Adventures in Solitude

Music… I’m pretty sure this is the case for most people, but for me, I associate moments of existence through music. Sometimes this can be a negative connection but most of the time, positive.

For instance, I recall the 1980s being best remembered for the poor fare that I was exposed to as a runt growing up in SLBC-only Sri Lanka. It was only perhaps the early 1990s where music became something ‘cool’, and I vividly recall balmy nights with November Rain permanently on in the background. Back then, the epitome of cool. I still watch the video with fascination every time it comes on, perhaps for the blend of story-telling, good music and the fact that it represents Guns n’ Roses’ descent into over-the-top extravagance.

If we fast-forward to the last year of school, in the run-up to the dreaded A-Levels, I remember music for all the wrong reasons. Firstly, all we seemed to get was Britney’s Baby One More Time, and courtesy of my room-mate, Armand van Helden’s U Don’t Know Me, which went to #1 in the UK. It was also the height of ‘clubbing’ music, courtesy Pete Tong and Paul Oakenfeld. Not really my scene. Perhaps because it was not the most happiest time of my life, I remember music as factors that exacerbated rather than alleviated. Sri Lanka’s 1999 World Cup campaign ended in misery. Even the high point of the year, Manchester United’s last minute comeback in the Champions League final happened during the Easter break.

Most of the time it’s positive. University is associated with the awakening of my Pixies fascination, and the consummation of my REM indulgence. I managed to pick up all the albums of both bands. Indeed, I remember the summer of 2001 as one of Reconstruction of the Fables in Bryant Park, New York, while I researched my undergraduate dissertation. I don’t know why, but I associate that album with that time.

What I’m trying to say is picking five albums to serenade myself on a desert island is a thankless task. I suppose the first thing to decide is whether you want to be on the island for the long haul, or whether this existence is not for you. A critical question then is whether I’d be able to take plenty of beer with me (a quick calculation suggests that there’d have to be a bar on the damned island). If not, are there facilities for the brewing of an arrack-like concoction? If neither are true, then I may drift towards the latter option. In which case, the suggested albums would be very different, no? Ok Computer by Radiohead springs to mind, and perhaps Lou Reed’s Berlin and a Smiths album or two. Throw in some Leonard Cohen and I think I may have chewed my arm off after a day or two. Problem solved.

This would somewhat defeat the point of the exercise so let’s pretend I have a bar on the island. So, in no particular order:

1. Doolittle by Pixies. One of the greatest albums ever and there’s no way I was going anywhere without it. That said, I was a bit torn. Intuitively, Trompe Le Monde is the Pixies album that I’d associate more with being stuck on a desert island. In the end, I have to go for Doolittle. The snarl of Debaser would be enough to get my psyched up for any day in the middle of nowhere. And I could imagine myself drifting away from the island on A Wave of Mutilation.

2. New Adventures in Hi-Fi by R.E.M. I don’t have a particular favourite among R.E.M albums but this would be the one that I’d take pack up to a desert island. It’s also the last album by the old R.E.M so has added nostalgic value.

3 . Songs for the Deaf by Queens of the Stone Age. In my humble opinion, the most rocking album of the 21st century. It simply kicks ass. The year of my Master’s – 2002/3 – was defined by this album.

4. Teenager of the Year by Frank Black. His second solo album, and much under-rated – a thing of beauty. A bonus is that it has twenty two songs. All the better for the long mornings to while away.

5. Antics by Interpol. Great stuff. I’d have to sneak a pirated Sri Lankan version that has bonus copies of PDA and NYC as it’s a close run thing between this album and their first album Turn on the Bright Lights.

6. Set Yourself on Fire by Stars. I’m taking this along because it’s my most played album at the moment, and shouldn’t we live in the moment? After all, nothing much else happening on a deserted island.

Five? What? Did someone say five discs? Pfft.

Where’s that beer?