This Thursday, I will be waffling about the 1996 IRA bomb for the Manchester Histories Festival. You remember '96, don't you? It's also today's randomly-chosen year for Bleep Years, my two decade trawl through the jukebox of my mind.
1996: 808 State's Lopez
From the 303 acid of Flow Coma to the storming techno of Nimbus, 808 State had long proved their status as Madchester's ravers-in-chief. 1993's warm and adventurous Gorgeous is probably one of my top ten favourite albums. Their 1996 album Don Solaris was a more ethereal affair: think Hacienda classics by stoned beach bums.
Don Solaris' track seven, Lopez, featuring the vocals of James Dean Bradfield Out Of The Manics, was by no means the best track on the album. However, it was the one I'd find myself humming down the street in a year which not only saw 808 State headline a massive party five days after the IRA bombed the heck out of Manchester, it saw the death of my father.
And so, I give you some lyrics from Lopez, which may explain why this one song summed my 1996. (Before this gets too weepy, I should also point out that my dad, who had an extensive record collection including Acker Bilk, Ella Fitzgerald, Cleo Laine and a huge classical collection, bloody hated techno and railed against the invention of the drum machine with some vigour.)
Each sun feels like the last:
Death is proclaimed at sunset
by a final light,
Which darkness fills
With every shade.
Solitude bides time.
Joy gives me my last regret.
Joy gives me my last regret.
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