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Himself has a little bit of a man-crush on Jared Leto. Some of you will remember him from My So-Called Life and American Psycho. In this house it’s all about his second incarnation as frontman of 30 Seconds to Mars. They’re not a bad band, as bands go (I for one particularly like their This is War album), but what is astounding about them is their following. The die-hard fans call themselves The Echelon, go out of their way to promote gigs and albums and other appearances, tattoo themselves in the strange Illuminati-type symbols that Jared tattoos on his arms and know all the call and response/hand symbols to the songs. If you ever get a chance to see 30 Second to Mars live on MTV or something like that you’ll see what I mean.

Himself doesn’t really get it. He loves the man and the music, he just doesn’t get the strange cult-like following.

But I do.

You see it reminds me of New Model Army gigs in the late 80s/early 90s. We, the die-hard fans, called ourselves The Family. We travelled far and wide to see them play. We knew all the words to all the songs, as well as the actions (that is less lame than it sounds…. honestly!). We tattooed ourselves with celtic knots and always bought the t-shirt. And if one of us fell down in the mosh-pit someone would always pick us up again.

(the moshpit c. 2006 – a bit balder, a bit fatter but still going strong!!)

It’s about a need to belong. It’s about feeling like a lost lonely little freak, about nobody at your school understanding you and then, suddenly discovering this band that speak to you. Discovering that, amongst the other fans, you’ve found people who finally get you. You’ve found somewhere you can relax and be yourself. Who you really, truly are. No holds barred.

This need to be part of a tribe is primal. Those feelings start when you hear the record. But when you see the band live, pressed against the heat and vitality of other living souls who feel the same way as you it goes beyond that. Beyond time, to that place where we are all a spark of something else. Something special.

Why am I telling you this?

Because it happens in yoga too.

I know for a fact there are people reading this that know what I mean. That feeling of finally having found home when you walk into a yoga class. That feeling of finally belonging.

In our yoga class we know the dance, we know all the words, we know the call-and-response chants and the secret hand gestures (mudras). And we feel that primal belonging as we practice alongside others, that spark of life that lies within us all.

Those of you who know Linda will know that she refers to her husband’s passion for music as “his yoga”. And we all have that. It might not be a yoga class. But everyone has that place where they belong, where they’ve finally found what they were looking for. And if you haven’t, I promise you, it’s just around the corner if you keep your eyes, your mind and your heart wide open.

“Some people ask us if this is a cult; I say this:
It’s something special. It’s not for everyone – it’s only for those who understand.”
–Jared Leto

I still feel the call to New Model Army gigs at least once a year. I still call myself Family as proudly now as I did when I was 14. I can’t help it, the pull is strong, the desire to belong.

Almost as strong as the call to yoga.

Music saved my life.

It’s a wild and sweeping statement, it’s a statement I overuse. But to me it’s true.  Discovering at a very early age how powerful  music is on our emotions, our moods, our soul is life changing.  The discovery of the music I love, for me, meant the discovery of a whole culture that stopped me feeling alone.  It saved me from what could have been a very troubled adolescence.

So for your my lovely readers, five of the greatest tunes in my life – plus an extra three.  Because you see at the end I’ve made you a mix tape, and the tape needed 8 tracks, not 5 – so bonus for you lot.

Songs that I’ve cried to, laughed with, been cheered by, loved and longed with.  I hope you enjoy it!

1. Green and Grey – New Model Army (1989)

I discovered New Model Army at the tender age of 14 – a few months before “Thunder and Consolation“, the album from which this track comes, was released.  This discovery led to a lifelong obsession – I’ve seen NMA live at least once a year since, I’ve met a whole heap of wonderful co-obsessives, I’ve grown old with them and the band – and this to me is their greatest moment (although it’s really really difficult to choose from so many great moments), the theme song to significant turning points in my own life.

2. 3 Imaginary Boys – The Cure (1979)

Long before The Cure became a sweet and kitschy little pop band (so y’know, before “Love Cats“), they were one of the best 3-piece, post-punk bands in Europe.  I had the “3 Imaginary Boys” album on cassette and remember listening to it on repeat on my Walkman all the way to Wales on a Geography field trip when I was 15.  Not the happiest album in the world, not the happiest period of my life to be honest, but this record went a long way to making a lost little freak who wore army boots too big for her and too much eyeliner, that she wasn’t as lost and alone as she figured.  This is the best track on the album.  By far.

3.  Autumn – Antonio Vivaldi (1723)

I’ve probably listened to more classical music this last year than I have in the whole of the rest of my life.  I play classical in the massage clinic, mostly because I cannot stand all that plinky-plonky whale noise shit!  My affection for Mozart, Bach and Vivaldi is growing on an almost daily basis.  Who’d ever have thought it!  Vivaldi’s “Autumn“, from “The Four Seasons“, holds a very special place in my heart because it was the first concert piece I ever played with the school orchestra.  I played flute.  I was pretty good as I made it into the First Orchestra which, by the way our music teacher behaved, you’d think was second only to the Philharmonic.  We used to rehearse late into the night, even though some of us were only 12.  And if we dared to yawn, his wrath would come down upon us like Zeus.  Seriously.  Taught me some pretty amazing stuff about discipline though.

4.  Under the Bridge – Red Hot Chili Peppers (1992)

I think it’s true to say that this is the track that made the Chili’s, certainly in the UK.  I think it is also true to say that a part of that success came from the video.  Who after all could not be amazed at a topless, tattooed and stunningly beautiful lead singer walking through LA?  Exactly, I know, who couldn’t look at those beautiful views of LA backstreets…. Hmmmm?

A semi-clad Anthony Kiedis aside, the first time I heard this song it took my breath away. Everything about it is amazing from the whispered first verse to the almost operatic overture at the end – from the uplifting feeling it leaves behind to the aftertaste of the very dark side of addiction.  And despite some terribly awful cover versions (All Saints I’m looking at you) it is one of those rare songs that has stood the test of time.

5. Everlong – Foo Fighters (1997)

Really not a lot needs to be said about this does it?  It’s Dave.  It’s probably the greatest song Dave ever wrote – as those songs that are written in five minutes and tagged onto the end of a recording session are wont to be.  I’ve had a lot of ups and downs to this song, but more importantly it’s the song Himself and I fell in love to.

Plus 3

(1) Lithium – Nirvana (1992)

The song where it all began – it was after seeing the video for this on MTV the summer after my A Levels that the lifetime love affair with Mr Grohl began.  He’s topless in it.  You’ll be noticing a theme.

(2) Peace is Free – Black Stone Cherry (2009)

Another thing you’ll notice is that apparently I don’t think much of post-1997 music and to an extent it’s true.  I think it wasn’t just about the music but the old ethos that I loved started to disappear in the late 90s.  Or maybe I just started to get old.  Either way in 2009 a little God-fearing Kentucky band made a record called “Folklore + Superstition” which was the first album not by a band I already loved that made me sit up and take notice in a good few years.  A great band, a great song and I’m finally going to see them live in November.

(3) Penny Lane – The Beatles

This is the first song I ever remember hearing, sitting in our old front room with my dad.  I must have been about 3.  I liked the bit about the fire engine.  The song is immortalised forever by being tattoed across my back.

And finally…here’s the mixtape…

Saturday morning .  My first weekend off since Christmas.  My last until we go to Australia in April.

Typically we woke to wind and rain and bad moods.  Feeling sluggish and not up to much, wanting to cancel plans and curl up.  Hibernate from the world.

Then suddenly as if by magic Zane Lowe announced, via the magical dark art that is Twitter, that the Foos were playing Dingwalls (tiny capacity London club) in a matter of hours.  Tickets sold out in a matter of minutes.

And we got two.

I don’t know how.  Himself ordered them on autopilot.  And then suddenly reality struck, we had to eat, get to the station, get to London, get to Camden Lock and we had 2.5 hours to do it.

For anything else I’d have given it up as a bad job, returned to Rebecca and hibernation.  For Dave Grohl I’ll drop pretty much anything.

Including the bad mood.

Everything fell into place, from the apparent ease of getting the tickets, to all the trains and buses being in perfect alignment (when does that ever happen?).  From the superfast easy queuing system to the near perfect proximity to the man himself.  Even the journey home wasn’t too much of a nightmare.

To see a band that you’ve loved for years, a band that now sell out stadiums on a regular basis, in a 500 capacity club is an indescribable feeling.  They played the new record, beginning to end and threw in some old favourites as well.  I had to leave before the end – trains to the fens are few and far between – and missed Everlong and Aurora, but I’ve heard Everlong and Aurora a million times before.  To see the new record, to see Grohl so proud of it, to see that smile that lights up the room for me was enough. To see him play with Pat Smear again brought back memories of when it all began, of 1995, of being lucky enough to see Nirvana that once.

It’s trivial I know, my schoolgirl crush, in comparison to the world at large.  But the joy it brings me is uncomparible.

Next weekend Himself and I celebrate 5 years of togetherness.  I’m on a training weekend and we hadn’t really planned anything special.  The Foos brought us together and it seems serendipitous that we got this weekend.