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Tape Me I'm Yours There is a terrifying moment in Nick Hornby's book High Fidelity when the central character Rob - a reluctant record shop owner, besieged by a mid-life crisis - is interviewed by a young female reporter from his local paper. Toward the end of the conversation - which to be honest is less of an interview and more a display of one man's musical geekery mixed into a none-too-subtle flirtathon - Rob utters the dreaded words: "I'll make you a tape if you want." Now put aside the fact that word tape immediately dates me and him - and quite possibly some of you (it puts us in a dwindling portion of the population who know a thing or two about the Importance of The Pause Button on a Cassette Deck). Put aside the fact that Rob has only just persuaded his long-suffering girlfriend Laura to move back into his flat - so really he shouldn't be casually fanaticising about young female reporters to the point of offering them some sort of musical love letter. The terrifying point is... his tape might be better than mine.
I belong to a part (admittedly not a huge part) of the male race who has spent too much time attempting to communicate with my fellow man - or rather woman - through compilation tapes. And although I'm pleased to report that I've moved onto CDRs instead of cassettes these days, the theory is still the same. Like hundreds of other, malfunctioning musos, I am King of the Compilation Tape. I know a few tricks when it comes to wooing members of the opposite sex with music... and then this guy comes along and blows the whole scam wide open. And as if to really rub it in, my first long-term girlfriend was, as you've probably guessed, a young female reporter on a rival local newspaper, who apparently concluded we had a future together because the tape I gave her included the brilliantly enigmatic 'I Had Too Much To Dream Last Night' by the Electric Prunes. So Nick Hornby, wherever you are, I dropped the book and fretted for two hours (made worse by the fact that I was on a flight to Hong Kong at the time with my then fiancée... not a reporter, but a former fanzine writer who fell for 'Thank You' by the Pale Fountains). Where did this start? Was it recording songs from the radio? Was it a total inability to form a seductive or intriguing personality? Is the compilation simply a device we can hide behind to avoid someone saying 'No' to our face? Whatever it is, compilations can be many things. In your life, especially if you're a boy, you will make the following: 1) a compilation to impress fellow music fans 2) a compilation for a party 3) a compilation to listen to on holiday - unless you now have an iPod, which means you can take 2,000 songs everywhere you go and let the pesky machine do the job for you 4) a compilation to listen to at work (see above) 5) a compilation for a potential lover And there is an art to all of these. But the 'lovers' tape is particularly complicated. After years of honing my craft, I've come to the realisation that there are certain rules you should stick by and definitely a list of things you want to achieve.
It has to create the idea that you have some depth of character, that you're inquisitive, well-balanced and have a sensitive side. It also needs to imply that you're interested, without being TOO interested (no-one wants a tape which screams stalker or bunny boiler). It needs to be entertaining, funny in places and here's the key... touched by a hint of tragedy or loss. For the purposes of this piece I even managed
to persuade my current Ideal Woman to lend me the CD I made her for
Valentines Day (trust me, like picking flowers from the park rather
than sending round Inta-Flora, the homemade touch goes down very well,
especially if you're as cheap or forgetful as I am). Track two is Interpol, who are one of her favourite bands, which is there to prove that I have been listening to her AND that am interested in what she likes too. Honest. The next track is Keane's version of 'The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore' which is an in-joke on many levels and that's followed by Johnny Cash with 'I Walk The Line' - a nice change in style, pace and reference points while also being a good song about fidelity. See where I'm going there? The rest just whistles past and listening to it again now I've started to realise that I like every track on here, which is really quite selfish. But there's Dinosaur Jnr (because I once caught her listening to them at my house); there's a track by Longcut, a group she tipped me off about; The Dears who we went to see on a date; and an old track by the Dutch band Bettie Serveert who I always use as my 'heart-strings' record because it sounds so impossibly fragile and bold at the same time. I can't tell you what she thought, but I can reveal that we are still together. And I'm not daft enough to think that a compilation will keep us together if I fail to remember her birthday or forget to hug her before she goes to work (although doubtless my apology will be at least 16 tracks long). But as a soundtrack to our first six months together it's really quite touching. And not just that... she's promised me a CD in return! I think this must be Love.
Tape Me I'm Yours This text originally appeared
in the Anyone Else isn't you catalogue
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