure (1986)

"I try and laugh about it,

Hiding the tears in my eyes."

The Eighties in one image. Well, my Eighties. I can’t speak for the striking coal miners or those that fought in the Falklands War. I’m thinking they’d probably choose something less frivolous.

My Sixth Form days would begin and end with this poster of Robert Smith hanging over my bed. My black school folders had this silhouette drawn on them in silver pen. My friend Toni had a Boys Don’t Cry T-shirt she wore one summer day we were walking her dogs over the fuel allotments. It was on badges I found in Kensington Market and postcards bought on the Isle of Wight. I’m surprised I didn’t get it as a tattoo. (Well, not that surprised, actually.)  

And, of course, I’d painstakingly copy that look. Plumes of distressed hair, over-sized suit jackets, high-tops with multiple sets of laces, and a guitar slung nonchalantly over my shoulder (the guitar was one fashion accessory too far, to be honest - especially when out shopping or visiting the dentist). It would be a long time until another sleeve had that impact on me again. Probably ‘Life Is A Rollercoaster’ by Ronan Keating. Ho ho ho.  

‘The Lovecats’ – The Cure (1983)

"You’re so wonderfully, 
wonderfully, wonderfully, wonderfully  pretty.

Oh, you know that I’d do anything for you."

"Michael, what were you doing in your room last night?"

"Erm ... [Ok, this could be awkward.] Probably writing, or drawing, or something." [Yes, that sounds good. I'm arty - that's exactly the kind of thing I do each night.]

"Oh, because I walked past your house and it kind of looked like you were dancing. By yourself. Your shadow was bouncing around behind your curtains. With your arms doing that 'Robert Smith thing' around your head."

"Oh, yes … I was probably doing that too."

[Thanks, life. Here’s the one girl that makes me feel like dancing round my room. And she catches me dancing round my room!!! Argh! Hang on … since when does she know where I live?]

"Hey, how do you know where …"

[Oh, she’s gone.]

Lesson learnt: Swap your childish Spitfire curtains ("Spitfires?!!?" I know. Exactly. Why?) for much thicker ones the day you reach double figures.

  

P.S. A year after this tale, I lent the above video to the above friend. And she spotted the little nip Rob gets from the kitten when sitting on the stairs (at 1.34). She acted this out for me. It instantly became my favourite moment in any video ever.


P.P.S. Yes, long-time readers, this is the same girl.  

‘Jewel’ – Cranes (1993)

“Sweet dreams,
I remember it all.
I remembered it all.”

Let’s skip back to this very day 17 years ago. I’m sitting in a small portacabin behind the local library for the beginning of a week-long Jobplan Workshop. Sitting down next to me is a man who will read the Sun newspaper and then disappear at the mid-morning break, never to be seen again. The dozen of us that remain will be taught the wonders of writing a business letter and talking to a potential employer on the phone. Through it all, I will be sitting here thinking only of lunchtime, when I can go down the Rock Box to hunt down the three new limited edition 7-inch singles from the Cranes (including a sparkling Robert Smith remix). Perhaps that’s why I’d been on the dole for two years at this point.

I’ve often wondered how different my life would be if I’d pursued other things as obsessively and devotionally as records. Would I have found a job sooner? Possibly. Would I have had a string of relationships instead of shelves of alphabeticised vinyl? I doubt it. Would I be happier? Who knows.

What I do know is that so many of my memories are linked to music that I can’t imagine my life without it. Even now, looking back at Monday 13 September 1993, I clearly remember the feeling of arriving back to the portacabin after lunch with my bag of Cranes singles. And new CDs by The Cure (Show) and Nirvana (In Utero) also out that day. And the debut Curve album. (I love days like this when you get a flurry of new releases - more than you can sensibly listen to in a day.) I then spent the afternoon longing to go home when I should have been learning about overcoming hurdles in the crowded job market. But it all worked out in the end: it only took me another year to find my first job.

Spotify linky:

Cranes – Jewel

'Just Like Heaven' - Dinosaur Jr (1989)

“Strange as angels”

Ahhh … flexi discs. That’s right kids, in the days before CD cover mounts, the music mags used to give away tracks on square wobbly vinyl. You can guess how good they sounded. To stop them warping, you had to place them on another record and then weigh them down with spare change. This all required a bit more patience than playing an MP3. But we loved them,

The one above is a Blast First double-header from The Catalogue. Lunachicks take the lead, but I picked it up for Dinosaur Jr. Here they are being brilliantly Dinosaur Jr all over a cracking cover of The Cure’s ‘Just Like Heaven’. Bliss. I’d first heard this late one night on the John Peel show and smiled ear to ear. And then it abruptly stopped. Which usually meant Peel had pressed the wrong button again. But this time it was all part of the song. I have no idea to this day why it ends like that. But now I wouldn’t want it any other way. I’m all for sudden endi

Spotify linky:

Dinosaur Jr. – Just Like Heaven

(Mind your ears with this one.)

Spotify bonus linky - the original version:

The Cure – Just Like Heaven

'Disintegration' - The Cure (1989)

““The shallow drowned lose less than we”
You breathe
The strangest twist upon your lips
“And we shall be together …””

My alternate title for this blog was The Shallow Drowned. But it seemed a bit heavy.

My love for ‘Disintegration’ knows no end. It knows a beginning though. And that was twenty-one years ago to the month. In fact, The Cure have just reissued the album today in one of those shiny gatefold Deluxe Anniversary Editions (which obviously means I have to buy it for the fourth time). The first time round, I bought it on cassette during school lunchtime on the day it came out and it became the soundtrack to my A-level revision. Except very little revision got done if I was listening to it (which could account for the grade D in Geography).

“But what about that girl you hit with the snowball?” I hear you ask. “We’re only putting up with another Cure post to hear about her.” That’s a good memory you have there. Don’t worry, if I’m writing about The Cure then I’m also writing about Toni. Having restrained from throwing anything at her head for over two years, I felt a wave of confidence and invited her to see The Cure on The Prayer Tour that supported this album. It was a baking hot Saturday evening in July at Wembley Arena (the second of three shows that weekend), and for all three and a half hours they were mesmerising. Even people who didn’t go with Toni seem to agree it was just the most wonderful night.

I’ve listened to ‘Disintegration’ five times today. (Which, in 2010 terms, must make me Mayor of this album surely.) And although it’s the second in The Cure’s ‘doom’ trilogy, it only reminds me of the best of times.

Spotify linky:
The Cure – The Same Deep Water As You

'Catch' - The Cure (1987)

“Yeah, I know who you remind me of
A girl I think I used to know.
Yeah, I’d see her when the days got colder
On those days when it felt like snow.”

This is one of those songs where every line seems to be lifted from a moment in my life. You know those sort of songs, right? It means you immediately adore them, but don’t want to listen too many times in case they get tarnished. Yes?

A few months before this song was released, I met a girl in the snow. To be honest, I hit her on the back of the head with a snowball. She spun round. We met. If her scowling from a distance can be called ‘meeting’. Yes, I’ve decided it can.

The song will tell you all you need to know about this girl for the moment. We became fast friends, so the part of the song about not catching her name was true only for about half an hour. We’ll call her Toni, for that was in fact her name. And we’ll cross her path again in future songs. (Basically, in every single Cure song - and there will be a few.)

Listening to 'Catch' again right now, it still seems plucked straight from that January day. (Pause for reflection.)

So the lesson here is … always hit girls on the back of the head with snowballs if you get the chance. Erm … no, perhaps that isn’t the lesson.

Spotify linky:
The Cure – Catch