Walking into the office 10 minutes late on a Saturday morning, after a bit of banter with the girls and talking about the mishaps of the Friday night just gone, I got the urge to listen to something old skool.
I did my make-up, made myself a cup of coffee (a calm Saturday morning), I popped my butt down at my desk and put on some Bob Dylan. Nothing too strong, ‘One More Cup of coffee’, it helped wash down my morning coffee.
You see, the mood you unconsciously bounce into is phenomenal so I continued on to Tracy Chapman. ‘Baby Can I hold you Tonight’ and ‘Fast Car’, ‘Talking ‘bout Revolution,’ all from her 1988 album. What a voice. I love her style, her voice gives you hope, and it’s weird, you’re not and can’t be unhappy you just want to accept everything. All the bullshit seems easier to absorb. Must I emphasise it’s a God given gift to have a voice like that.
I got introduced to Tracy Chapman in 2005, I’d heard off her and a couple of her songs before but never really got to understand any of her music. I guess I didn’t get a chance to appreciate it. In 2005 my then housemate Miss-pothead, she loved Tracy. While I’m at it, I must add our other housemate The-Surrey-Girl introduced me to Bob Dylan, with a massive Bob Dylan poster in her room and his music pouring through the gaps in the door of her bedroom.
We stayed in a little cottage house in Uxbridge, on the outskirts of London. The house was owned by the church and it always had cold eerie feel to it. One we learnt to fill with fumes, alcohol and friends (both human friends and the TV series FRIENDS). The feeling never left the house though, we just got used to it over time. I guess once we started arguing and laughing, crying and singing, studying and cooking we warmed our souls up, never the house.
My tiny little box room was, I guess, the weirdest. A tiny room without any space to move, it was compact, tight and friendly. I actually didn’t need to move from the one and only spot where I could stand. I’d to pick my cloths, dress, and do my hair and when I wanted to sleep all need to do was collapse into the bed behind me. I have stood in exactly the same spot so many times that I had literally left footprints on the carpet when left. My mum didn’t whether to be disgusted or laugh at fact that my whole had fit in the room.
Me and the girls decided my room was previously a prayer room. It was the eeriest place in the house, there where weird sounds coming from it when no-one was in it and it had the silhouette of crucifixes that had been taken off the walls.
I eventually learnt to love the houses eerie cold and misty air produced from the all the different fumes. But it’s a place where my mind often forgets to go. So it felt lovely when Tracy and Bob took me to a different time and place this morning, to another valley, to the valley below. It filled a hole in my longing heart, it smelt of London and coffee. Bliss.