Shiny & New Turns 2: #1 "Get Together" - Madonna

“Do you believe that we can change the future? / Do you believe I can make you feel better?”

In 2005, Madonna was past it. In the general view of the public, the glory days of her career were long behind her and she had simply become too serious for her own good. How could the same woman who would make your heart flutter as she sang "Only when I'm dancing can I feel this free" record the angry, dark "American Life", or the minimalistic, barely penetrable "X-Static Process" in 2003? Of course, the eponymous album was critically acclaimed despite being the lowest selling LP of her career (it still made number one) yet she wasn't the same Madonna. And then she decided to try on a purple leotard. Confessions on a Dance Floor all but erased the memory of the experiments with French philosophical electro of two years before, and was directly inspired by the thumping bass lines, infectious samples and euphoric vocals of her early career. "Hung Up", over twenty years into the woman's career, became the biggest selling single in her recording history, and Confessions went to number one in twenty two countries.

I wasn't even a Madonna fan in 2005. I knew of her, as any listener of music does. I'd received Ray of Light as a present when I was eight years old, listened to it a couple of times and put it at the back of my collection. I'd bought the "Die Another Day" single in 2002 on account of it being the finest James Bond theme, no discussion, but it wasn't until I was sixteen or seventeen when I had my "Eureka!" moment and realised just how enormous her back catalogue of fantastic, challenging, exciting, moving, beautiful, clever music was. I’m not ashamed to admit that in the past three years, Madonna has been the single most important influence on my music tastes. I’ve discovered countless new artists, many quite unlike Madonna, simply through associations. One of the most recent examples would be Meshell Ndegeocello, an African-American lesbian singer-songwriter who happened to feature on a Bedtime Stories track in 1994 – I now have her entire back catalogue and count her amongst my favourite women in music. So you get it right? In my iTunes solar system, Madonna is the Sun. But Bjork is Jupiter, duh.


“Get Together” was the very first song I purchased from iTunes, the very first Madonna song I went out of my way to find, and the very first Madonna song I listened to on loop. Over and over again. Still today, nothing can put me in a mood quite like “Get Together” – it is essentially three minutes of melancholy euphoria, that dichotomic staple of very good pop music, that very few artists manage to master. In a bold nod to her very first album, the bass line is lifted directly from 1982’s “Holiday”, which possibly explains the rush of joy experienced through listening. Ask most Madonna fans what the happiest song she has is, and they will probably answer “Holiday”. The synths are overwhelming and enveloping – it is a breath taking experience I can only liken to the sensation of walking to the edge of a skyscraper and placing your hands on the ledge, or standing at the front of a boat and seeing a horizon of sea and nothing beyond it. The listening experience is infinite and potent.

That endless optimism is a feeling I have only begun to experience in the past couple of years, since beginning my very first long-term relationship. My affection, my adoration, my heated, impossible to quench yearning (you can go get the sick bucket) knows no bounds. It feels like it can go on forever, with no end in sight. There is no wall, there is no limit, there is no frontier. I’ve never known it before. It is a feeling I feel lucky to have, and is what keeps me on my toes. When I watch Madonna perform “Get Together” on the Confessions Tour and burst into a euphoric dance floor spin in the emotional climax of the song, I feel a rush of pure, uncontrollable, immeasurable love for the other person I proudly write this blog with.

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So here ends the usage of first person pronouns. Our twenty songs are up, and like we said at the start of this list; they are twenty songs which hold, to use a cliché which has been in use since the dawn of Dolly Parton, a special place in our hearts. They may or may not be the finest work by that artist, and they may or may not be our favourite song by that artist, but they are the most special piece by that artist who is/are special to the two of us. We have enjoyed writing this blog for the past twenty four months more than we ever thought we would, and we want to do it for a good while longer. Thank you for reading.

P.S. Thank you to Richard Croft for giving us the inspiration of charting a series of songs which hold significance to us. If you haven’t already, his blog, tracking a whopping one thousand and one songs through his listening life, is a must-read. Start at the end and make your way through!

Shiny & New Turns 2: #2 "Unison" - Björk

"Born stubborn, me / will always be / before you count 123 / I will have grown my own private branch / of this tree"

For all Björk's avant-garde sensibilities and outré tastes, she's often at her best when her sonic innovation meets her love of pop. "Unison" is about as pure and expansive, and epic as a pop song gets. Perfect not just in conception, but in execution as well. The song starts a capella, before uneven but rhythmic soft bass pads form the basis for a structure that is slowly, exquisitely built up from the ground. A shining sound like reversed glass harmonica joins, then jangling bells, a sinuous synth, harp, beats like the strike of a match in snow, haunting choir pedals, and then strings - strings so icy, warm, iridescent, that they cut through everything... flesh, bone, straight to heart. And all the time Björk's (perhaps, for once) restrained vocals.

Structurally the song is very pop: verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, chorus, chorus, freakout. And it's melodic. So melodic. I defy you not to be romanced and won over by that shimmering refrain ("Let's unite tonight, we shouldn't fight, embrace you tight"). It's so simple, such an ordinary and overused sentiment but expressed so frankly and with so few unnecessary frills. I am in love with Björk, musically, lyrically, conceptually, and I think her histrionics and orchestral excesses are often impeccable and totally wonderful, but here they would be pointless, and B knows that, so she reigns it in. Love is a word I cringe away from, even when I feel it most, because it is the ultimate cliché. But nothing, nothing, beats the feeling of dancing, waltzing slowly in a Mallorcan flat, standing on my boyfriend's feet, as he sings this in my ear. Best moment ever. Best song ever.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #3 "Pretty Good Year" - Tori Amos

"Your best friend agreed / Still / Pretty good year"

Me and Tori Amos. We have an unstable relationship. She’s a moaning, melodramatic, whiney, irritating banshee... but I love her. I don’t want to. She doesn’t deserve my love, but I can’t help it. You know, I’d much rather just be a die-hard Dannii Minogue but beggars can’t be choosers. I was forced (yes dear readers, forced against my very own will) to listen to Tori and immediately took a disliking to the smug cow, but her music was undeniably gorgeous. Fulfilling, breathtaking, transporting music. My boyfriend gave me her most accessible work, as you do, which happened to be the album Under the Pink. Begrudgingly, I gave it a listen. I was immediately seduced by “Cornflake Girl”, as many have been, yet it was “Pretty Good Year” which caught me by surprise.

I remember listening late at night in bed on my iPod – many a good listen has happened in those environs – and being completely enraptured by the unassuming, meek piano melody and her (a rare occurrence) crystal clear lyrics. As the piano evolves into a more playful role, the layered vocals in the “Amerrrrikah!” outburst and undercurrent strings serve to keep you locked unlawful Tori trance. And then all of a sudden – she ruins it. Bringing back the wailing and screaming three quarters of the way through, upon the first listen I was so angry. Here I was, actually enjoying a Tori Amos song for once and the cow has to go and ruin a beautifully intimate and gorgeous song with a brash, crude and annoying interlude. But you know, that’s the whole point of repeat listens.

She didn’t ruin the song. Of course she didn’t. It makes the song even better – it fucks it up a bit, catches you off guard. And it’s artists like Tori Amos who demand repeat plays from the listener. You cannot understand a composition of hers in one, two, maybe even ten listens – she makes you go round the houses. But two years later, I’ve come to terms with it. It’s a hell of a lot more of a satisfying experience than the throw away pop which clogs up much of my iTunes (everything ha sa time and a place) and the ability to change opinions on music, or any form of art for that matter, whether it’s from good to bad and back to good or whatever, should be cherished.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #4 "First Train Home" - Imogen Heap

"The urge to feel your face / In blood, rushing to paint my handprint"

Of all the many modes of public transport (bus, tram, airplane, coach, rocket, shuttle, golfcart) the medium I have perhaps utilised most often in my lifetime is: the train. This is because I'm a middle class university student who in his first year of study went home to get his washing done every month (CLICHÉ ALERT) but also because I've been in a long-term and, more pertinently, long-distance relationship for the past two years (don't believe the myth, they do work). Travelling by train is wonderful, perhaps not in every country (although I've experienced spectacular ones in New Zealand and Japan) but especially in England. All that lush countryside, an occasional spattering of rain. You can read without getting motion sickness. You can eavesdrop, and even nowadays plug in your laptop if you're that addicted to technology.

And no, this is not covert train product placement: I could write an essay on how dreadfully overpriced tickets are, how awful and rude and jobsworthy some of the staff can be and how slow and late they often seem to be. But there is something about taking them - that sense of possibility those glimpses you get into other people's lives (both fellow passengers and whatever civilization you might pass on your journey), and that excitement about what lies at the other end. Imogen Heap, an unfairly skilled songwriter and criminally underrated sonic innovator released "First Train Home" in 2009 and it was met mostly with disappointment. After her almost breakthrough on previous album, Speak For Yourself, punters (perhaps understandably) craved something akin to "Hide & Seek" - a masterpiece of a song, if now, irritatingly overexposed - which made her a relative star when it was used in the finale for that show about those bored teenagers in California exploring, as some old article in the Guardian Guide once said, every nuance of the word 'hey'.

But to me "First Train Home" wasn't a disappointment. It eschews high-concept production gimmicks for a sonic landscape that sounds unique but familiar (like train carriages, platforms and stations... do you see where I'm going with this?) and a sense of overarching narrative that is also satisfyingly circular (it feels like it returns from whence it came(th)). The song may not be about a young gay idiote returning, melancholy but ecstatic from a weekend with his boyfriend, but as is often the case with music I love, the lyrics and specific meanings melted away as I put this on repeat, and the feel of the whole thing enveloped me.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #5 "Number 1" - Goldfrapp

“You’re my favourite moment / You’re my Saturday”

Ah, Goldfrapp. I am yet to completely penetrate their back catalogue to the point where I feel I am passionate about their music. I eagerly download their new music, I listen to their old music fairly regularly but they have never really clicked with me to the point where I would list them as one of my favourite acts. Saying that, their last album Head First is possibly my second personal favourite, but more importantly, I can say with complete certainty that "Number 1" is one of my favourite songs. Ever. See what I mean? We have a dysfunctional relationship do me and Will & Alison.

This song transports me back to the summer of 2008 when after spending a weekend – sometimes even a day – in the company of the first person to make me feel intoxicated and heady just by being with them, I would make the journey back from Oxford to Coventry. The railway was having engineering works or something between Leamington Spa and Coventry, so I would take a replacement coach from Leamington home. This happened for a few weeks, and each time I spent that dull coach journey listening to whatever new music my boyfriend had given me. “Number 1” was the very first song by Goldfrapp I listened to on my iPod that I hadn’t heard before (I knew stuff like “Strict Machine” and “Ooh La La”), and all I remember is listening in this awe-struck daze, under a pink and yellow early evening sky in a stuffy coach, exhausted and drunk on love.

I haven’t quite worked out the canine references in the song (or the video) but I think it’s easy to understand that the most important point the song makes is the person Alison drawls on about is the most important person in her world, the one person her entire universe revolves around, the one person she thinks about night and day, the one person she isn’t really herself with out. I can relate to that.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #6 "Show Me Love (2008 Version)" - Robyn

"Never thought I would find a love so sweet / Never thought I would find someone like you"

We made it clear at the start of this project that these songs weren't their respective artist's best work, but work that was most meaningful to us. So of course, "Show Me Love", in any of its versions isn't necessarily our favourite Robyn song, nor do we deem it to be her best, but it means a hell of a lot. We always try to write this blog humorously ("WELL YOU FAILED" - the world) but also fairly anonymously and without letting our tumultuous feelings get too caught up in the proceedings. Well all that can go to hell right now.

"Show Me Love (2008 Version)" is so meaningful to me because just over 2 years ago, on the night this video was taken, I started talking to 'Lindy' (code name, not government name, OBV) and a month later was 'head-over-heels' in love (as I believe they say in the movies and in the trash fiction for the girlie girls). In an even bigger twist, he sent me this song (so obviously it reminds me of him) AND he took this video (above)! Yes that's his camerawork and I believe if you listen carefully you can hear him singing along in his melodious tones. We later decided to start a blog, despite it being the kind of thing EVERY music fan does at some point or another, and almost 2 years later it's more successful than ever and a glowing achievement we can both be proud of. I love Robyn, she captures almost every feeling I ever had between the ages of 13 and 17 and beyond, and in this song she captures the way it felt to be brave enough to fall in love.

If you're allergic to sop or slush you can stop covering your eyes now.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #7 "Early Winter" - Gwen Stefani

“My heart had a crash when we spoke / I can’t fix what you broke"

I really do love Gwen Stefani and always have done. Probably always will. There’s something about her that has always set her apart from her contemporaries and will continue to do so; No Doubt has always been one of my favourite bands as well. I rushed out and eagerly purchased Love. Angel. Music. Baby and played the disc from start to finish more times than I care to remember, yet for some unexplainable reason when The Sweet Escape was released I couldn’t have been more indifferent. It sat in my iTunes for over a year, untouched. I can remember the song itself “The Sweet Escape” being particularly grating when played on loop on various radio stations – Akon’s insipid woohooing is the stuff of nightmares. And all of a sudden, one night I decided to listen to the album whilst wearing bitchin’ monster headphones. And I fell in love.

The album felt like it straddled the perfect line between paying tribute to the album which preceded it and not straying too far from the sound and styling while definitely keeping an element of experimentation. “Fluorescent”, “Breakin’ Up”, “Now That You Got It”, “4 in the Morning” – “U Started It” is probably my second favourite Gwen song ever, and certainly my favourite Pharrell production – yet while it isn’t my most preferred song on the album, “Early Winter” refused to be shaken from my consciousness for days after. The heartbreaking lyrics, written by the chief Keane songwriter (!), provided a perfect match and contrast to Gwen’s lilting, charmed voice which managed to be yearning yet entirely non chalant at the same time. It’s one of the few songs which speaks to me about a life experience which I believe I am yet to undertake myself but which I find myself entirely relating to. The synth assault simmering underneath the traditional percussion completes the retro-futuristic signature sound Gwen has polished up so well.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #8 "Fire Bomb" - Rihanna

"Watching it burning, it's beautiful and it's blue / and it's pitiful when it's through, it's the other half of me"

Human beings love to be pleasantly surprised, it gives them a story to tell or something to say. This is why people love the story of two Italian-American broads from the '80s called Cyndi & Madonna. At the time, if all sources are to be believed (we weren't alive yet) these two formidable talents 'battled it out' for chart supremacy and superstardom. Of course they didn't literally do so, but the patriarchal media loves to pit women against eachother and so they became 'rivals'. People loved to predict their chances of future success, and APPARENTLY, it was a commonly held belief that Madonna would fade into semi-obscurity and Cyndi would become a lasting star. What actually happened was the complete opposite. This is why people love, and are still interested in Rihanna, four albums on.

The 'Bajan beauty' (what is this? Reveal magazine?) started her career with throwaway dancehall-flavoured chartpop, and has steadily become darker and more adventurous (and wildly successful in the process) to the point where she's now considered a mostly-credible pop behemoth and one of the biggest and most bankable stars on the planet. When her critically acclaimed dubstep-inspired apocalypse pop ('apopalypse'? HAVE I JUST COINED A TERM?) album, Rated R, was released last year, a lot of the criticism/praise focussed on the horrific experience Rihanna had had the misfortune to endure prior to the album's release, and certainly her work seems to be tinged with that, but what is brilliant about the album, and "Fire Bomb" (a certified fan favourite) is that, as with all the best pop, it transcends Ms. Fenty's personal life. The heartstoppingly evocative lyrics, the steely, outcry of a chorus, those divisive, distinctive vocals, the pure melodrama - the first time I heard it I knew I would have it on loop. It's a brilliant song released by a woman who trumped expectations to become a defining star of her generation.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #9 "Unfinished Sympathy" - Massive Attack

"Like a soul without a mind / In a body without a heart / I'm missing every part"

I’ve briefly mentioned previously the separation of my listening tastes into ‘eras’. There was the typical pre-pubescent phase where bubblegum/Top 40 pop music were pretty much my limits, then there was my not-really-caring-about-music phase; then there was my “Wow, brilliant music exists!” phase and finally there was the “Get rid of the shit you’re listening to because you want to fit in and just listen to what you love” era which began a few years ago and in which I’m still blissfully wallowing like a hippo in mud in. “Unfinished Sympathy” by Massive Attack is one song which I will forever remember with potent clarity as an official Turning Point™. I was fourteen years old, waiting for my mother to finish getting ready, and the very video above this writing began to show on MTV2. Little did I know what I was about to hear and see would directly change how I thought about music entirely. I must have listened to this song over a hundred times, yet – something I don’t believe I can say for any other song – the journey I am taken on with every new listen is no different from the very first time I was taken on it.

The intimidating bass grabs my throat and holds it in a suffocating grip for the following four minutes. In its grasp I’m subjected to the most sorrowful lyrics given life by the stunning Shara Nelson, pushed by achingly handsome strings arranged by Craig Armstrong, a consuming, fast-moving beat and a heart-wrenching faded refrain. Of all the songs I will write about in this list, “Unfinished Sympathy” is possibly the only one to bring me to the brink of moving my heart and mood, to take my light to dark and back to light again, to steal me to a Los Angeles summer’s evening in 1991. As the strings grow shriller, tenser, stronger, the song reaches its climax and the listener is dropped by Massive Attack’s fist and left with an empty, wrenching feeling. As if you’ve been left to fend for yourself. Such is the whirlwind of incomparable and incredible emotions the listening experience of “Unfinished Sympathy” continues to be many, many listens later.

In February 2007, I attended my very first ‘gig’. It was Massive Attack, and the very last song was “Unfinished Sympathy”.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #10 "Ghosts" - Siobhan Donaghy

"Full mug my friends certainly familiar / Ah, hear that glitch say search the orbs"

The story of Siobhan Donaghy is perhaps heartbreakingly sad: possessed of an extraordinary songwriting talent and beautiful, mournful voice, she has released two excellent alt-pop albums, but unlike similar female artists who have made a minor stamp on the mainstream and garnered an enormous, dedicated fanbase, she failed to break through. It is unlikely she will ever make another album. Nevertheless, we (and I) will always have her first two works: the cool, offbeat, but unutterably blue Revolution In Me and her 2007 follow up, the soaring, epic, heart-swelling, eery Ghosts.

It was actually Ghosts I heard first (it is still my favourite) and it's an album packed full of songs that are meaningful to me. The producer of the album had previously worked with (more middle-of-the-road acts) U2, Keane, and Dido but you wouldn't guess. Ghosts is full of unusual witchy touches: spooky swelling bells, looming out of the dark, juddering, flickering falling star-like synth noises. On the album's last track, the eponymous "Ghosts", Donaghy's vocals are treated so as to sound like they've been looped backwards (there is actually a secret message hidden backwards in the middle of the song). The tune is about as pop as you'll get, all syncopated, soaring melody and changing chords underneath, that make it exhilarating despite being repeated for most of the song. Those aforementioned bells swamp the whole thing in mystery. When I first heard it I was almost hypnotised, it has a magic about it. It's just a shame we probably won't get to hear more of Siobhan and her extraordinary voice.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #11 "Miss You Much" - Janet Jackson

"Shot like an arrow going through my heart / That's the pain I feel / I feel whenever we're apart"

My romance with Janet Jackson has not been as long as I would have hoped. After downloading the seminal "Rhythm Nation" a few years ago on recommendation from a friend, she remained unlistened to for a while until on whim I decided to download the album on which it appeared and the preceding Control. I soon found myself filled with frustration that I hadn't taken the plunge sooner. In the UK, Janet seems to be constantly, very unfairly, shoved in the shadow of her impossible to ignore brother, yet she really does have a wealth of material to her name which undeniably marks her as one of the most talented individuals of the eighties and nineties.

I have several Janet favourites, many of them coming from the very first two albums I downloaded. However for some reason "Miss You Much" stands as the best example of why Janet - Ms. Jackson if yo nasty - has produced some of the most melodic, danceable pop music in recent years. After the throbbing drum machine paves the way for the mesmerising synth which follows, the frustration-filled lyrics take over the spotlight and the voicing of her resentment at how much she longs for her lover is more than audible. Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, Janet's almost career-long production partners, used industrial, harsh sounds in the background of this otherwise synth-heavy track and not once are you fooled into believing this is a simple love song.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #12 "You Know Me Better" - Róisín Murphy

"I think we waited long enough, baby / You know me only too well"

Róisín Murphy released her second solo studio album, Overpowered, in 2007, and what would now get lost in a sea of popsynthdance, at the time felt so refreshing and forward thinking. In fact on repeated listening, it still shows more scope, imagination and sense of fun than almost anything else being released today. But that's the point. At time when making predominantly synth-based music was akin to forming a Steps tribute band in terms of cool, Róisín (and Robyn) had the gall to not only not give a shit, but also long before the dreaded GaGa made her stamp on the world, without even trying, they were the true clairvoyants who ushered in a new era of pop.

The song starts with a stuttering chopped up cymbal powering into a song both melodic and sinuous, euphoric and underpinned by something sad and downbeat. When I first heard it, it made me want to strut and for a while it soundtracked my walks everywhere. I remember once asking my dad to drop me off an hour's walk away from home so I could listen to its parent album in its entirety and strut nonstop. Weird, but total bliss. It tells the age old story of friends who are considering taking the dive into something romantic, cuz they just know eachother that well. But it's not obvious or tacky and manages to steer clear of cliché entirely. It demonstrates perfectly why Róisín Murphy will be sorely missed as she takes her sabbatical from music. "You Know Me Better", with its bassline so incredible it could make the dead dance is a perfect example of why Róisín is so clever: it's spooky, humorous, danceable. It's perfect synthpop.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #13 "I'm On Fire" - Bat for Lashes

"Sometimes it's like someone took a knife / Baby edgy and dull / And cut a six inch valley through / The middle of my soul"

Not until around six months after my very first listen of this song did I learn “I’m On Fire” is not at all a Bat for Lashes song – it’s a Bruce Springsteen cover. Bruce Springsteen!? Moral is don’t underestimate the song writing skills of anyone, even if they’re an ageing dad rock idol. No matter, Natasha Khan’s re-interpretation of the song as an entrancing lament is incredibly superior to the original and gives a far more poignant and moving spin on Springsteen’s lyrics. Khan is an exceptional talent, and we have shared a whirlwind love affair with her since 2006’s Fur and Gold, on which “I’m On Fire” can be found. Not entirely dissimilar at all in style to the rest of the album, the strings carry the emotion of the song while the harpsichord gives a chilling, tense mood.

Bat for Lashes was one of the first acts which really hooked and threw me head first into a whole new world of music, after a couple of years locked in dull and boring indieland. It was in fact the NME which introduced me to the wealth of quality available, and while her follow up in 2008, Two Suns, is more than likely superior, Fur and Gold will always hold a place in my heart for stealing me away and leading me to discover a great deal of other artists who did very interesting things with more than a guitar and drum kit.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #14 "Sober" - P!nk

“I don't wanna be the girl who laughs the loudest / Or the girl who never wants to be alone"

P!nk’s “Sober” couldn’t have been more different to its predecessor, 2008’s lead single “So What” (released on my birthday, dontcha know). On the latter, P!nk came to terms with a relationship split by screaming so loud she couldn’t or didn’t want to cry, and took it one step further by, rather post-modernly, mocking the whole ‘scream-through-the-tears’ attitude reviewers praised her for refreshingly displaying, in the song’s video. But on “Sober”, on “Sober” we got dark, serious P!nk, perhaps the darkest yet, and considering she’s had her fair share of these moments, ever since the UK chart-topping “Just Like a Pill” in 2002, that was something indeed.

As a mainstream international female popstar, P!nk doesn’t seem to get a lot of credit from critics, and sure enough, her music rarely strays out of her pop/rock comfort zone. But since her sophomore album, M!ssundaztood, she has proven herself to be an incredible lyricist and on “Sober” her talents are in full effect: “I don't wanna be the girl who laughs the loudest / Or the girl who never wants to be alone / I don't wanna be that call at 4 o'clock in the morning / 'Cos I'm the only one you know in the world that won't be home”. Capturing a unique and usually unheard of sentiment in mainstream pop, she brilliantly outlines her incomprehension at just how good she feels without a man, and just how independently she thinks, never putting a male’s needs before her own. It also helps that on “Sober” we get to hear a little musical innovation. Those gorgeous, almost baroque strings at the end are the perfect, emotional but brittle match for P!nk and her fascinating tough girl sensitivy. “Sober” is a songwriting triumph.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #15 "Meltdown" - Missy Elliott

"If you don't cheat or sleep around / Ain't nothin' wrong wit tastin your magic stick / Bet it taste like candy / Made to melt in my mouth"

In 2008 I discovered about 6500 GB of new music that I had not previously heard. In this music was Missy Elliott’s The Cookbook. Up to that point, I’d only heard the Missy songs everyone knew – the classics; “One Minute Man”, “Get Your Freak On”, “Gossip Folks”. The Cookbook was like nothing I’d heard up to that point – consistently excellent hip hop, with a huge, clearly audible range of influences and intelligent, strong and feminist lyrics. And on my journey home from this date, I plugged my headphones in and “Meltdown” began – immediately I was overwhelmed by waves of extremely – there’s no other way of writing this, apols – sexy beats and Missy’s surprisingly gorgeous singing voice.

Beginning with open mockery of the past sexual partners who couldn’t work Missy’s ‘magic stick’, it soon turns into a beautiful admission of love and adoration for her current partner - “I think I’m in love like Beyonce be with Jigga” – interspersed with the various things which make her “pussy quiver”. The production is classic Scott Scorch – smooth, rich and warm – which provides an exciting dichotomy with Missy’s brash and confident rapping style, yet completely makes sense when she sings the chorus. This song entirely changed my view of Missy Elliott and what she does, leading me to diving into her entire back catalogue and experimenting with other female, strong, independent hip hop artists.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #16 "Us" - Regina Spektor

"We're living in a den of thieves / Rummaging for answers in the pages"

Regina Spektor is an extraordinary storyteller and woman of almost limitless imagination, like her piano-based musical mother Tori Amos and grandmother Kate Bush. She uses elements of folk music and mythology to weave incredibly potent narrative into her work, and she uses the drama and resourcefulness of classical music as a benchmark for her often epic, structurally complex work. But of course, you already knew that. Regina Spektor is incredible, and we already dedicated an entire essay/album review to her when her last work was released.

Although the first Regina song I ever had the pleasure to hear was "Consequence of Sounds", with its entirely unique clattering one-note piano part, "Us" was the first Spektor song to blow me away with its billowy tempo and buzzing, hovering strings. The lyrics speak of statues and strangers - tourists and monuments - and can be variously interpreted as a comment on the mistreatment of (and victim blaming aimed at) immigrants or a surreal description of an imaginary city and the peculiar behaviour of its inhabitants. Either way its a pleasure to hear, and laced with the trademark knowing and bittersweet edge that make Regina not just a twee palatable folk confection, but a visionary singer/songwriter and an artist whose albums now debut as higher than Rihanna's in America.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #17 "Holler" - Spice Girls

"Imagine us together me driving you insane / You will give in to me / Don’t be afraid to play my game"

I will never be able to conjure the sentences required to truly help someone else form a completely accurate picture in their minds of how much I adored the Spice Girls. They were my first introduction to music, to pop music, to an obsession – to strong, charismatic, powerful women. They set me off on my path which I’m still walking now, a path of complete fascination and passion for music – and Ginger Spice was my favourite. Gobby, brash, curvaceous; she was my first gay icon. Then she left. This tore my eight year old world apart – looking back to eleven years ago its hard to fathom how much someone that age could care, but I did.

And then the Spice Girls made “Holler”. One of Darkchild’s first major productions, in the canon of the Spice Girls’ solidly consistent excellent pop music, “Holler” is possibly the only one which still remotely has any credibility. In this wave of recognition for late 90s/early 00s RnB we’re currently undergoing, “Holler” stands proud as one of the finest examples. Ironic because it sounds nothing like any of the songs which made the Spice Girls shoot right through the stratosphere and beyond. The cascading guitar introduction, the hip-gyrating beat – who am I kidding, the highlight of the entire thing is Melanie C’s performance in the video. Never have I been more aroused by a fat, hot, sweaty Scouse mess.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #18 "Blindfold Me" - Kelis

"Hold up, you got a pretty strong team / Got somethin' on the bench that Kelis ain't seen"

In 2006 when “Blindfold Me” was released, Kelis was riding along on the surprise success of her previous album campaign’s lead single: the monolithic “Milkshake”. Her label understandably but misguidedly had hooked her up with every ‘hot’ commercial hip hop and R&B producer in the industry in the hopes that her next album, the muddled but brilliant Kelis Was Here, would finally propel her into the stratosphere. It didn’t happen, but it was probably for the best. Kelis and ‘mainstream’ don’t go hand in hand. This is a woman who pushes boundaries most other female singers don’t realise are there, and who continues to delight and surprise even in the context of shameless hitseeking. But anyway…

The first time I heard “Blindfold Me”, it was accompanied by the music video (you can watch it above, it’s dark and incredibly sexy) and I immediately knew it would be a hit. It wasn’t, in fact it flopped spectacularly and prematurely ended what otherwise could have been a lucrative campaign in the US. But, yet again, it didn’t matter. This was a song that took what is otherwise as lame and tired a sexual cliché as fluffy handcuffs (bleh) and made it sound like the best idea since sliced bread. A song with pulsating almost atonal synths and a disturbing high pitched spoken intro that caused a 15 year old boy to reconsider his previous disdain for a whole genre. Music is at its best when it is surprising and alarming and “Blindfold Me”, in 2006, in a sea of fairly inventive commercial R&B, still managed to cut through and sound ‘fresh’. Long live Kelis.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #19 "Freak Like Me" - Sugababes

"Boy you're moving kinda slow / You gotta keep up now / There you go / That's just something that a man must do"

Aside from “Freak Like Me” being quite clearly one of the finest pop songs ever to be laid down, it actually isn’t a Sugababes song whatsoever. The positively filthy lyrics are taken from Adina Howard’s original “Freak Like Me”, while the spine-shiver-inducing backing track is lifted from Gary Numan’s “Are Friends Electric?”. The only remotely Sugababes thing about it is the voices which give life to the lyrics. These points forgotten, the melding of the lyrics and music paired with the husky voices of three council estate tarts creates a completely mainstream pop song which manages to sound entirely underground and hypnotic in a nightclub environment. The bass is mesmerising, the chorus elates and the sound is devastatingly fresh today, nine years after its release.

I first heard this song when I was 11 years old and remember driving my sister up the wall refusing to listen to any other track on Angels with Dirty Faces (an excellent pop album) – nine years later, it holds new resonance as a symbol of the seemingly omnipresent throwaway quality of the Sugababes. Already onto their second line up, this song, in my opinion their finest ever, is made from two components from two very un-Sugababes tracks, mashed up by a separate producer. Nine years later, only one member of the “Freak Like Me” line up remains, herself not even an original member. They were, are and always will be record label constructs and mannequins, but I have to thank for them for helping provide a genuine 21st century pop classic. I miss Mutya.

Shiny & New Turns 2: #20 "Hounds of Love" - Kate Bush

“I found a fox caught by dogs / He let me take him in my hands"

The first time I heard Kate Bush’s “Hounds of Love” I was sitting on a train and the song started up at the precise moment the vehicle powered off into the distance. It gave me the kind of shivers music fans kill for and immediately became one of my favourite songs of all time. Kate Bush’s genius is that she shrouds her melodic and euphoric pop in a delicious and unpretentious mystery and “Hounds of Love” epitomises this. It’s instantaneously memorable, exhilarating and breathtaking but shot through with darkness and shade.

The song appears to tell the story of someone attempting to brew up the courage to act on and embrace love for the first time, having always been too scared – a sentiment not entirely original or ground breaking – but the way Bush explores interlocking themes, (“I found a fox caught by dogs / He let me take him in my hands / His little heart, it beat so fast / And I'm ashamed of running away”), tying images of mortality and violence into the song, like distorted reflections in the water she takes “two steps” on, is a mark of an unmatched songwriting master.