Can one really be joyful without a soundtrack to their elation? We all need a song to sing as we break up our morning walk with a skip, fantasising about who we will see later, what we will drink and how we will laugh. Music gives us that taste of almost forgotten euphoria: that late night Hallelujah moment on the dance floor with the Happy Mondays or the happiness of intimacy when ‘you can’t seem to be loving nobody but them, for all your life.’
There is no guilt in the immediacy of joy, because if it makes you happy it can’t be that bad. The Vampire Sound Inc know this and they don’t care. The lack of caring, the innocence and the purity makes us free with Robert Wyatt, so don’t worry baby, and don’t worry Kyoko.
Heavenly widened roses seem to whisper to me when you smile
Happiness is easy for Talk Talk but disappears with a painful memory for Purple Mountains, we need absence of happiness to really understand the sacred heights of our joy when it returns to us. So often the paradox of these feelings are bought out by music, we can have songs that sound glorious and bring us joy, even though the singer sings of pain. Joy is made more valuable by this acknowledgement. And yet, we still dance.
Life gets better with The Angels and it's a wondrous wonder. Everybody’s happy nowadays and we’re going wild in the streets.
Remember, Iggy is never wrong, and everything will be alright, tonight.