After The Noise
Everything Is Equal
Thursday 26 March 2026
Sinéad O’Connor – I Am Stretched on Your Grave (1990)
Thank the lord upstairs, the sun returned today.
After yesterday’s horror walk, I got a timely reminder of how pleasant and fulfilling my morning hound walk usually is.
And dear old Sinéad comes on. A troubled soul. Gone too young.
I was more of a dabbler than a full-on fan, but I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got is one of my favourite albums.
I wore that cassette out. Properly wore it out.
Still sounds vibrant and fresh today. Those piercing beats fused with traditional Irish folklore.
Lovely hearing one of my favourites from it.
Music does that thing. Takes you back. Drops you into another time, another place. Reminds you of people who aren’t around anymore.
The one song of hers everyone knows wasn’t even hers.
Always felt that was a bit tragic.
John Carpenter – Laurie’s Theme (1979)
Straight into the dread zone.
Halloween. Still one of the greatest horror films ever made. I watch it most years. Sometimes every other. The original and the second. That’s enough.
This music works perfectly without the visuals. That’s the genius of it.
Sparse. Relentless. Unsettling.
You don’t need Michael Myers on screen. Your brain fills in the gaps.
Groundbreaking in 1979. Still terrifying now.
Carpenter nailed it.
This doesn’t go near the “Terrifying Playlist”.
It is the terrifying playlist.
Although, a sunny Thursday morning in Manchester doesn’t quite match listening to this on a deserted country road in the middle of the night.
Cliff Richard – A Spoonful of Sugar (1964)
Cliff. A national treasure.
And an unspoken private life.
I don’t mind him. I know people love to hate him. I’ve had long debates about Cliff over the years, but if you dip in honestly, there’s good stuff there.
Yes, he looks a bit daft still performing in his mid-80s, but fair play. Still going.
This is big-band, jolly, slightly chaotic.
That unmistakable voice, arrangements everywhere, vocals flying about like they’ve escaped containment.
A worthy but far from essential cover of the Julie Andrews classic from Mary Poppins.
Had to do some proper digging to find this.
From the compilation Rare EP Tracks 1964–1991, despite never actually being on an EP. Recorded in 1964, then left on a shelf until it finally surfaced decades later.
Exactly the sort of thing I enjoy far too much.
The digging is half the fun.
And it works here. Everything sits together.
Cliff next to Carpenter.
That’s the point.
And from one Richard to another.
Richard H. Kirk – Lagoon West (1993)
Twelve minutes of electronic drift from the late Richard H. Kirk.
Takes me straight back to my bedroom in Ullapool. Cassette experiments. Sound experiments. Ideas scribbled down that never quite became anything, but still mattered.
I’ve still got them. Neatly archived, of course.
Might come in useful one day.
If I had my time again, I’d probably be an archivist. Or a researcher. Same instinct really.
Digging. Sorting. Finding order in things.
I do it at work. I do it with my own stuff. Keeps me sane after years of creative wilderness.
Despite being a huge fan of Cabaret Voltaire, this was the only solo album of his I bought.
But it stuck.
Deep enough that it bled into things I tried to make myself.
I was genuinely gutted when he died.
Proper original.
This is beautiful. Genuinely beautiful.
Still feels ahead of its time.
Édith Piaf, Charles Dumont – Les Amants (1961)
Head fog has cleared.
Eating well. Feeling good. Creating again.
And this comes on.
Different era. Different world.
Smoky French cafés. Everyone in hats. Nobody rushing anywhere.
This duet is a joy.
I always find it fascinating how easily these songs sit alongside everything else. No effort. No friction.
Charles Dumont lived until November 2024. Ninety-five.
Édith Piaf was gone at 47. 1963.
Liver cancer.
A brutal end.
The day settles.
The music lingers.
END OF LISTENING LOG
The Listening Log 