It’s an odd thing to remember the first time you hear a song.
It’s normally attached to a special moment, a gig, hearing it in an unusual setting or it having some special meaning between the people hearing, something bringing them together.
Not this song, well, not for me.
This song helped changed my taste in music.
I remember putting the compilation album it was on with Claire and Kat in my front room on a Saturday morning. I’d grabbed the CD for the SU newspaper we worked on and I put it on in the background as we sat down to have a chat, all the while never occurring to me to make them a cup of tea. (Tea is rubbish btw)
And I remember that when this song finished the 3 of us commented that it was a good song, thought no more of it and then got on it whatever we were doing for the day. I don’t remember what that was.
But I never forgot this song.
If you could wear out a CD I would have given it a good try.
I scoured the record shops in the north east for the album and couldn’t find it. Aminata became the first thing I ever bought off the internet, straight form Matador records in New York.
I used this song as the sound track for my student film, and rubbish as it was, the opening sequence that it sound tracked, I’m still proud of. (wish I knew where it was to be sure of that)
But to cut a long story longer, that’s a lot of memory and attachment to a song. A song I heard first in 1996.
It’s the bass line. It’s such a lazy, fuzzy intro, it just takes you and draws you in. Even when the guitar joins it all just drifts lazily. When the singer,Isobel, joins in she is just another texture in the mix. It’s not until about 2:30 that everything kicks in that the song detonates. I have no idea how many effects pedals it takes to make the sound they unleash but on this song it sounds like all of them. It’s an absolute assault with out ever becoming over overpowering. Bands like Sonic Youth would have crushed the listener with white noise, Bardo Pond just envelop the listener in fuzz.
If guitar distortion could give you a warm hug, something to let you know that it’s all right that you’ll be fine, it would be this song.
I heard this song on a Saturday that’s forgotten, nothing remains of that day apart for the fact I heard this song on it.
That’s a hell of a thing to say about any art.
The ways of exile 