Life With the twenty-fifth anniversary of 9/11 upcoming, I thought I'd repost what was on this blog exactly twenty-five years ago this month, warts and all. When these were written, I would have been twenty-six, old enough to know better but not old enough to understand why I should know better. At the time, there was also a "Blog of the Day" feature but I'll remove any which aren't still online to retain the writer's privacy (even if they're on the Wayback Machine). Some links will also be lightly updated with a more contemporary source if necessary (such as linking to a song on YouTube).
Erm... When I was a student (mid-nineties) I knew two things. The first was that by the year 2000 my life would be complete. The second was that club music in all it's forms was the work of the devil to draw the populace away from real music. And I pretty much kept that opinion for much of the rest of the decade. Then last year something strange happened. I was standing in record shop and the DJ began to play 'GrooveJet' by Spiller featuring Sophie. Here was a record almost designed to talk me around to the Ibiza way of thinking. A dance record with a good lyric and melody of sorts which also had the kind of structure I'd never heard before. I walked to the counter and bought the thing straight away - and listened to it five times as soon as I was home.
My distrust of dance music still exists, much of it seeming too easy for words. There are the exceptions - the crossover music which I now feel myself not only appreciating but going positively radio gaga over. I'm becoming particular impressed by R&B. During my long and delayed train journey home tonight, I was welcome of the company of Mary J Blige and her 1997 album, 'share my world'. I should not like this album. But here I am, listening to it again whilst I write this. I want to gas on about her vocal range (extraordinary) or the production (as you'd expect, with glimpses of genius) And as I 'groove' along to the track 'round and round' I've come to a startling conclusion, and believe me, this is something of a revelation...there isn't one type of music I don't like....
Actually that may not be true. I'd run a mile from Kenny Rogers, James Galway and in fact most people with beards. And I'll draw the line at boy bands. And Atomic Kitten (mention number three on this weblog - six to go possibly).* But when it comes to everything else, I think I can - if not rave - at least understand. There isn't probably anything better at one o'clock in the morning having had many beers than throwing your weight around S Club 7's 'Reach for the Stars'. The rush of a Slipnot concert will be extreme. And quiet stylings of Vangelis lead you into believing that a calmer world is possible. The only boundary in music should be quality...
Interview! Nelly Furtado interviewed by Caroline Sullivan of 'The Guardian': "She begins chirpily and stays that way, answering even facetious questions with a desire to provide whatever's required. "So you're like a bird? What kind?" I inquire. "A seagull," she says seriously. "I was really inspired by a great book called Jonathan Livingston Seagull [the drippy new age classic by Richard Bach]." Journalists find it difficult to get a handle on Nelly - she can't be clumped in with Alanis, Christina, J-Lo or Tori because she's all four, with a hint of Natalie - and looks unnervingly like Courtney.
* This is what passed as a running gag in the early days. There have been a few since then mostly in relation to the Sugababes.
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