My Desert Island Discs
8 songs to keep me sane in lonely surroundings
I have often been asked what I choose if I ever ended up on this popular radio show. Although the list might change on a daily basis, I’ve decided to knuckle down and answer with this week’s blog.
I’m not choosing a luxury item or book or any of the other things they ask, just keeping it to the music. I hope you enjoy my selections and invite you to let me know your choices.
1: Yes, by McAlmont & Butler (1995)
Even though my list will probably have changed by the time you read this, this will always be on the island.
I never got the album from whence it came, rather found it as a throwaway track on Now 32, the first pop compilation I ever bought. Sandwiched on disc 1 between Oasis and Paul Weller, I was greeted by a combination of Motown drums and a dizzy sounding guitar, before a glorious eruption of strings sounded. David McAlmont’s dulcet tones ask “So you wanna know me now?” and my goodness I certainly did.
I admit I wasn’t an immediate convert until a “Britpop” special of Later with Jools Holland aired on BBC2 sometime in 1996, in which a fantastic live version of Yes featured. From that point, I absolutely adored it. It certainly helped with my many (many!) romantic failures of the time. Yes, I could indeed do better.
2: Shine On You Crazy Diamond [Parts 1–7], by Pink Floyd (1975)
My early memories of this were entirely from air shows. As a kid, I took on one of my father’s passions which was aviation, and we would attend multiple air shows each year. In the 1980’s, one display that was fairly regular were the Unipart Aerobatic Duo, who flew in a pair of RF4 propeller aircraft. Essentially they were like gliders, but with engines. Whenever they performed, the air display commentary would stop and instead they played a beautiful keyboard sound with a guitar solo. It was the perfect soundtrack to what was described as an airborne ballet.
I only ever knew it was Pink Floyd but never was exposed to much of their music as child. Fast forward to 2001. I was working in the short-lived audio/visual department of Debenhams, where copies of Echoes became available. This compilation of Pink Floyd best work was swiftly put onto one of our sound systems, when suddenly as disc 2 started I heard a familiar sound. It was that keyboard. It was that guitar. It was that song. I became engrossed as the opening few minutes I was so familiar with segued into more guitar riffs, saxophone solos, wind rushes and a harmonic chorus of vocals. All over the course of 17 minutes. Loved it then and still do.
3: Newborn, by Elbow (2000)
I was an avid purchaser of singles and albums during my uni years. Hindsight is a wonderful thing and, if I could, I certainly would go back in time and advise my younger self to put a cap on it. But then, I might have not have the love for this song that I do.
Bought completely on a whim due to it being NME’s Single of the Week, and it being a 4-track EP (something that was getting rarer at the time), I bought it without even having heard it. At home, I put the other songs I had bought on first before ending my new listening spree with Newborn, not really expecting much.
Seven and a half minutes later, I felt like I needed a cigarette. And I didn’t even smoke!
“I’ll be the corpse in your bathtub” might not be the first lyric you’d think of when writing a gentle ballad, but coming from Guy Garvey’s haunting vocals it works. Another song in this list that goes from one sound to another, before just stopping at the height of the final crescendo, it’s rather marvellous.
4: Symphony №9 in E Minor, from the New World, Op.95, B.178, 4th movement, by Antonin Dvorak (performed by the Wiener Philharmoniker)
Yeah, I know, you think I’m trying taking the D.I.D. thing too seriously by including a classical piece. And you’d be right. But this genuinely is one of my favourite pieces of music.
I’ll admit, I mostly know it from wrestling. It’s a piece of music that’s been used by multiple grapplers over the years, currently by Walter and Imperium on NXT:UK, though that recording is pretty bad. But the aura of a full orchestra recording in a packed house while a behemoth of a man walks the aisle is quite the feeling. When I hear the opening strings, I always feel like puffing out my chest with my arms behind, feeling strong and proud.
It’s also the music that inspired the theme from Jaws. Though being on a desert island, that might be a bit unnerving to hear.
No matter what the feeling it brings, it’s another masterful sound that veers through varying tempos and feelings, like any good classical piece should do.
5: Runaway, by Del Shannon (1961)
Having grown up with a lot of my dad’s musical favourites being a certain era, a lot of rock & roll songs have permanently rented space in my memory. This is easily the best one.
A differently sounding vocal than most of this time, Del Shannon sounds bereft as he belts out his tale of lost love. As most great songs tend to, it’s a sad lyric in the confines of an uplifting tune, highlighted by the famous Musitron solo.
And much like this paragraph, it doesn’t outstay its welcome.
6: Space Oddity, by David Bowie (1969)
Truth be told, I was never a Bowie fan growing up. A lot of my musical knowledge before I turned 16 was musicals and rock & roll, which is what my parents mostly had on in the car. I didn’t even watch Top of the Pops. Bowie was seen initially as a bit of a weirdo, so it took me a long while to really appreciate his work. During another of my many music spending sprees at uni, I purchased an early-70’s focussed Bowie best of album and found myself anthralled by it.
The use of stereo for the different voices and sound could be considered gimmicky if done now, but it’s masterfully used for this tale. I chose this one just over Five Years, which itself is an incredible song, but for sheer imagination I had to go with arguably Bowie’s most famous song.
7: Reet Petite, by Jackie Wilson (1957/1986)
A liking of music has got to start somewhere. For me, it started with this. It’s the first chart song I can remember really liking when it was rereleased in 1986. The ‘claymation’ video to the song from BBC2 series Arena became popular, which spearheaded the reissue of the song in tribute to the late singer. Of course, at the age of 8 Ididn’t know anything about that. I just saw a funny video with the sound of someone over-pronouncing “AWWWWW-RIGHT” and rolling his tongue for the chorus.
To this day, that brass band intro puts me in a good mood, even if I am jealous of anyone who can roll their tongue when joining in. I can’t.
8: Through a Long & Sleepless Night, by The Divine Comedy (1996)
In the year 1996, on a regular autumn morning in the library at SEEVIC College in Benfleet, I was pottering around the drama department with my earphones in listening to Radio 1 on my Walkman. During the regular feature of the ‘Triple Tracker’ on Simon Mayo’s morning show, where listeners would pick a song from the 80’s, 90’s and a current favourite, the third track started to play. A sinister guitar pick faded in alongside what sounded like a life support machine beep. A familiar sounding voice suddenly began singing slightly distorted with a beautiful string section in the background, along a differing time signature. I knew this was something that was not an oft-played song on daytime radio. Especially hearing the words “That joke’s so shit” unedited.
After six glorious minutes, it’s announced as the Divine Comedy from their just released album. I knew I had to have that album.
I wasn’t an immediate fan of Neil Hannon & co until I heard this song. It’s a song that takes you on a journey: intense distorted vocals in the first verses, a chorus of wistful longing in higher register, a slow section of quiet refrain, before every instrument goes as loud as possible while Hannon seemingly blows his lungs out. The finale section is an absolute wonder, feeling like you’ve just been through the most emotional life experience but done it in 6 minutes.
If restrictions allow, I’m going to see the Divine Comedy perform Casanova live in its entirety later this year. I’m going to cry when they play this.
A lot
