The course couldn’t have come at a better time because I was at an angst-ridden point in my life; uni had gone and as great Nottingham was, job-wise there was very little around so most people had returned home and nights out mostly consisted of me and a dancefloor; usually 80s night at The Rig, a bar underneath Nottingham's Rock City, where it was only £1 to get in on certain nights. It didn't help that I was hopelessly in love with someone I'd met during the summer but was out of bounds. But actually it was brilliant because my moody state made for some great writing. I feel very lucky because even when I’m down I can inject enough humour usually makes the text believable.
Having said that, musically my tastes did make a notable shift. It was partly down to leaving Radio 1 behind. As the new millennium arrived the station effectively dumped most of my favourite artists because they were considered too old/no longer relevant, etc. Even to this day I'm very open-minded about music but everything about Radio 1 took a nosedive: its playlists became narrower, I never really took to the garage scene, and, worse, the new chavved up DJs were laughably fake.
Trouble was, I couldn't really find a definitive alternative. Radio 2, despite hoovering up several of the acts dumped by Radio 1, was still too middle of the road, but then again didn't have any advert breaks, which annoyed me too much to listen to local radio, and that was going the same way as Radio 1 anyway. I ended up listening to XFM for a while but got irritated by its Britpop-esque snobbiness. Yes, OK, you play 'decent' music but when you playlist a Sugababes record and say, 'That was Richard X [the producer] there, versus the Sugababes with 'Freak like me'" you know it's not the station for you. Come on, play some 'cheesy' stuff occasionally and don't be ashamed; it'll do you good.
Whatever, gone were the party anthems and suddenly I found myself listening to more and more downbeat singer-songwriters. Perhaps it was linked to the poems I was writing but melancholy music seemed somewhat appropriate, albeit on a subconscious basis.
27 David Gray - Please forgive me
I listened to David Gray's debut album, White Ladder, incessantly. I could have been boring and chosen Babylon but it's become ubiquitous over the years so I've opted for this instead, the opening track and also a single. A touching but angst-ridden love song.
28 Tom McRae - Bloodless
I discovered Tom McRae at, of all places, a Dido concert, where he was the support act. Usually the support somewhat washes over me but this guy was different. His songs were eerie but strangely memorable and the sound was particularly intriguing as he had an electric violinist on stage to complement his more familiar acoustic guitar. His voice also had a unique twist; it took me ages to think of a comparison and the best I could do was Feargal Sharkey with a softer tone.
When I saw McRae's name on the annual Mercury Music Prize sample album, his eponymous debut, I had a listen and knew I had to buy it immediately. He's not had any commercial success, which isn't that surprising given the somewhat dark nature of his songs, but I actually quite liked that because he became a sort of secret artist that only I and a cult following knew about. I saw him in concert on a few occasions and he was always superb, although one Observer reviewer mocked the atmosphere. "It's quiet. It's too quiet," he wrote. Part of me agreed with that but ultimately he was playing in smallish, intimate venues with an audience who wanted to listen rather than bounce around near the stage.
29 Black Box Recorder - The facts of life
So now I was a man and had to fend for myself. Well, not really. I just took the easy route like others did and returned to rent-free life at home in Northampton. I also had the benefit of a car for the first time and a rewarding - albeit badly paid - job at a mental hospital. But I was depressed by my lack of a love life and it got the better of me sometimes.
This song, though, was and is a good snapshot of my personality in general. I should have hated the lyrics because they had a sort of 'I told you so' feel about them but I smiled when I heard them. It's easier said than done and it's true.
30 Flaming Lips - Yoshimi battles the pink robots
In late 2000 I found myself accepting a job in London. I love living in London now but, like for many people, it felt a daunting prospect at the time for someone who had mainly lived in modest-sized towns. Luckily, a good friend from Northampton was living in Watford and as it was a popular commuter belt it seemed a decent option, especially as it was also close to the M1 and M25. So I lived there for six eventful years. Quite a few tales to tell and as there's material for a future blog I'll leave it at that for a while.
Anyway, a work colleague liked Flaming Lips and when I told him how much I loved this song he gave me a copy of the album of the same name and I instantly loved it; full of quirky pop songs with strong hooks. For a while I thought at least half of the songs were KLF-esque nonsense lyrically but then I read an interview with singer Wayne Coyne, who said the album was a reflection of how precarious our existence is.
I felt a bit embarrassed when I listened to the album again. In this particular song the pink robots represented cancer and the sufferer was trying to beat it. I just assumed Yoshimi, a Japanese girl with a black belt in karate, was a random cartoon character based on the band's popularity in Japan. To be honest I almost wish I hadn't read the interview because I find the album quite difficult to listen to nowadays.
31 REM - Leaving New York
I'd always liked REM but lyrically a lot of their songs had a 'what does this actually mean' element. So for me this was the band's finest moment; a really moving song with powerful and thought-provoking lyrics. "It's easier to leave than to be left behind" is up there with my favourites because I can't work out whether I agree with it or not.
Obviously each individual is different and objectively leaving is probably the better option but because I'm too loyal for my own good - in the job I mentioned above I stayed until the bitter end despite knowing the company wouldn't last - it's a tough call. Leaving could potentially lead to regret and that's not healthy. Then again, life can bite you on the arse and I've learned you should never take anything for granted.
32 Youssou N'Dour featuring Neneh Cherry - 7 seconds
Karaoke changed everything. Absolutely everything. I'd always liked karaoke but in the past it had always been a one-off event; a sixth-form social night or a birthday bash at a pub, for example. Unbeknown to me, though, London was packed full of weekly karaoke nights at pubs and bars, with fellow karaoke obsessives. I got a tip-off from a family friend who found out I liked karaoke. She worked in a bar next to Piccadilly Circus tube and told me there was a karaoke night there every Monday.
Callaghan's was a truly wonderful place and seeing it close after the lease of the building expired at the end of 2007 was gut-wrenching. It was the sort of place where you could go alone and no-one would bat an eyelid, and suddenly my guard disappeared and my real outgoing personality emerged. My mongrel accent, previously mocked by several people at school, attracted a lot of "you are sooooo English" attention from foreign women. Having a floppy fringe helped because I could exploit it to impersonate Hugh Grant. I met some fantastic people there, including my partner.
Some of you may have noticed that I've abandoned listing the year after the title and this song is just one of a few on here that doesn't match the particular period so I thought it was pointless. I've included 7 seconds, a hit back in 1994, as it remains to this day my favourite ever karaoke performance at Callaghan's.
One of the regulars, a local singer and actress, said it was one of her favourite songs and was frustrated she couldn't sing it. "Er, I'll do it with you," I said. She thought I was joking. "Look, it's listed here, right at the back of the book." She replied, "But none of the male parts are sung in English." I said, "So? I love this song and know it well enough to blag it."
So up on stage we went and it was truly brilliant. The Senegalese first verse was a tough hurdle but when the lyrics are displayed on the monitor it's always a safety net. I knew I had to raise my game for the chorus and it really worked; our voices really complemented one another. The French verse was slightly easier as I could speak it a little so pronunciation wasn't a problem. But there is a rapid burst towards the end of the verse and I found myself singing tongue-tied gobbledegook for a couple of seconds. I got a round of applause from a growing audience, which increased with the final word, 'changer'. Then came smiles and on-stage chemistry; fuck the screen, we knew what we were doing. It was a proper duet. Admittedly there was still the 'miiiiiillion voiceeeeeeeeeeees' bit left but I did OK.
Of course, there's always a chance I was actually crap but there's no footage available. But I'm very confident our duet was better than this, a hilarious musical car crash.
33 Sivan Shavit - Kartis tisa
So as I mentioned above, I met my partner at Callaghan's in September 2005. Initially we both thought it would be just a summer romance as she had to return to her native Israel to complete her studies in November. But we soon found out it was more than that, especially when we started doing 'coupley' things like arguing all the time creating our own phrases, inventing new words and laughing at in-jokes that popped up. We unofficially split up when she left the UK but kept in constant touch during evenings via Messenger, with the shared experience of listening to Galgalatz, an Israeli radio station, while we were chatting.
The station was great, playing contemporary chart music, and that of course included Israeli artists as well. This song was one of my favourites, a classic singer-songwriter tune with an irresistible chorus. 'Kartis tisa' is Hebrew for flight ticket. I bought one in February 2006 for a week's visit...
34 Metropolin - Bli lomar milah (Without saying a word)
After a blissful seven days in Israel, including a spell in the southern holiday resort of Eilat, where the average temperature was 35 degrees but tempered by the sea breeze, I found myself back at Heathrow shivering at 4 degrees in the pouring rain.
The flight was emotional. At Tel Aviv airport my other half bought me the debut album by Metropolin - another act I discovered on Galgalatz - and it was very hard to listen to on the plane as I was in tears. But at the same time it kept me occupied. Bli lomar milah was the final track on the album; a depressing duet about a man walking out on a woman without saying a word. Thankfully I didn't follow suit and against the odds we maintained a long-distance relationship. A happy ending.
35 Alex Winston - Choice notes
Good grief, I need a break so let's talk about music. In the late noughties the industry took a turn for the better with the beginning of the download era. To reflect the growing popularity of downloads, the UK chart decided to allow download sales and suddenly the charts became interesting again as chart behaviour returned to its traditional past and some records charted low but gained momentum and climbed to their peak on merit.
It also meant more and more music from various eras were available at cheap prices and you could source songs and download them any time. Obscure songs from TV adverts became very fruitful because you could google 'what's that song from the x advert' and instantly find out who the artist was and go from there. I did it with this song, 'that one from the Hyundai ix20 advert'.
36 Savage Garden - To the moon and back
Aaaaaargh, good god no! In fairness I had to include this because it shaped a whole blog post. So click here to open a new window and learn more. Come on, you know you want to.
37 Basement Jaxx - Where's your head at?
At the age of 32 I was diagnosed with a brain tumour after collapsing with a seizure in a bar after a karaoke performance. The diagnosis took a hell of a long time - in hospital they just assumed I'd fainted - but thankfully my other half was more persistent than me and persuaded the hospital doctor to refer me for a CT scan after I suffered another major seizure during my sleep. The scan revealed an abnormality and a subsequent MRI confirmed there was a tumour.
Worse was to follow when a surgeon decided it was too dangerous to remove despite another doctor having predicted it would be possible. Clutching at straws, the good news was that firstly the tumour was stable; and secondly it was a rare brain tumour that could be treated. Half-yearly MRI scans for several years showed no growth but in 2013 there was a development when a new scan revealed an abnormal flow of blood around the tumour and my neurologist went into semi-panic mode, suddenly wondering if the original diagnosis had been correct. So in October I had a biopsy and thankfully he had made the right call.
During the recovery period I was bored and based on my best Northampton mate's idea to concoct an imaginary playlist based on my condition - Spinning around by Kylie and Fall at your feet by Crowded House being examples - I thought of others and Where's your head at? was the obvious stand-out. A tiny part of my brain had been examined; thankfully my sense of humour wasn't stolen. Top tune and one of my favourite ever videos.
38 Chvrches - The down side of me
In 2015 I was very down and quite angry. I had assumed the blood flow issue was no longer a major concern. My neurologist had feared it was a sign the tumour was waking up, yet for whatever reason my MRI scans stopped and I had to request another because things just weren't right. The frequency of my seizures - only minor ones now thanks to medication - had shot up; it had been between 5 and 10 a month, but it became nearer 20 and sometimes more than once per day. Sure enough the tumour was now malignant and, to put it politely, I was staggered by the complacency of it all. Three weeks later and I was handed over to an oncologist who wanted me to start radiotherapy and chemo as soon as possible.
I became reclusive and avoided get-togethers with friends as I had nothing positive to say and didn't want to bring the mood down. I felt a bit guilty about that because I was open with my work colleagues about the situation but I had to be as my working hours became erratic. Six weeks of energy-sapping radiotherapy and three rounds of torturous chemo later I desperately needed a song to lift my spirits and drag me back out of my shell. This was it; an uplifting and touching gospel ballad that described my state of mind perfectly.
39 Keren Ann - Not going anywhere
A really beautiful stripped-down song and I often listen to it when I'm in a reflective mood. Its melancholy nature hits the spot and lyrically it's intriguing because on first listen I just assumed it was a love song. Part of me still thinks it is but the overwhelming theme appears to be loneliness and the resignation that people and life in general move on. Talking of which...
40 Take That - Never forget
A very special song that becomes more and more poignant the older you get. At university we had a weekly student night at the campus called Shipwrecked, where drinks were cheap and everyone got, well, shipwrecked. It became tradition for the DJ to play Never forget as the final song of the night. Everyone remaining on the dancefloor would get into a circle, arms round shoulders and then break to fling them in the air when the 'neeeeeeever' line came in.
At my bestie's wedding a few years ago I was about to collect my stuff and leave as we were nearing the end but she shouted, "Kris, Kris, come back!". I heard the intro to the song and we recreated the student circle for the first time in about 15 years. Quite a moving moment. We were still so young and we hoped for more.
