Obscure
Summer 2008 was a good one, a great one, for me. I'd been playing with my band around two years by then (and still going strong, although not without several minor and major crises since then), and that long, long summer after A-levels when there is absolutely nothing to worry about in the world was spent gigging. Pretty much every weekend was spent taking enormous journeys across the length and breadth of the country, meeting beautiful people, making them happy with music, and generally having a right old laugh with six other people who I would count as my closest friends. How lucky we are, and have been, to play in such a big band where everyone gets along famously!

Yes, that was freedom, genuinely footloose and fancy free, I had no money but I didn't really need any. The van was full with finkbrau, the cheapest beer aldi practically give away, and you can feed eight people for twenty pounds a day thanks to Asda's roast chicken. Happier times I can't recall, especially since it was really the first time I'd tasted that sort of carefreeness.

One of the reasons I think that line-up of the band worked so well is all of us had different musical backgrounds and tastes; song-writing never came hard to us because someone would always come up with the perfect solution to a problem that no one else would have seen. It also made the soundtracks to our long trips in the van a real education, everyone sharing their knowledge and enthusiasm for what was out there musically. One album we listened to over and over again, though, was by band called RX Bandits. It's called ...And the Batte Begun, and while I doubt many of you have heard of it, repeated listening has lead me to the conclusion that there is no more perfectly conceived album ever. Sure, it has its flaws, as do all artistic endeavours, but I honestly think it is a musical high watermark and a genuinely astounding piece of art, not to mention a lot of fun and sometimes achingly beautiful.

So this perfect album was played again and again, each time only being improved by the perfection of my life during those golden few months and improving them each time in turn. A symbiosis of wonderfulness, if you will.

Am I crazy
Cause I want to touch your skin,
Is it ludicrous,
That I've got nothing to believe in, that was
Built by human hand,
Or controlled by demand?
So if love it true,
Lets burn the factory,
Take of your shoes, babe,
It's time for dancing.

Eh, song lyrics always somehow look less good written down, but my spine tingles every time I hear it, the sort of beginning to an album that makes you sit up and take notice, that hints that what's to follow may be something a bit special. Every time I'm transported back to being with my dear friends doing crazy things in the back of our van in the sun.
(WarneMarsh My priority for frivolity begets quality jollity, Thu 28 Jan 2010, 18:11, Reply)