My Fickle Lips

Do you remember all your ‘firsts’ with a bit of extra affection than your all the ‘rests’? First bike… first car? Fab stuff like your first tattoo? First paycheque, or your first DRINK drink? First boyfriends? First loves? First KISSES?! Now I’m onto something…

I’m 34. So I suppose, in the grand scheme of things I’ve had a respectable reasonable amount of first kisses. On a scale of Mormon to Call Girl? I’m a good solid seven-and-a-half. All catalogued in chronological order in a dusty corner of my brain; a looping, swirling ‘Naughty/Nice’ list in my mind.

In my few unoccupied moments, I confess I sometimes allow my mind to wander back over them (oh shut up, you SO do it, too...) amusing myself with memories of a time when:

a) my arse was smaller

b) my hair was shorter

c) my standards were lower

d) all of the above.

It’s a decent read, my little kiss list: “initially sloppy with gradual improvement” ... “tastes of black liquorice” … “head-swirlingly fantastic smelling” ... “hands in my hair OMG,OMG,OMG”, etc. etc.

But it got me to thinking: if you look a little closer, interspersed between the fellas you will see a comprehensive musical soundtrack (no surprises there) which – it has to be said – is just as fascinating to me now as were Mr Swirlyhead and his contemporaries then. In the gaps between the names is where you will find my musical relationships.

And what a tangled web! I’m not just talking about my propensity to fall in love with guitar players - a blog post in itself – but so sweet was the booty call of some ‘first’ songs that I would often rush out and buy the bands’ entire back catalogue in one fell swoop. The indelible impression that those ‘firsts’ made on me have now taken their rightful place as the cornerstones of my entire collection.

I’d like to share a few of those kisses with you now:

The Jesus & Mary Chain – Head On: as if their name alone wasn’t enough to appeal to my naturally rebellious nature, their bass player only ever had two strings on his guitar and was once quoted as saying, “That's the two I use. I mean, what's the fucking point spending money on another two? Two is enough." Swoon!

The Pixies – Wave of Mutilation (UK Surf Mix): it was Christian Slater in ‘Pump Up the Volume’ that made me love The Pixies. Would that Google Images existed back then so I could see what a cock ring really was... but I digress:  what a beautiful song.

The Catherine Wheel – Crank: the video for this is a little wacko, granted. But not wacko enough to stop me from practicing writing my signature as ‘Mrs Nicola Dickinson’ after their delectable lead singer. Best (and most often) listened to at the absolute volume limits on my car stereo.  Another CW track forever burned on my brain is Black Metallic – check it out – to liken this track to a mere kiss would be a gross injustice of an underestimate... listen with headphones, loud, and when you get to about the 6:06 mark you’ll understand exactly what I mean.

The Cult – Wildflower: almost IMPOSSIBLE to choose a single distinguishable track from The Cult’s ‘Electric’ record because they are all damn dirty and delicious. I credit this record for how I can (almost) play the drums. My first ever “proper” boyfriend was a drummer; mad on The Cult. I was the tambourine shimmy to his bass drum thud, lemme tell ya. Sweet record. And also? Ian Astbury’s hair. Ssssslurp.

That’s enough for now – I’m spent. Music is a fickle business, and I will always be its shamelessly loyal bitch.