Monday, 21 May 2012

Music Monday: Finley Quaye

This afternoon I looked out of my classroom window and saw a strange, yellow, glowing thing in the sky.  I'm not sure whether the sun is here to stay, but I'm sure as hell glad to see it at last.

This song takes me back to summer's past.  For a couple of halcyon summers at the start of this century I devoted a lot of time to, for want of a better term, 'larging it'.  My friends and I spent every weekend together: indie or hip hop club night on Friday, Saturday in the park, then a house party on Saturday night blurring into Sunday morning; never actually going to bed until the final crash of Sunday afternoon.  I wrote at least half of my dissertation in the back garden of the party house at about 5am one weekend morning, as I chewed my face off and freaked out.  I got the highest mark of my whole university career.  Finley Quaye and his late nineties/early noughties contemporaries - Air, Beth Orton - were essential companions to our chilled out Sundays.  We'd lie around in the park (or if we couldn't face the outside world, in Andy's music room) listen to Sunday Shining and play truth or dare. 

Thankfully/unfortunately (delete depending on what kind of mood I'm in) my weekends are considerably more sedate nowadays.  But as soon as the sun comes out, this is the tune I rush to listen to.

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