Song of the day – 632: Tangerine
I am a fucking lollipop on a fucking 3-inch stick for this music. You must know this about me by now. A fucking sink plunger covered with gunk and gristle. An eight-miles high warning sign plastered in bird shit and failed sun-journeys.
What more do you need to know? This could be Manors. It’s not. This could be You Me & Us. It’s not. This could be Hop Along. It’s not. This could be Go Violets. It’s not. This could be Cosines. It’s not. This could be Camera Obscura. It’s not.
How long would you like this list to go on for? Such saturation of sound. Saturated with gorgeousness and the sort of female harmonies that you wish would haunt your waking hours. The crush I have on Tangerine is not even vaguely sexual: its intensity and desire for release goes way, way beyond that. You’re thinking 60s, right? The 60s NEVER sounded like this, nothing sounded like this. Everything. The guitar fading back through. The plaintive edge to the lead vocal. The solid, never grating drum beat. The repetition of the main statement. The fade-out trio. The slightly abrasive, playful guitar solo. The fade to purple.
Every time I play it, I want to play it even more. I want to play it in double time, triplicate, stop after 3 seconds and play it immediately, stop after 30 minutes and play it instantly.
Everything about this. Everything.
Photography: Emma Woods
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