the musical regression

I turn 24 tomorrow.

And because I failed at my original New Year's resolutions in the first 22 days of the year and in perhaps in true narcissistic fashion I've decided to set some for my 24th year on this planet.

But of course resolutions are there to alter things you may have done wrong in the past and make you better in some shape or form

CAUTION: Tenuous link ahead.

I got to thinking about possible resolutions whilst shuffling along my iTunes library. A categorical who's who of quite awful music. (But with a few exceptions) it occurred to me I'm going through what I have now dubbed "The Musical Regression".
The Musical Regression is listening to music of your youth over and over again in a bid to capture some of the memories that those songs evoke.

I know. Pretty tw**ish.

But hear me out. We all have those songs that you play to remind you of certain times. Like listening to "Fairytale of New York" on the run up to Christmas, or how when the spark of the grill sparks off nostalgia, you have to listen to the Fresh Prince's new definition of summer madness.

And it all starts off with...

the first single

This is like one of those abhorrent first date questions. At least it is in the movies. And the guy will always have an interesting answer that he bought his first single from a record shop in 1976. Alas I'm just not that cool. And in the interest of honesty. I'll come clean. The first single I ever bought was:



I know. Awful, awful, awful.

Although a great song. There's no excusing that my first foray into Woolworths to buy a single was Cleopatra No. 3 cover of Jackson Five's "I want you back". It's bordering on the unforgivable. And I understand I've lost some serious Man Points.

I'd like to say this was an innocent mistake. A mere blip on the radar of my good taste but it was just the sign of things to come. Because it wasn't long until I fell in love...

the first crush



Britney Jean Spears was her name and the once scantily clad schoolgirl has broken my heart with more engagements than I can bear to remember.
as a teenager you can't publically declare your love for pop's greatest star since MJ without getting beaten up. So I moved on from pop via mere segue into the world of urban pop and then hardcore RnB. all thanks to one film.

Yes Save the Last Dance sparked off the popularity for fish out of water newbie's whore redeemed themselves through the magic of dance.



Two Step with me now.

Accompanying this average film was a soundtrack which was like the beginner's guide to RnB and the teens loved it. Including me. And so began my foray into baggy jeans, Timberlands and oversized polo shirts occasionally accompanied by a visit to Jacob the Jeweller's Pakistani equivalent; Junaid the Jeweller.

But then came the OC. (who said teens are easily influenced?) Yes the OC beautiful people with ugly problems. This was the first time I saw someone just like me on TV: Seth Cohen. The geek who got the girl. I salute you.



With the OC came several soundtracks and of course The Killers. The jeans became skinnier. The polos slimmer and it became acceptable to borrow your sister's GHDs. if she let you.



This was a simple time when you would fight anyone who said the Kooks were shit and Johnny Borrel was dick.

OK you wouldn't fight someone over it but at least get angry about when you were alone

A sign that things took a darker teenage angst turn and quite similar to "Save the Last Dance.

I tailed spinned (span?) via several indie films (and who am I kidding Grey's Anatomy) all of which introduced me to the dark world of The Shins and the melancholy of Beirut.



So now I'm stuck in an endless circle that begins with Manchester's favourite three piece sister group (Cleopatra) and ends with the discography to the Wes Anderson films via several Bollywood hits along the way.

Ah well, with age comes wisdom.

Maybe not...




theguyinthebowtie