Must Have Music (Part 1)

My music collection is gone, of course: CDs, LPs, and MP3s.

One of the things about this whole process is that my life has all but literally been razed to the ground and, devastating as that is, there is also an immense amount of freedom and power in being able to rebuild from scratch, choosing what I want to have in my life.

The rebuilding of my music collection is part of that - some things I just know I have to get again, and knowing that helps me define and own my sense of identity.

So Must Have Music is a series, really just a sharing of some of the music I once owned and simply must own again.

And we'll start with Lady Marmalade by Labelle from the brilliant album Nightbirds. Definitely one to have on vinyl.

The Red Shoes

I didn't return to the house after the fire. I had no particular desire to do so, and one of my housemates was quite insistent that it wasn't a good idea considering how traumatised I was.

In the hours afterwards, my wonderful parents bombed down the motorway, driving from Wales to London. While I was at my ex-boyfriend's flat having been released from hospital, they went straight to the house to see what (if anything) could be salvaged.

My mum described how she saw, in the midst of my dark and blackened room, poking out of a corner and in pristine condition, a pair of red shoes.

I love the fact that these were one of the few items that withstood the fire, referring as they do (in my mind, at least) to The Red Shoes, one of Hans Christian Andersen's many moralistic tales depicting the terrible things that happen to women who think they have anything they want…

That my own red shoes survived is, to me, a wonderful sign that (despite Andersen's puritanical protestations) it IS alright to want what I want - a life of passion, abundance …

…and beautiful but impractical footwear…

Ring Of Fire

I wore this on the ring finger of my right hand from 2004 until the 12th April 2010, when the doctors at Carmarthen hospital decided to remove it for the sake of my badly burnt hand.

In the midst of the panic induced by seeing flames and smoke coming out of my bedroom, I went in and tried to put the fire out using blankets, burning my hand in the process.



Due to the placement of the ring, people often assumed it was the signifier of either a relationship or lesbian tendencies. It was, in fact, a symbol of my commitment to myself; a reminder to stay true and faithful to myself and my soul's purpose. So it's fitting that it should have to be sawn off. I wasn't staying true to myself at all.



I'll be needing a new one…

Burnt Out Bass

I bought this bass when I was about 15 or 16.

The number 2 on it is a reference to Pete Townshend, who went through a phase of numbering his guitars. Although this was the first bass I actually owned, for some reason I thought a number 1 would look shit so I reasoned with myself that it was the 2nd bass I had PLAYED (the 1st being my dad's) so I could get away with the apparently cooler-looking 2…

Over the years it gradually acquired more stickers and various battle scars, including several small dents under the strings from where I had played it somewhat… enthusiastically…

It was actually becoming limiting for me musically, being a fairly generic Yamaha with only the most uncontroversial range of tone in it's repertoire - so it's not a huge tragedy that I now have to replace it. But I will keep it and it will always have a special place in my heart as my first bass; the one I learnt on, the one that made me fall in love with the bass as an instrument. It's been with me at amazing gigs and utterly diabolical ones.

So, thanks for your loyal service No. 2. Sorry I never gave you a name…