Billy Whizz/Blue 1 by Spacemen 3
|
Russell Hiscox
Smoke-filled bedroom, Ashburton, Dartmoor UK, March 1998
I didn’t really get into Spacemen 3 until 1998; in my early twenties. The last year of my degree. University up till that point had been a breeze. If you turned up to lectures, put something on paper, handed it in on time you got through. That had changed: I was due to leave university in a few months and the pressure was cranked up. I didn’t know if I was going to pass, what I was going to do for work or even where I was going to live.
Every night I would come home from lectures and rest for an hour and have something to eat. Then at 6pm I would go to my room, empty the ashtray, put on Spacemen 3 and start writing up notes and essays. The drug-fuelled paranoia of Spacemen 3’s last album, Recurring, mirrored my own uncertainties about my future. Even the lonely, barren and harsh landscape of Dartmoor was reflected in the minimalistic first half of the album. (The first half of Recurring featured songs from Spacemen 3’s Sonic Boom, the second half is Jason Pierce’s songs. Their relationship had degenerated so much they would only appear together for one song on the album.)
Then at 7.30 pm I would have my first drink. This was almost certainly a homebrew. Brewing was popular in Dartmoor, it was a ‘do-it-yourself’ attitude they had. I had brought loads of brewing kit from recycling centres. I had enough kit and storage to brew 40 pints of beer a week.
I would carry on writing until I was too tired or had too much to drink. Billy Whizz/Blue 1, the last song on Recurring, was the finish to the evening. My stereo was a very cheap portable plastic contraption. But even through this you could feel the gravity of Billy Whizz/Blue 1. Two songs in one, the version on the album is three minutes shorter than the original. It effortlessly builds up to a crescendo and recedes back again. Jason Pierce’s hush vocals sounded like he was in the tiny smoke -filled bedroom with me, whispering about ‘Mary-Anne’.
The night would finish and I would go to bed. The next day would be the inevitable recurring cycle of lectures, dinner, essays, drink and Spacemen 3.
More on Russell Hiscox
Read Russell Hiscox's I was a Teenage Shoegazer.
Smoke-filled bedroom, Ashburton, Dartmoor UK, March 1998
I didn’t really get into Spacemen 3 until 1998; in my early twenties. The last year of my degree. University up till that point had been a breeze. If you turned up to lectures, put something on paper, handed it in on time you got through. That had changed: I was due to leave university in a few months and the pressure was cranked up. I didn’t know if I was going to pass, what I was going to do for work or even where I was going to live.
Every night I would come home from lectures and rest for an hour and have something to eat. Then at 6pm I would go to my room, empty the ashtray, put on Spacemen 3 and start writing up notes and essays. The drug-fuelled paranoia of Spacemen 3’s last album, Recurring, mirrored my own uncertainties about my future. Even the lonely, barren and harsh landscape of Dartmoor was reflected in the minimalistic first half of the album. (The first half of Recurring featured songs from Spacemen 3’s Sonic Boom, the second half is Jason Pierce’s songs. Their relationship had degenerated so much they would only appear together for one song on the album.)
Then at 7.30 pm I would have my first drink. This was almost certainly a homebrew. Brewing was popular in Dartmoor, it was a ‘do-it-yourself’ attitude they had. I had brought loads of brewing kit from recycling centres. I had enough kit and storage to brew 40 pints of beer a week.
I would carry on writing until I was too tired or had too much to drink. Billy Whizz/Blue 1, the last song on Recurring, was the finish to the evening. My stereo was a very cheap portable plastic contraption. But even through this you could feel the gravity of Billy Whizz/Blue 1. Two songs in one, the version on the album is three minutes shorter than the original. It effortlessly builds up to a crescendo and recedes back again. Jason Pierce’s hush vocals sounded like he was in the tiny smoke -filled bedroom with me, whispering about ‘Mary-Anne’.
The night would finish and I would go to bed. The next day would be the inevitable recurring cycle of lectures, dinner, essays, drink and Spacemen 3.
More on Russell Hiscox
Read Russell Hiscox's I was a Teenage Shoegazer.