Thursday, May 31, 2012

Various: Memory Lane Round-up No. 2

So after those teasing vignettes (according to OP, anyway), here's a few more. Read into them what you will

1972: Crazy Horses/The Osmonds
All kids loved this cos of the electronic neighing. We'd sing it on our way to the rec hoping the swingboats, which we'd christened the crazy horses, would be free and not have big boy and girls on them.

1973: Sweet Talkin' Guy/The Chiffons
A rerelease of course, but it was never off the radio. It was on when I found myself on rather a long drive visiting a neighbour's sick aunt on the way to somewhere or other. We poked our heads round her bedroom door. She had an orange candlewick bedspread.

1977: Moody Blue/Elvis Presley
We'd sing it behind mum's back after she'd told us off. We were super-scared of her temper, but we still pushed it.

1977: Lonely Boy/Andrew Gold
Cleaning out my rabbit shed while telling Dad I was going to buy this record. I loved my rabbit. Yes, he had his own shed. I found him dead two years later lying out in looking all relaxed but stiff as a board. The next day we bought a new one from the Southampton Show. But it wasn't the same.

1978: Baker Street/Gerry Rafferty
On the way home from buying this I spotted a schoolmate. I got Dad to stop the car so I could show her what I bought. She looked bemused. But the conversation ended right there.

1979: Milk & Alcohol/Dr Feelgood
Richard Stead's stepsister.

1980: Silver Dream Machine/David Essex
Endless trailers everywhere, and the feeling that he was most definitely over.

1981: Under Pressure/Queen
A school trip to Paris. Actually, I could spin a proper blog entry out of this. *makes reminder note*

1982: Torch/Soft Cell
Breakfast time, sunny outside, bike at the ready for the hideous ride to sixth form.

1983: All Night Long (All Night)/Lionel Richie
A booze cruise with my grandma and a load of other pensioners to Calais. I bought this in a hypermarket. On the way back Doug, in his eighties, was struggling with a crate of beer on his shoulder. He died not long after.

1984: Big In Japan/Alphaville
A coach trip to Cambridge with my mum and my brother to stay with - yes! - Auntie Barbara. She lived all over the place, but now she was in Cambridge. I shared my secret love of the Scorpions with her daughters and we went round the crowded pubs of the town. In a matter of weeks, it would be uni time. The next day I bought a very nice - and very, very Eighties - checked shirt from Chelsea Man. Remember that store?

1985: Move Closer/Phyllis Nelson
The kitchen at 37 Newcombe Road. None of us liked that song. And isn't she funny

1986: Slave To The Rhythmn/Grace Jones
Apparently, everyone was listening to this 'in London', according to my housemate who'd been up there for the weekend. We thought he was a tit for saying it. I don't like this song.

1987: She's On It/The Beastie Boys
Driving to Kingston. We bought some mugs. It was overcast and a Saturday.

1988: Peek-A-Boo/Siouxsie & The Banshees
Getting ready for work. Simon Mayo championed it on his breakfast show and I always waited for it to come on, I loved it. It's one of my Top 10 most played on my ipod. I think it's a fantastic song. 

1989: That's The Way Love Is/Ten City
Having a fag in the loading bay of the bookshop I was working in while it rained Weeks later I'd be out of a job.

That's enough for today.


  1. What a selection box of memories, and so true about David Essex. Even he gave up after this, remember Night Clubbing *remembers, then shudders*

    On the subject of Siouxsie & The Banshees, if you cross paths with Pal Cathi, try and get a copy of her new book Weirdo. Incredible - finished it two days ago and I still can't shake it off. It's the book she was born to write...

  2. Agree completely about Slave to the Rhythm. Everything Grace Jones ever did sounded cold and bored to me. And Mondo is spot on that Silver Dream Machine opened the trap door of crapness under David Essex, which ended in the latrine of Night Clubbing.

    I'll throw in "I Won't Let You Down" by Ph.d...woke me up on my radio alarm clock... I lay there dozing and hating it, and then it was followed by a choked-up Mike Smith announcing that the Falklands War had started.