Anniversary.

The approach of the 2nd of February is heralding a particular anniversary in my life, the fifth to be precise. It's not an occasion for celebration, unless one celebrates the fact that one is still alive, and I'll not, at this point in time, elaborate on the details of this particular event, which acted as a kind-of 'Ground Zero' for me, a moment after-which all the rules changed and nothing was the same again. It really is that significant, and although I must not dwell on it, I'm of such a disposition whereby I will and do.
Strangely enough though, it's not my particular misfortune of that point in time in 2004 which is currently proving difficult for me to deal with, it was an event which occurred around two months later, when my own troubles were still extremely fresh, hence the ease of recall at this time of year.
My magnetism towards a particular track on a CD, a home compilation recently given to me by a very dear friend, has also been accentuating what is in essence a great sense of loss.

Some years back, twenty-three to be precise, I began working part-time at a local supermarket in the town where I lived. I was at school at the time and the income helped me to finance my increasingly addictive book and record habit, (I wasn't content with simply doing my paper-rounds in the morning and evening. True culture-junkie, me).
Working re-stocking the frozen foods, my direct manager was a man of at-least a decade my senior. Tall, handsome, as cool as my work station, he was the epitome of the culture at the time, that of the 1980's New Romantic era. He had it all; the full-length coat, the 'one-eye' side-parting, and the record collection and Hi-Fi to provide the soundtrack to his own place in the movement. He was also as rapier-witted as anyone I could ever aspire to emulate, and also a gentleman...a true gentleman. We hit it off immediately; mainly because of an immense meeting of minds on the music and literature front, although the fact that he was a beacon to humanity was also a facet which gave me great reason to admire him immeasurably.
The friendship developed away from work, with me regularly spending time across Manchester with he and his family. We kept in-touch beyond the moment when he moved to another branch of the store, with us co-attending concerts, etc, and simply doing the pub thing when I was of an age so to do.
Of course, time moves on, with personal ambition and direction precipitating that paths part. Typical of this natural social phenomenon, our contact reduced hugely, to the point where it was perhaps a six-monthly call or meeting, then later simply relying on serendipity alone. Regrettable, but that's the way that shit rolls.

I'm playing this CD, just a little too much of late. The throwaway remark from passive listeners punished by one overplaying an album or one track in particular was that "You'll wear the grooves out on that." Understandable and quite possible with the natural vibration source of an analogue recording, but I'm a little concerned that it may also occur with digital data on a CD. It's that bad, especially for one particular track.
So what's on this disc, given to me by a man who really is in the know when it comes to quality? Spread over twelve selections, there are five artists, four of them book-ending eight songs by one particular group; and therein lies the significance, an amazingly coincidential one at that. There's not a bad song on the disc, and I really need to spend time absorbing the others more, as it's track #8 which is getting the hammering.
A live recording, it's one of those curiosities in music that is equally good in its' studio edition. Lyrically dynamic, impeccable production which in no-way strays into over-production, the very zenith of 1980's music, and I'm here to tell you that it is likely the finest yet most under-rated songs of the decade in question by an equally remarkable group.
"So where's the link with your shelf-filling past and a friendship which blossomed from such?", I hear any reader of this post say.

My friend back then was called John, and it may have become noticeable by now that the past tense has been employed quite heavily when speaking of him. He sadly died in 2004.
The main focus of his musical fanaticism at the time was the group I speak of, 'Talk Talk'. Post-Punk, Art-Rock, Adult-Pop. Call them what you will, they were quite simply brilliant. John knew it, in my mid-late teens I knew it (still do), and my friend who gave me the disc knows it.
Now amidst the recovery I was embarking upon following my issues of a February Monday in '04, I received as surprising and upsetting a telephone call as one could wish to receive. It was from the wife of John, whom I hadn't seen for over twelve months, and she informed me that John had lost a battle with an illness which I was unaware he was fighting. That I was unaware is sigificant of situations where one loses contact. However, this mattered not to John's wife, nor to John himself apparently, as the purpose of the call was to not only inform me of John's passing and to request that I attend his funeral, but also that I act upon a wish of his when he knew his time had come.
Apparently, he had immense regret that our paths had gone all tangent-like, but valued extremely highly the friendship we had. He requested that I select a song to be played at his service, explaining to his already mourning wife that I would know which one.
I don't believe anybody could bestow a higher honour on another individual and I know I selected the correct song. It was pretty-much our personal soundtrack of the time we shared.
I find it difficult to listen to, yet simply cannot help so doing. The title says so much, Mark Hollis's voice expresses all the angst at the missed-opportunity of the years we missed together and the ultimate loss. When I can, upon my next return to England, I'll retrieve the couple of thousand pieces of vinyl which are stored in a brother's garage; amongst them this song.

I make a point now of having a very reduced friend-list. I'm not a misanthrope...far from it. I love the friends I have dearly, as brothers and sisters, and I endeavour, at every point, to illustrate the high regard in which I hold them. In a nutshell, I don't want to spread myself too thinly at the expense of individuals I believe deserve the utmost attention. Yes, this may come across as overkill to a few of them sometimes and perhaps my personal line at which acceptable levels of contact become tiresome is a little blurred, but I am not prepared to make the same mistake as I made with John. Friendship of such substance and quality is a precious commodity, and to let it pass by is..well...'Such a Shame'.