Progressive Thoughts - Day 10

Today’s song is one of my all-time favourites by yet another band from Birmingham, the Moody Blues. I’m sure you have heard the song before – Nights In White Satin:

The song is basically a beautiful and emotional love song, the kind of song that I normally wouldn’t like. It’s not that I’m not romantic – I think I am. The problem is that I find generic love songs a little too contrived whose sole purpose is to rip your heart strings.

If you are just beginning a truly wonderful relationship, and everything is new, then perhaps love songs can express human feelings -  that is unless the lyrics are extremely corny.

If you have just broken up, or had a failed attempt to win over the heart of a fair maiden, then such songs can become your nemeses. 

There are one or two that I still cannot bear even a couple of decades after the event.  I am in a long term loving relationship with the woman who is “the one” and yet when I hear these songs, I feel like Satan himself has ripped out my heart and taken a big bite with a grin on his malevolent face.

That’s what love songs can do for you, dear reader.

So, how do these songs get into your head? Let me tell you.

I regard music as a surreal kind of time machine. A song can propel you back in time to your life at the time it was popular or had meaning in your life. You hear the opening notes of the song and a box of memories is opened in your mind that remind of the time you heard that song or when it was important in your life.

I have a vast collection of 1980’s songs that do just that, propelling me back to the time when I was young and when life was truly exciting; songs that remind me of good times, friends etc. but most of all that remind me of my successful and failed attempts to acquire a girlfriend – and there are far more times when I failed.

Any love song from that time will cause what is left of my heart to lurch but one two in particular invoke a mixture of rage and pain. It’s almost like a phobia. 

One of the artists responsible for the song in question specialises in the sugary nonsense that drips from loving youthful relationships. But they don’t prepare you for the inevitable pain. As a consequence of one particular incident, which I won’t relate for fear of bringing back more pain, I now refuse to listen to ANY songs by this artist. It’s not that I hate them – it’s just that their performances evoke that nasty bilious feeling of rejection and heartbreak.

There must be millions of people who hate certain songs and artists for the same reason.

Of course, on the other hand, there are some songs that loving couples regard as “our song”, and such love songs serve a purpose. The problem is that you both have to like the song. 

Mrs PM and I do not share the same taste in music and the truth is there aren’t any songs that we could regard as “our song”.

I have associated one or two from my collection with my lovely lady, but I can tell you all this for free – she will hate every single one of them.

I am certain it’s the same case the other way round too.

Nevertheless, I still love Nights in White Satin and I thank the Lord that I was too young to care less about women when it was released in the late 1960’s.

I’d hate to hate it.

I Wanna Know What Love Is?

It’s time for some stupid research. I’ve always wanted to know what love is and I sure that you, dear reader, are curious about love too. We think we know what love is but do we really?

I’ve decided to look into my music collection for inspiration because most bands, musicians and singers spend a lot of time writing about love – so who better to advise me?

First of all, this post needs a soundtrack – here is "Love" by the French pop group Air who seem to think that repeating the word Love over and over and over again is enough to inspire you to – well – love I guess.

Press play and continue reading – it may just help.



It seems that not all bands and artists know what love is. Foreigner famously said “I wanna know what love is” and asked you, the listener to show them. I don’t think I would want to show a bunch of middle aged male musicians what love is to be fair.

It’s a rather strange request in my view.

 Also, Howard Jones asks “What is love anyway? Does anybody love anybody anyway?"

It seems that when you are in love, you don’t necessarily know it. Whitesnake, for example, ask “Is This Love?”

I think people do love each other and with the help of my musical collection I will prove it.

So what exactly is love?

Well my research has got me slightly worried. Apparently “Love is the Law” (The Seahorses), which implies that it may be a criminal offence not to be in love or not to know what love actually is. Perhaps that’s why everybody claims to be in love without actually knowing what it is in case the love police come to arrest them. The love police, if they exist, may arrest you anyway because “Love is the Drug” (Roxy Music). Robert Palmer must have overdosed on love because he became “Addicted to Love”.

Is there some form of rehab if you suffer from such an addiction? I presume that when you have completed your therapy, you have to shatter your ties with love. Rainbow managed this because they preach that  “Love’s No Friend”.

Whether it’s a drug or not, love can be difficult to find because “Love is Rare” (Morcheeba). This is confirmed by The Eurythmics who go further and tell us that “Love is a Stranger”. If that’s the case then why do so many people claim to fall in love?

I’m confused by this. The Darkness have tried to shed some light on this by telling us that “Love is only a Feeling”; I think it’s more than that, if I’m honest and it can be quite dangerous.

Pat Benatar has warned us that “Love is a Battlefield” with The Little Angels even weaponising love with the claim that “Love is a Gun”. Presumably they used a “Love Gun” (Kiss) when in battle. Anyway, I think that if such a battle were to take place then the odds of winning are slim to non-existent. How do I know this? Because “Love Conquers All” (Deep Purple).

And there will be casualties from this battlefield too; there are no rules in this particular type of combat. Def Leppard report that “Love Bites”. This is confirmed by Nazareth who claim that “Love Hurts”.

Basically, I think we are fighting a losing battle so we may as well dive into love and embrace it, otherwise it could prove fatal because, according to Vixen, “Love is a Killer” and Brian May validates this with the cautionary note that “Too Much Love Can Kill You”. Freddy Mercury goes further and simply states that “Love Kills”.

There is hope that if you are killed or maimed  by love, you can also be revived quite easily, which is encouraging, because “Love is like Oxygen” (The Sweet).

I’m still none the wiser really because now I have established that love has many violent forms such as “Napalm Love” (Air): I was rather disturbed when I discovered this – perhaps it is a weapon used on Pat Benatar’s battlefield. There seems to be a sinister undercurrent of aggression and insanity as confirmed by the Jim Steinman who reports the existence of “Stark Raving Love”.

Perhaps we all need to fight back. I think we can do this because Def Leppard offer us hope with the existence of “Fractured Love” and The Hives report that they have seen “Love in Plaster”.

There is hope for us all; we can control love and turn it into exactly what we want. We can be a bad influence and create “Tainted Love” (Soft Cell) and “Sinful Love” (Blue Öyster Cult). If you are a bit of a sadomasochist, perhaps you can be tempted by “Dirty Love” (Thunder).

Once you have love under control you can nurture it and make it grow into “Big Love” (Robert Plant, Fleetwood Mac).

Faith No More have gone one step further and gone swimming with their “Underwater Love”.

Once you have love under control you can determine who you want to be in love with. I have some suggestions. Alice Cooper recommends “This Maniac’s in Love With You” which may be a little too hazardous for some readers (me included). If you like to live life in the fast lane with speed as your friend perhaps you could choose a “Turbo Lover” (Judas Priest).  Other options include AC/DC’s “Love Hungry Man” which, to be honest wouldn’t be my cup of tea.

The good news that you can turn to religion for inspiration. Thunder certainly appear to have done this as they told me about “The Gods of Love” - apparently you can pray to them too.

Once you have found love you need to look after it and be wary of the pitfalls. For example Aerosmith warn that “Falling in Love is Hard on the Knees”. Perhaps they are doing it wrong.

And there are things that will try to take your love away from you. Depeche Mode were victims of “The Love Thieves” who were ably assisted by Kate Bush and her “Hounds of Love” and Whitesnake’s “Love Hunter”.

If you can escape these threats you can have a lot of fun. How about riding the “Love Rollercoaster” with the Red Hot Chilli Peppers or joining The B52’s in their “Love Shack”?

Sounds like fun to me.

I hope I have helped you understand the ups and downs of love and I would like to thank my iPod for inspiration.

Please (don’t) take my advice seriously – better still do a little research yourself and let me know what you discover.

If you are struggling after all that you can go to see Level 42 who, I believe, are still offering  “Lessons in Love” at a reasonable price.

They can teach you the inspirational quote from ABC’s “The Look of Love”:

“If you judge a book by the cover
Then you judge the look by the lover.
I hope you soon recover.
Me I go from one extreme to another.”

Mrs PM knows that I love her because I always tell her that “I Love You More Than Rock And Roll”.

And that is something she cherishes.

I'm In Love With My Car

Why do many men fall in love with their cars?

And if you don’t think that they do, think again. A large number of men are obsessed with their cars and treat them better than they treat their women.

I hasten to add that I am not in this category. I drive, what my mates describe, as a shed on wheels. It is a thirteen year old banger, although the manufacturers prefer to call it a “Ford Escort”. Boy racers and car-obsessed guys pour scorn on my old car, and openly mock me for continuing to use what they also describe as a “heap”.

I’ve owned my car now for about nine years. One of the reasons that I have kept it, instead of succumbing to pressure from car-loving mates to replace it, is that my car is totally and utterly reliable. In the time I have owned it, my car has only let me down once; I broke down on the M62 crawling up a hill in a traffic jam and the car overheated because a fan had failed. The breakdown guy who rescued me managed to get it going within two minutes and I managed to get home without further problems.

Sure, it’s got a few dents, a couple of rusty spots and it has definitely seen better days, but it still goes. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that the point of having a car? Aren’t cars simply meant to be devices that simply take us from A to B?

One thing’s for sure; I am definitely not in love with it. I would be a little miffed if something happened to it, but not for any reason other than the inconvenience it would cause.

There are men I know who have spent hundreds of pounds on their cars; their obsession is laughable. All of their spare time is spent polishing the thing and when you are a passenger in it, you have to watch where you put your feet.

These guys drive around for fun; I HATE driving – the only reason I do it is because it gets me to my destination quicker. I have absolutely no desire to drive around for the hell of it. We’re talking about guys who would marry their cars if it were legal to do so.

One mate of mine was so in love with his car that he barely drove the thing; it sat in his garage and he polished it religiously and rarely went out in it. His wife had an old banger and he used that instead Then came the fateful day when his wife announced that she was pregnant. He was faced with a stark choice. Well, to his wife it was a no-brainer but to him it was a huge problem. Could he afford to keep a high performance beauty of a car that he rarely drove AND have the ability to support his wife and forthcoming child? In the end, common sense prevailed and he sold it. There were tears in his eyes as he handed over the keys. He also handed over a handwritten book about how to look after the car, covering details of which polish to use, how often to service it, etc. and what to call it when he drove it.

And his final word was “If you crash it, I’ll bloody kill you.”

He didn’t say that really but I know that he was thinking it.

You only have to watch TV shows like Top Gear to get a feel for man’s obsession with his four-wheeled friends. The three presenters spend the entire show drooling over the latest high performance motors, blinding us with statistics about how fast the things go:

0 to 60 in 2 seconds – now THERE’S a car

I love the show because it is hilarious but the obsession with cars is there for even the most stupid among us to see.

I must admit that some of the cars featured on the show are quite exquisite to look at but how the hell could the vast majority of people in Britain (or indeed anywhere) afford such a beast? Most of the cars featured on the show cost more than my house. If I were to drive a top of the range Ferrari around Manchester, I would be travelling at 5 mph for fear of damaging it. And woe betide the person who crashed into me.

Why do people spend so much on cars? I don’t understand it. My old banger costs quite a lot to keep it on the road and, although the repair, service and MOT bills are modest, they are still expensive. To service a top of the range car (even a modest saloon) it would cost a fortune. To me that would be a disaster – it would be like throwing my wallet over the cliff – utterly pointless and very expensive.

And have you ever been to a motor show?

A car-loving mate once persuaded me to go down to Birmingham to see a show covering mainly motor sport. He and just about every other male there were drooling over the sports cars, formula one cars, rally cars etc. – I was drooling over the busty models who were sitting on the bonnets of these cars (and I think I was in a minority). Honestly, the place was awash with dribble from car-obsessed men. There were stalls with wheels, bits of engines and all sorts of other anatomical bits and pieces for high performance cars and I have never seen so many men in lust with them. It was absurd and ridiculous. I was bored out of my brain after an hour or so.

My mate spotted a Finnish rally driver and bought a video covering a two year old rally season just so that he could get the guys autograph; I’d never heard of the man, even though I exchanged a few words with him. I can’t even remember his name and I wouldn’t know him again even if I tripped over his outstretched boot.

If only I had been single, good-looking and charming, I could have tried to pull one of the busty models – but sadly that was also a non-starter.

All the way back, my mate enthused over the show and I nodded but lost interest. I haven’t been back to another show.

There is a song by Queen called “I’m In Love With My Car” and I reckon that it could have been written by any one of my mates who are obsessed with their cars. The lyrics are very funny to somebody like me, who regards them as functional devices – here are a few excerpts:

When I’m holdin your wheel
All I hear is your gear
When my hands on your grease gun
Oh its like a disease son

I'm in love with my car
Gotta feel for my automobile
Get a grip on my boy racer rollbar
Such a thrill when your radials squeal

Told my girl I’ll have to forget her
Rather buy me a new carburettor

Here’s the song in full:



I personally think that Roger Taylor’s lyrics probably don’t go far enough for men who love their cars; perhaps they would if the song were called “I’m OBSESSED with my car”, with new lyrics:

When I’m rubbing your wheel
All I feel is your gear
When I’m stroking your bodywork
Oh your touch drives me beserk

I’m obsessed with my car
Want to marry my automobile

Anyway, my old banger does me proud but it will be a sad day when it finally dies and goes to that great garage in the sky.

Why?

Because I’ll have to bloody well fork out for a new one, that’s why.

What Is Love, Anyway?

Today’s post is a minor diversion from my usual inane mutterings.

I’ve been reading a lot of blogs recently where people elucidate their feelings about the mystery surrounding love. It’s not the kind of thing I would normally write about or even hold a conversation about to be honest. However, some of the beautiful things I have read in the past few weeks have inspired me to attempt to explain what love means to me.

As a man, this may prove to be difficult because as a rule men aren’t very good at talking about romance or the "L" word. When guys get together we rarely talk about our relationships. We are happy to talk about work, football, cricket and cars but as soon as the subject of love comes up, a strange shroud of discomfort descends and all concerned quickly revert back to chatting about the big game next week. I used to be married and when it fell apart I found that I couldn’t talk to my friends because they really didn’t want to know – or if they did, they could offer no advice and were reluctant to be the shoulder that I needed. Furthermore, I didn’t know how to talk to them. Don’t get me wrong; they were aware of how I felt but thought that the problem could be solved by a hearty slap on the back and another pint of the landlord’s famous ale.

That was a long time ago,

Now, however, if I were to tell my male friends how much I love Mrs PM, the subject would be changed as soon as is humanly possible, even as quickly as the next sentence. Therefore I don’t talk about love to guys. And guys don’t talk about love to me.

Women on the other hand talk about it all the time. I don’t want that to sound like I am generalizing but that is my understanding based on conversations I have heard and from what Mrs PM has told me. Just the other week, I was in a pub and I couldn’t help eaves-dropping a conversation between two young women who were discussing their partners over a bottle of wine. I didn’t know the two women but the conversation was compelling; I immediately realised that each of them was very keen to sing the praises of their men and do so in great detail. It made me feel slightly ashamed because I know that two men would never do that. They may chat about women, their partners even, but it would not be so open and emotional. There are some exceptions I sure but I am convinced that’s the way we are.

Back to the subject in hand: allow me to go against the grain and talk about what love means to me.

Love is impossible to describe and furthermore it can be difficult to differentiate between the various aspects of love. For me, my relationship with Mrs PM has evolved over the ten years we have been together.

When we first met, there was an immediate bond. I knew fairly quickly that this wonderful woman was the fabled “one”. Until that moment I was sceptical about people I had heard talking about “the one”. Mrs PM was my soul mate and when we first got together I was swept away on a tsunami of obsession. She occupied my every thought and for a short time I was worried that I was a victim of infatuation. When I was with her I was deliriously happy; when we were apart I pined for here like a man lost in the wilderness.

As the months went by, the obsession faded and something more meaningful took its place. I was still delighted in her company and I missed each moment apart but I came to terms with her absence, looking forward to the time we would be together again.

Over the years, we have in many ways become even closer. To describe Mrs PM as my soul mate is an understatement. She is witty (far wittier than I am), intelligent (far smarter than I am) and she understands me more than I do myself. We talk for hours about everything. I would do anything for her – indeed I have humiliated myself just to make her happy on several occasions (read about it here. I am happy to support her when she needs a shoulder to cry on simply because when she is down I am too. I am a verbal punch bag when she needs to let off steam.

Without Mrs PM I would be an empty shell. When I am returning from a business trip my heart is filled with a strange fuzzy warmth when I think about seeing her again. She is my best friend.

After all this time together, my feelings are as strong now as they ever were. In November we are returning to Hong Kong, where our relationship started to celebrate our tenth anniversary. I can’t wait; neither can Mrs PM.

Normal blogging service will be resumed in the next post but I hope that in the meantime you get an understanding of what love means to a forty six year old Mancunian. I’m sure many men feel the same way – but just don’t like to talk about it. Maybe we should open up a little more.