Flowers

After The Noise

Everything Is Equal

Wednesday 08 April 2026

Pete Shelley – Homosapien (1981)

Sun out in Manchester. Proper sun as well, not that half-hearted version we usually get. Almost, dare I say it… warm.

Within seconds of leaving the house, the roads are already doing their thing. Someone parked like they’ve abandoned all logic. Another trying to edge out. Awkward right turns everywhere. I refuse to let anyone through. Petty, yes. Deserved, also yes.

All of this soundtracked by Homosapien. Which immediately makes it better.

There’s something about this track. Slightly odd, slightly detached, but completely right. It just fits the moment. Bright, sharp, playful. Perfect for a drive like this.

Then, of course, I end up behind a Range Rover. My natural enemy. Looming. Pointless. Expensive irritation on wheels.

Anyway.

Back to the music. Pete Shelley’s solo stuff never really gets the credit it should. I know, I say that about everything. But still. There’s a looseness to it, a willingness to be a bit different.

And on a day like this, it lands exactly where it should.
Sun out. Windows down. Mild irritation at humanity ticking along in the background.

All of it working together.

Sweet Female Attitude – Flowers (2000)

Why do the roads stop behaving the moment the sun shows up?

Within seconds, it’s chaos again. Someone half-committed to pulling out, just sitting there like they’re waiting for divine intervention. Everyone else weaving around them. Decision-making apparently optional.

Meanwhile, Flowers is on. Proper tune. The kind that settles everything, even when everything around you is doing its best to wind you up.

I remember this being everywhere. One of those songs that just arrives and sticks. Hearing it now, it’s obvious why. Simple, clean, that beat carrying it along. The vocal doing the rest.

Even with the running commentary in my head getting less charitable by the minute.

Then a small miracle. Someone indicates. A rare, almost mythical act. You feel like applauding. Possibly handing out fruit.

Back to normal quickly enough. Creeping at lights like it’ll make them change faster. Pedestrians deciding their fate at the kerb.

Through all of it, this just glides. Light, warm, effortless.

Still going as well. Which is impressive when one song has done most of the heavy lifting for years. But fair play. It’s a very good one.

Sometimes that’s enough.
A good beat. A clean vocal.
And just enough patience not to ram the car in front.

Black Uhuru – Let Us Dub (1986)

This took me straight back.

Had it on vinyl once. Different era. Let’s leave it at that.

Not heard it in years, and then there it is again. That slow, heavy pull. Dub doing exactly what it’s meant to. Everything stretched out, echo drifting, bassline just sitting there like it owns everything.

Meanwhile, Manchester carries on being Manchester.

The pub I pass every day, already full. Lunchtime pints lined up. Slightly unfair when you’re heading in the opposite direction.

Then roadworks. Or the idea of them. Sign says lane closed. Lane very much open. So everyone panics anyway. Swapping lanes, creating chaos out of nothing. Some planner somewhere signed that off with confidence.

The music floats above it.

That’s what dub does. It absorbs the noise instead of fighting it. Slows everything down, even when your patience is trying to leave the building.

People crossing wherever they feel like. Others hesitating like they’ve forgotten how roads work. You watch, you mutter, you carry on.

Then a small moment. Letting an old Royal Mail van out. A wave back. Brief civilisation.

The track just rolls on. Thick, warm, steady. Makes you realise you should’ve owned more of their albums. Too late now, obviously.

By the time I pull in at work, everything’s settled again.
Head clear enough.
Mission complete.

END OF LISTENING LOG