79 / 78
Not necessarily the correct numbers if I were to give it that much serious thought but something has obviously twigged in me today; and the minimalism of Last Man Standing is as good a segue into Musica Esporadica as any club tune could be in 80s Spanish minimalism so whatever. These two records have become inseparable to me now.
My granddad died late 2021- though I always called him by his first name, which we'll leave out. That's a hangover to when I was a kid, which I never shook; he had a heart attack when I was very young, 3 or 4, and I was in the house all the time as he recovered, it started then. My nan hated me using his name as it sounded like she "had a fancy man" when we were on holiday around people we didn't know. Odd these things. After the heart attack, to shield me from what actually happened, they told me he had tried to slide down the banister at home and fell off, which seemed to be enough for me, and I do vaguely remember joking about that; a very early memory. We used to go on big coach holidays with them to Spain, four or five years in a row before I started school. This is a jumble of thoughts but let's keep typing.
There was always music around the house with my grandparents, loads of classic scouse stuff but also weird collectable relics, too- he had been in the merchant navy as a kid, as had a lot of lads from the coastal ports I guess; the Americas, India, a bit of Eastern Asia. Brazil and Argentina were the places to go for him, apparently- I have yet to do either, though I will one day, even if they won't be the places he knew. So loads of latin music and also loads of soul and disco, Chic, AWB, Earth Wind & Fire etc etc.
I think growing up in a musical house- even if no-one could really play- means that there is a good energy to things. I would hate to have grown up in silence. Their house was the party house before I was born, late 70s cheap package travel to Spain meant parts of the world opening up again for my granddad so they were fucking right off, coming back with big suitcases full of duty-free and big stocked booze cupboards. Get everyone round, lash the records on, plow through the booze. My nan's notoriously big measures. Christmases when I was young were the same, all based around that kitchen table, loads of comings and goings, no wonder I have had my booze issues over the years; wanderlust
Anyway; covid got hold of both of them (the other side passed years ago, I was in my teens then and maybe it doesn't register as much), my nan first and him second. He beat the rona, though, even if my nan didn't, and managed to keep on going for another year, but it clearly beat the shit out of him.
Grief is a weird thing. With my nan it was a lot more immediate, I lost the plot in the hotel we stayed in completely. All day wake drinking, the weird trauma and then a half-empty chain hotel on the waterfront; but- three days and it was gone. After he passed, though, it coincided with a bit of NDA gardening leave from wherever it was I was working at the time, so I had this month to sit around and tie up loose ends; probably a spike of online activity for a bit. I started writing a book that I haven't finished. etc
Anyway: I started going through his old records- my auld fella got the vinyl but everything is streaming now anyway- and the Santana albums brought out these weird flashbacks of being a kid with them all, I think my dad had Moonflower and Abraxas in the car, they must have been records my nan & granddad played round the house when I was very young too. After talking about all this with other members of the family the Santana stuff was put down as a footnote, really; hungover sunday gear. But whatever, different things to different people- these are vivid childhood memories rushing back here. Oye como va
The only times I've ever felt any kind of connection with some kind of spirituality is through drugs like most normal people; herculean acid intake in my teens had me convinced that we die and become the wind, the clouds are big spirits dragging lads around, if you see one that looks like a dog then it was a serious dog spirit, all that.
I don't quite believe that sober- or anything, really- but I was in an altered state late one Friday going through all this music and Transendence came on and it hit me like a ton of bricks, not quite a flashback- I've never had an acid flashback, thankfully- but certainly some kind of mental jolt that fully exceeded what you would expect from what I was actually upto, even if it was late, I'd overdone it, and the missus was in bed. etc.
Anyway I had to turn it all off after that because it was too much for me, really; the lyrics, especially, all that. I had bought Musica Esporadica a few weeks before and had to use that as a palate cleanser. It is a very zen record; stasis. After that I was alright and I think I had a nightcap and went to sleep.
The next day I did try out Transendence again, it didn't have the same effect thank god but it is a great record. Unbelievable mixdown.
They are in reverse order here because it will fuck up the playlist sequencing otherwise. God knows why I started thinking of this today but now it is here and it may not remain up as I don't like putting myself online these days really.