Consequential Lyrics #6: Erasure

"I ain't ever going home, cause I'm having a good time, I ain't ever going home cause my time has come..." I never understood why those lines from the Erasure song, Home meant so much to me, because I've always wanted to return home. The music of Erasure always felt so safe to me, even now I feel so assured by its warmth and familiarity. It was always sacred in that regard, because I always knew that its beauty could never be corrupted by the passage of time. For my closest friends and family, Erasure would be unique in that we all felt incapable of describing their consequence and yet, we appeared to be so assured that we all felt the same thing.

I always knew that Erasure would carry this great importance to me, after all I had spent most of my life listening to their 1988 album, The Innocents in an attempt to recall blissful childhood memories of the English village where I lived for a short time. The memories would crystallise as I would announce to everyone, "Hallowed Ground is the village green! Ship of Fools is my school!" When I finally returned as a twenty year old, I walked around its vaguely familiar streets and purposefully listened to The Innocents, meditating upon its unique connection to this precious era. Again, I felt stunted by the consequence of this music and I knew, however I framed it, I could never honour it adequately enough.

The entire Consequential Lyrics project has been about acknowledging and articulating the personal meaning of lyrics. It's so strange with Erasure, because their consequence seems to exist in this largely unexplored state. Yet we're still so keen to stress the importance of these songs, we grab each others arms' and shriek whenever a song like Drama! or Imagination comes on: "I can't believe I actually forgot how perfect these songs are..." Such a response like this would transcend timezones and there'd be a buzz of text message saying exactly the same thing. We could never do anything but agree, acknowledging that familiar jab of endorphins that is reliably released during the first few seconds of Always or In My Arms. 
 

For me, it's perfect music that's frequently associated with these truly perfect moments of assurance and connection. I frequently return to the recent memory of ambling down the Philosopher's Walk in Kyoto with my brother and my best friend, singing Yahoo! together with this boisterous, gleeful enthusiasm. Perhaps I was thrilled to be celebrating such personal music in such a public way (or else I was buzzing from committing such an extreme gaijin faux pas in such an iconic locale). Whatever the reason, I love idea that we just can't get over it. We can't move past that hysterical stage of preliminary gushing and analyse why Erasure resonates as it does.

I'm sure if we were pressed to do so, we could all sit down and analyse what makes music (or indeed, lyrics) consequential. We could tear apart the poetic devices in those lyrical fragments, the scenic allusions created by Vince's synthesizers, the feelings induced by tried-and-tested key signatures and chord progressions. We could even go so far as to elaborate upon those independently created personal meanings, those stories that seem to have absolutely nothing to do with the music itself. But then it all makes me wonder that if it were so easy to explain musical meaning, it probably wouldn't mean so much. That and there's a kind of relief that comes with just feeling... and knowing that others feel it too.

Wrap yourself up in every facet of emotion...

Consequential Lyrics #6: Erasure

Home

Hallowed Ground

I Love Saturday

In My Arms

Spiralling

My Heart... So Blue (Orchestral Remix)

When I Needed You (Melancholic Mix)

All Through The Years

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It's the only cassette we've been playing in the car for some time now. It's a special cassette, in that a facsimile copy of it exists on MiniDisc. It's also special, in that it has survived what could only be described as "chocolate-powder damage", sustained from residing at the bottom of my navy blue school-bag.

It's the tenth year anniversary of this cassette, El's Formal Tape and although I cringe when I am reminded of the unbelievable hype that accompanied this event, I cannot help but feel slightly warmed by the memory of its construction. After all, it was all done at the request of my date, TAFKATC, who insisted it was my task for the evening.

It was an exceedingly important task, preparing a selection of songs for that 15-minute car ride together. On the scarce occasions when we did speak, we only ever bonded over 1980s synth pop... but they were terribly significant conversations and I had the tendency to retain them, as I had the tendency to retain everything.

Again, both myself and my best friend, Missy Laur had to deal with this problem, this scarcity of time issue that tended to pervade every aspect of this absurd (and thoroughly implausible) partnership. Missy Laur and I whinced and made endless lists. We aggressively crossed out song names and with every strike-through came three new "consequential additions". It was a list that was impossible to cull.

Perhaps if the car-ride had been 1,115 minutes long instead of 15, I could have included all the songs TAFKATC was responsible for. All that New Order, Erasure, Depeche Mode, The Smiths and The Cure. But this was my task and my challenge. It was an ordeal to deal with the technological restraints of his feeble MiniDisc and my rickety 90-minute cassette, but I loved it. I would have made more: The Formal Mixes - Volumes 1 to 250.

But now when I drive and listen to this cassette, I am baffled by some of my song choices. Paul Van Dyk's For an Angel? Basement Jaxx's Bingo Bango? Really? Some other song inclusions make more sense, such as the brilliant New Order megamix and Erasure's I Love Saturday from their 1994 album, I Say, I Say, I Say.

It was TAFKATC's objection to the degenerated sound quality of I Love Saturday that sticks out most in my memory of that whole car-ride. You see, Missy Laur and I had dubbed that song from my mix-tape to her mix-tape to my mix-tape (and so forth). It was emblematic, it somehow signified the love and reverence both she and I shared for this song.

Perhaps I was naive in thinking that this kind of connection could have existed for both him and I? Was I mad in imagining such a thing?


Nothing in this world can touch the music that I heard...
If only I could have imagined what would follow, some ten years later. TAFKATC sent me an email with the subject line, FAC, requesting my company to see New Order at Festival Hall. My 15 minutes had been extended to a full 90 minute set and I couldn't help but giggle as we sent texts to each other, dreaming of what songs they should play (and what cover band we'd inevitably form when Barney fails to meet our expectations).

I tend to let my memories slip by when I think of TAFKATC. I am far too embarrassed to acknowledge the youthful flirtatiousness I once had... but then I can't help but feel it still when he looks at me, when he entertains my musings. I don't care to ever forget the moment before the band even started, when he handed me his plastic cup of beer to sip: "You're still 17." He smiled. I could hardly disguise my grin in response. "I'll always be 17."

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Funk & Soul Podcast #41
Munk - Kick out the Chairs
Clairy Browne & The Bangin' Rackettes - Love Letter
Billy Paul - Am I Black Enough For You
John Legend - Used To Love U
India Arie - Video
Colonel Abrams - Trapped
Stevie Wonder - Part-Time Lover
Frankie Lymon & the Teenagers - Why Do Fools Fall In Love?

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I was 13 when it was brought to my attention that I had particularly "gay" taste in music. We were in Health class at the time, Hannah and I were discussing Freddie Mercury in distressingly minute detail when our teacher overheard us talking. She approached us and openly scoffed, promptly announcing to the class that Queen were a "gay band" and to like them was to "be gay". I was overwrought with such bigotry and with heated cheeks, I spluttered a clumsily-constructed argument: "I love Freddie's songs, I love his voice. I don't see how that makes me gay, how does that make anyone gay? What does musical taste have to do with sexual orientation?" My Health teacher remained incredulous and unconvinced. Even though many years have passed since then, I continue to be intrigued by that confrontation. I am still trying to figure out what relationship, if any, exists between musical taste and sexuality.

Assigning a sexual orientation to song, band or musical movement has always seemed to be offensive to my sensibilities. This became relevant when I developed a particularly intense affinity with synthpop, some ten years ago. I knew that others had associated synthpop with gay subculture, namely due to its heavy reliance upon exaggerated aesthetics, flamboyant imagery and camp extravagance. It was something clearly identifiable in the cross-dressing shenanigans of Erasure's clip Take A Chance On Me. Even still, I didn't see how my love for this genre had any relevance to my being a straight fourteen year old girl. I could listen to songs like Erasure's I Love Saturday, the Pet Shop Boys' Tonight is Forever or Depeche Mode's See You and still strongly identify with the romance of these lyrics. To me, it is the ambiguous treatment of pronouns that makes the lyrics in synthpop so intensely relateable. Particularly in the earlier work of these artists, there is rare mention any gender specifically. There are simply universal notions of sublime love and affection.

This issue takes on a fascinating dimension when purportedly "straight" indie bands borrow from imagery from a gay context. The Smiths, in particular, employed feminine imagery in their live stage show, where Morrissey would sport a woman's blouse and stuff gladioli flowers in his back pocket (if you could ever imagine it). The illusion was further enhanced by Morrissey's aggressively emphatic claims to asexuality in the British musical press. Brett Anderson of Suede would similarly flirt with notions of sexual ambiguity, from the suggestive "have you ever tried it that way?" in Pantomime Horse to the more provocative proclamation "I suppose I'm a bisexual who has never had a homosexual experience". The British musical press, again, sought to obsessively clarify and re-clarify the exact nature of Brett's sexual inclination. They wanted to know exactly what he meant by that, why? Why was it relevant or even necessary to dissect the sexual appetites of Morrissey, Brett Anderson or even David Bowie or Brian Molko? Is this knowledge really necessary in assessing how we engage with their persona? Does it make us feel any differently about their music?

That what we would traditionally label as "indie" continues to have a taste of sexual subversion, but these days it is far more subtle. It is present in the suggestive lyrics of Michael by Franz Ferdinand or in the clip of the Strokes song Juicebox, but such imagery is rarely controversial. Contemporary indie capitalises upon the unacknowledged truth of taste: that the most refined form of sexual attractiveness is the adoption of physical attributes from the opposite sex. Indie musicians adopt feminine attributes in private, they apply eyeliner, put on skinny girls' jeans and use expensive hair straighteners. The feminine influence is far from overt, but it is detectable. Sometimes it even gets to a point where androgyny becomes so latent in a musician's appearance that you begin to think that there isn't the intensely insidious breed of homophobia, that maybe there is no relationship between musical taste and sexuality. But then you see instances of Kele Okereke, having to account for the meaning and sexual intent of every Bloc Party song and then you realise that people still care, people will always care. Because as much as you want to detach musical taste and sexuality, they will always be inextricably linked.


So on that note, I leave you with today's podcast, Electro Podcast #15. I would be interested to hear your views on this topic, so be sure to write me a comment.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Electro Podcast #15
Robyn - Cobrastyle
Hot Chip - Arrest Yourself
Frankmusik - Confusion Girl (Don Diablo Loves To Slowdance Mix)
Pet Shop Boys - Email
Erasure - When I Needed You (Melancholic Mix)
New Kids on the Block - Hold On
Milli Vanilli - Is It Love?
Sliimy - Wake Up

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When I stop talking for a little while, I am usually thinking about London. I am usually thinking about a particular spot in Camden or the fake Roman antiquities in the Victoria and Albert Museum. I am usually thinking about dancing til my legs ache at some random indie club in Soho.. or else I am thinking about the colour of the morning sky on the bus ride back to Seven Sisters.

Sometimes I think about how I rushed about to get a last minute ticket to New Order in Hyde Park. It was where we first met, standing next to each other, watching the Psychedelic Furs. I had asked to see his program. It was very new-fangled in that it was laminated like a backstage pass. You see, I was lost - there were no freely available programs.

We spent the whole day together, walking in a muddied field, engaged in deep conversation. We talked about musical interests that (we believed) precious few shared. I so vividly remember how he described the significance of the Pet Shop Boys' This Must Be The Place I've Waited Years To Leave. I have no doubt in my mind that I told him of my profound love of Erasure's album The Innocents. We laughed and gushed, walking from tent to tent, stage to stage, talking about his musical writing and my radio fumbling. He was very obliging in letting me watch all the bands I'd wished to see that day: Battle, Graham Coxon, Fischerspooner and the Dears.

We were muddied and drenched when New Order started playing, yet it was perfect. I couldn't have imagined a circumstance like it. There were moments in New Order's set, their cadences, drum beats, lyrics and hooks that resonated so strongly. It seemed so terribly apt yet so wholly unexpected when they played Run Wild. I couldn't believe I was there.

We organised to meet up late Monday night, four days later. I remember him waiting outside the fake Marquee Club in Leicester Square. I was late of course. We had originally planned to go to a New Romantic club night in Oxford Circus. However, no real event really eventuated that night. Yet, somehow it was one of the most exciting nights of my life. Andrew, Gaby, He and I sat on the edge of the Piccadilly Circus fountain, sitting, talking and laughing all night long. It must have been one or two o'clock in the morning when we started to walk in circles around the center of London. From Piccadilly Circus to Soho to Oxford Circus, back to Piccadilly Circus and Leicester Square to Trafalgar Square... and then back again. I remember the precise moment when I wished for him to hold my hand, he was speaking about London by the Smiths. I don't ever think I'd ever felt as much relief as when he did.

It seems like a totally mythical scenario, in retrospect. It was just like any of the songs we talked about: Tonight is Forever by the Pet Shop Boys, There is a Light That Never Goes Out by the Smiths, But Not Tonight by Depeche Mode. Nowadays, the memory seems to live in that strictly musical realm, that farfetched realm, that thoroughly perfect realm. Sometimes I have to stop talking for a little while longer to wonder if it really happened at all.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Electro Podcast #12
Röyksopp - Happy Up Here
Pet Shop Boys - Love etc
Danger - 11h30
Whitest Boy Alive - Gravity
Hercules in NY - Deadweight
Dr Baker - Kaos (from Budbrain Megademo I)
Bitmap Brothers - Gods
Bomb the Bass - Megablast (from Xenon II)

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