Desert Island Discs #1

Author: Mark Ferguson
Published: 15th March 2016

I've been planning this idea for some time but the format of the old blog didn't really lend itself to it. Essentially it's my own interpretation of the popular desert island discs, in fact the only difference being is that I might not stop at 10, I might do a few more if the idea doesn't fizzle out after the first couple.

I'm a massive fan of DID (see what I 'did' there) and listen to it every Sunday after the archers omnibus. There's nothing better than sitting in the greenhouse with a cup of tea, pricking out seedlings (oo-er) listening to the tales of bumpkins parping on about Turnip Townsend and his Retractable Seedcaster, followed by the the mellowing tones of Kirsty Young introducing some intellectual and their pick of the pops. Everyone secretly repeats 'please don't be a classical fan, please don't be a classical fan' as she introduces them, as nobody wants to listen to 3/4 of an hour of 13th century latvian chamber pot music followed by Shostakovich's undiscovered 2nd symphony he wrote when he was 8 and locked in the basement of some gulag somewhere.

Anyway I love it and thought why not have a crack myself, so here goes.....

#1 10CC - The things we do for love

What a perfect way to start the list, anyone who doesn't like this is a helmet with no appreciation of great music. Everyone has a happy tune (not including Pharrells 'Happy' which is a given), and this is mine. Just as the soaring opening chords start, a smile appears on my face as i'm instantly transported back to the late seventies. That mentally hot summer we had, the brown flared chords my mum bought me that I ripped within 20 minutes of putting them on, all the paedo's on the telly, great times.

I quite like 10CC as all of their songs are quite complex yet totally unique. "Good Morning Judge", "Dreadlock Holiday" and "I'm not in love" are all immediately identifiable favourites for the 70's soundtracks, but "The Things We Do For Love", for me, just stands out. I automatically picture me and my mates running around the street in cheap trainers playing football, getting mum to move the car if Mole was in goal as he was crap, and the number plate fell off everytime you hit it with ball, it was a very happy time (apart from the paedos) and I love reminiscing everytime I hear it.

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