Of Playlists, Tangerines Dreams & Sad Skinheads

I confess to having wasted several of my waking hours recently; a large portion of time last night, and again this morning. Only the part in between wasn’t a waste. And I berate myself for having done so whilst then again berating myself for being precious about time. It’s a no win situation.

   I spent most of last night compiling a Spotify list of music which few people will hear and even less will like because I don’t know where to put it and have few friends who enjoy electronic music as much as I do. Neither of them do.

   When it comes to posting playlists, I’ve visited a few sites, but their size, ironically, works against them as far as I’m concerned. When they tag music ‘electronic’ it could mean anything from cheesy house to dubstep. Finding what I like requires more (wasted) hours trawling through all the rubbish. It’s obvious that what’s needed is a really specialist outlet for this kind of thing. I’ve yet to find one. You know, a place where people know Black Dog from Skinny Puppy.

   If you’re aware of any good specialist playlist sites, please let me know.

   Here's the playlist anyway.

Speaking of electronic music, I can’t be alone in finding the phrase ‘tangerine dream’ used in reference to Blackpool FC’s success amusing/unsettling/weird. Because of the club’s kit, one of their nicknames is ‘The Tangerines’. A BBC reporter used the phrase last night and I’m sure she’s not the first. Have sales of TG recordings rocketed in Blackpool since their rise to the top league? Somehow, I doubt it. Do they play ‘Rubycon’ in the ground before matches? It seems unlikely. How many Blackpool residents have even heard of Tangerine Dream?

 Before Chelsea’s home games they play Harry J All-Stars’ ‘Liquidator’. There’s no better tune when it comes to recalling the glory days of skin’ead antics in The Shed. Not that football today wishes to look back on the heyday of football aggro with fondness. Neither do I, except to say that I was a skin’ead back then and so I can relate. I wasn’t a Shed regular (far too young), but I’m sure there are a few middle-aged men in the Matthew Harding Stand who get a lump in their throats when the tune plays...fondly recalling their nadsat years, when they derived much radosty from giving others a good kick in the yarbles.