Dandelion Radio

During a long hot summer, I lay inside a small brown tent, for as long as the day would let me. Patient in isolation, I was happy. The oppressive, canvas-baked heat offered me with the space and privacy to be just me, away from the thoughts and actions of others, and away from my own mistakes. It was liberating and I felt a great sense of freedom. I slept, listened to the radio and read trashy teenage novels; the latter left behind with the heat. I would hold onto my urine for hours, as not to break the spell. If I had joined the worldview of ‘Sweet Valley High’, I would have represented a triumph for my siblings: a real-life embodiment of ‘Sandy’ from Grease. I read the books because they were there, and I was lazy, but my personality was stiff.

I was no goody-two-shoes, and without the aspiration to become the village bike, I was conforming for no one.

Instead of metamorphosing into a pre-teenage slut, I discovered a place of depth that would mark me forever. The only Sindy toy I had truly loved was my Sindy Radio. It looked like a plastic miniature dressing table, but had a socket for a mono earplug. It played AM stations only. I loved listening to it and took it to bed each night. I loved it because it was a radio. It was a very poor radio, in shape, sound and scope, but it worked. I had no interest in dolls, their paraphernalia or their clothes. Unless they could eat, shit or wee to gross comic effect, then they were of no use to me.

By the age of ten, my sister and I were the proud owners of our first real radio. Tuned into the ‘Golden Hour’, in my canvas hide-away, a couple of songs marked me so deeply, that even though I never bought them - I wouldn’t have known how - they appeared in my mind at the strangest of times, and do to this day. They simply sang out from a sea of cheese flavoured pop and greasy commentary.

Those songs were Leonard Cohen’s 'Suzanne' and Don McLean's 'Vincent'.

The songs that I knew the best, at the start of my second decade, were those that my three sisters had fallen for. They were played or sung continuously, and were radio favourites too. They were not the songs that moved my heart.

I told no one about my discoveries, my secret songs. I kept them away from a world that might defile them. They lived inside my head and I made a conscious decision to keep them there. Despite their national popularity, I knew no one else that spoke of them.

At high school, already listening to the radio every night at bedtime, I retreated earlier and earlier to the privacy of my room. There, I created a happy existence that was mine, and mine alone. The more radio I listened to, the more my heart soared. I never did any homework; I rarely had. I drifted, I dreamt and I wrote letters to distant friends. I ate sweets secretly smuggled into my room.

Before long, as well as an expert on chart music, and copious tracks that I internally criticised with glee, I was a John Peel love child. His passion created many of us, dutiful followers of great music, with an insatiable appetite, some of us for life. He was a friend in hard times and he was a friend until he died. The music we shared together, or he shared with me, helped me to find like-minded souls, respect and friends.

While he is no longer here, I am far from alone in my continuing love for the man that I started to fear losing some seventeen years before his death, and some years after I first made his acquaintance.

Although his absence has forced me to do much more of my own research – and listen to many more inadequate songs – the internet does provide.

I miss his voice.

One of the best gap fillers of all is Dandelion Radio. It’s an online station, set up in honour of John Peel, and it’s run by volunteers. It’s a real treat to listen to and a true homage.

There are moments when I have been cruel and unkind.

Fabpants Recommends: The Festive Fifty is being aired daily on Dandelion Radio until the end of January 2009.

Here’s the top ten:
1. The Fall - 50 Year Old Man Download MP3 (courtesy of musiclikedirt.com)




2. Das Wanderlust – Puzzle (sorry, this link has died)


3. Decoration - Square Mile Listen to MP3

4. MGMT - Time To Pretend Download MP3 (courtesy of ohmyrockness.com)




5. Ste McCabe - Huyton Scum (sorry, this link has died)



6. The Container Drivers - It Must Be The Pipes (sorry, this link has died)



7. The Fall - Wolf Kidult Man (sorry, this link has died)



8. The Deirdres - Milk Is Politics (sorry, this link has died)



9. The Hillfields – Spoon (sorry, this link has died)



10. Beatnik Filmstars - Hospital Ward (sorry, this link has died)



Not convinced, well neither am I, but that’s not the point. We can’t all agree.

In my book, it’s often the tracks further down the list that are special. I never have been The Fall’s greatest fan. Unfortunately, Dandelion Radio’s listeners are probably a bit old, so the Festive Fifty may reflect this. Peel would no doubt add that the list includes too many white boys with guitars.

All the same, heads up to the tracks by MGMT, Ste McCabe and Beatnik Filmstars.

The Hillfields and Decoration both pleasantly embody the sound of late 80s indie-pop. The Dierdres track reminds me of ‘Los Campesinos’ at their best. These all get my approval, even if they wouldn't be in my top ten.

Lastly, I’ll give you number 11


Download MP3: The Lovely Eggs – Have You Ever Heard A Digital Accordion? (sorry, this link has died)



Indeed, the eggs are lovely. This track tops any of the top ten.

To hear the rest, you need to head to Dandelion Radio. Please do. My remaining favourites are tracks from Holy Fuck, Fuck Buttons, MGMT and Sigur Rós.

If you were wondering, Half Man Half Biscuit do feature. Could it be a Festive Fifty without them?