Mix Tape for Small Town Boys
Patrick Cowley feat Sylvester, Menergy:
In 1982, I was another refugee fresh off the train and safe from fists. You smiled at me in Heaven nightclub. Hi-Energy music soothed as poppers and smoke became my new aftershave. You told me your name was Ross, I said I was Shaun. You said you rarely told people your real name. I said, why lie. You said, you’ll learn. Our hips hustled all night. You'd been in London for 6 months, the streets your home. Slicing a living from the men in suits who shuffled their secrets on the way home. You let me sleep in your corner of a lost street.
2. Joan Armatrading, Drop the Pilot:
In 1983, the housing officer handed you the keys to our new flat in Stepney. Only one of us could be on the tenancy. Men like us unrecognised. Our new home was empty of furniture and carpets but painted with streaks of mould. We danced as London winked its promise from the twelfth floor.
3. Miquel Brown, So Many Men, So Little Time.
In 1984, you had been working out, engraving the dancefloor with your expanding calf muscles. Time deluded us. We talked of dreams - you wanted to be a dancer, and I wanted to own a record shop. We went home and wrote a list.
4. Erasure, Heavenly Action.
In 1985, my mouth cracked as I watched you from the window, off to your first day at university. I half giggled as my stomach peaked a few waves at the list we made. That MP. Spitting at people like us on the cover of the papers but hunting out rejected boys. Home Counties hubris whose addiction to risk hoovered up our spilt youth. We shoplifted a Polaroid camera and asked him to book a hotel. As he revelled in lines of cocaine, we suggested games – role-playing scenes from his youth. Stripping like the miner's town I was from. We dealt the photos as if we owned the strip in Las Vegas, he opened a line of credit to his bank account as he growled on about offshore accounts and dodgy deals. We stayed true to our word and destroyed the images but a year later, I saw him lead a pale young man through the concourse of Charing Cross station. Broken as his addiction to breaking others was too strong.
5. Deacon Blue, Raintown:
In 1986, we went to Glasgow. Your hometown of rain that flipped across the decomposing shipyards. Your mum had permission to hug her son for the first time in five years because your dad had died.
6. Madonna, Live to Tell:
In 1987, that advert on TV about tombstones and death led us to get tested for HIV. We saw Madonna on her Who's That Girl tour the day we got our results. She created a bubble. I can still see the smear of tears on the bathroom floor that night as this song reeled from the record player.
7. Grace Jones, Slave to the Rhyme:
In 1988, you put your head down for your final year – essays and performances snaking their way through your veins. I kept the record shop open till late. I watched you carve your final exam piece into a first, with your dedication, decadence and defiance as my eyes pierced golden tears with pride.
8. Labi Siffre – Something Inside So Strong:
I don't believe it's 1989. I don't want to go out tonight; let's stay on the 12th floor tonight. We can add more songs to this mixtape– watch the city explode with fireworks. I'm so proud of you for landing the dance gig on Madonna's Blonde Ambition Tour. I’ll put the worry about the tenancy out of my head for now – you’re always be my home.
I am from Plymouth and came to writing later in life due to undiagnosed neurodivergence and having too much fun back in the day. I write about being gay/queer, queer history and sometimes neurodivergence. Find me on Instagram @fuzzboxed.