Kevin is another amazing person I have had the pleasure to get to know over Twitter. Having a passion for both music and writing, I asked him to write a guest post for the blog, as he (just like so many of us) has so many great stories to tell that are all related to music in one form or another. So I hope you enjoy this very first guest post and don’t forget to follow him on Twitter. Much love! x


September 1983, I’m four years old and sat on a Thursday night in front of the television, the blue grey glow lighting up the gathered family like the moon bathing the waves of the sea. A normal early evening scene and one that would never normally be particularly memorable.


The programme isn’t just any old TV show, instead it’s that sadly parted show that introduced so many of us to music as a spectacle for the first time. Top Of The Pops. And on screen comes a man so different to any I’ve seen before, dressed almost like a woman and singing about karma and chameleons, this man is so a pop star.

The funny thing is that this wasn’t just the moment I first became conscious of the spectacle of music, but one of my earliest memories too. As a person that struggles to remember their own dad’s birthday, and occasionally their own age, it seems testament to the power of the obsession that I can remember songs, gigs, TV appearances and records so clearly.

Music has always played a vital role in my life and perhaps it’s that, combined with a strangely romantic view of the world, that has made the reverberation of the airwaves so pivotal in who I am.

Music, and especially records have been my memories and photos down the years, all the major moments of my life have been soundtracked. From the great moments that linger long in the memory, such as the first night with the one that you love, a gig, a date, arms wrapped around her and the smell of her hair floating in the crowd as the music moves you as one with the beat.

Or the childhood memories of sitting, bathed in the warm yellow light of the early morning sun, listening to the needle drop, hiss and pop, on a classic Motown 45, the Beatles white album or slab of straight down the line Rock and Roll – delivered with the power and fire only Chuck Berry or Little Richard could bring – feelings that have travelled with me into my adult life. Helping me form my fetish with a medium, one that holds a modern nostalgia, a feeling of safety, awe and romance.

But then too when life turns, and the rhythms of the world aren’t in your favour music can be your worst enemy. How many times have you felt that pang of regret? or the pain of a moment long forgotten, brought back by the words, feeling or lament of an artist. To hear Jimmy Ruffin sing What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted when you’re feeling good is to revel in the humanity and force of feeling of a great artist portraying the human condition so perfectly. But to hear it when you’re that person, it knocks you sideways, stops you in your tracks and surrounds you once more with the misty fog of emotion. A fog that drops on you, surrounding your soul and isolating you from all around.

But I love the way music makes me feel, good or bad, the power and the fury of it, and I never want to lose it.

So I listen.

I listen when Seu Jorge sings,
Tanto tempo pra pensar
Mas no meio na correria acho que não deu
Eu tentando concertar a nossa história
Mas sem a sua ajuda, não aconteceu
(So much time to think
But in-between all the running around
I think it didn’t work)

And as those final strains and notes leave my ears, whizzing and buzzing round my mind, small fairies of imagination that spread their magic on my mind, I’m thankful. Thankful that my passion can help me find things I’ve never found before, open doors I never knew of and even articulate hurt in a way I never could.

I have been working in the Shoreditch are for almost 10 months now. As some of you might know (and agree/disagree with), it is kind of one of the (many?) “hip & trendy” places in London. 90% of the people you see around here look like they were taken from some kind of magazine, styled to the bone but (trying to) making it look like it is so effortless and that they just woke up and looked like that in the morning.

Now we all know that I am not the girliest of girls, and Im sure as hell not one of the trendiest, or prettiest, or thinnest of girls either. And as stupid and ridiculous as it might sound, being surrounded by all these people, especially some of the girls who give you that “oh my god the way you look makes me feel sick” stare when you pass them is really starting to get to me.

I had a very set and pre-made-up conception about this area before I started working here, and during the 3 years I had been in London for, I think I had come down to this area twice. Now that I have been here for a while, I have to admit that there are some pretty cool places around here. However, I still cant help feeling slightly out of place.

Every time I come to work, I get more and more self conscious about the way I look and what clothes I wear. I think I need to go on the Shoreditch diet, dont eat for like 4 months, lose like 10000 pounds, and spend my saved up food money on second hand/Brick Lane market/designer clothes, whilst practising that stare in the mirror, and who knows, maybe I’ll fit in here around Christmas time.

Just some random thought…

New day, new week, and a new year.

I remember going to see a psychic who told me 2008 would be a life changing year for me. And looking back on it now, it sure was.

January was filled with exams and studying, but ended with a big bang and laughter and a pink princess dress and the lusting after Mr Pete Dyson, one of the best lecturers my university will ever have the pleasure to have.

In February I had a slight mental breakdown due to confusion and fear for the future, but it was also the month I went to Nottingham for the first time and visited my dear friend David.

March was a weird month… I went home to Sweden for a job interview, had a fight and broke up with my boyfriend who I was living with at the time. Found myself all alone and completely broken for Easter. The highlight was however that I ended up with a job interview at Brownswood Recordings by some crazy miracle.

April was the month I got to know my uni mates a bit better. It was also the month where I went to my first Brownswood event, and of course, my crazy Bristol trip to visit Neil and Ina, where we were joined by Wiktor and LOTS of home made Mojitos, and where I had the pleasure to get to know John, aka Powercut, who is one of the nicest people ever!

Whilst the month of May was filled with crazy amount of studying, it was also the month I had the pleasure to meet and see one of today’s most talented and amazing artists, Mr José James. I also went to see the incredible street art/graffiti exhibition with Tuite, and I finished my exams and headed off to one of the most amazing birthday parties to date, Nat’s 21st, which had a BOUNCY CASTLE and a lot of laughter and silliness.

In June, I ran away to Sweden to work and get away from the London craziness. Tried to figure out my next move, didn’t succeed very well. Got a crazy visit from my ex who flew over to Sweden from London. I also got to know a boy a bit better who I became very fond of. Flew back to London where I had a brilliant experience seeing Erykah Badu at the Carling Academy down in Brixton.

I had one of the best times of my life in July when I flew down to the Worldwide Festival in Seté with the Brownswood crew. Saw some amazing artists, got to meet and hang out with one of my favorite bands, managed to get a tan, did crazy dancing on the beach, swam in the ocean, became very good friends with some Austrian boys (Lukas I miss you!), ate a lot of French cheese, and came back to London to rock out at the Death Jazz night where Soil & PIMP Sessions stole the show and left us all wanting more.

Turned 22 in August, never really liked my birthdays. Was joined by Lukas who made everything better. Had a visit from the boy, was annoyed we couldnt really be together. Tried to find a job, got more and more depressed. Freaked out about money and house situations, lost my wallet. Had another personal crisis and mental breakdown.

Early autumn and September didnt really come with any solutions. Managed to sort the living situation. Was still trying to find a job, got more and more depressed. Was finally given a break and got a job. Things started to look a bit brighter.

Started working much more in October. Had another visit from the boy. Felt very loved up and happy for the first time in a long time. Started working at Bar Rumba at the Brownswood club night. Gained a very good and close friend in a slightly strange way. Got screwed over by my university.

Worked even more in November, people started to get worried. I was happy because I felt needed. Cried when Obama won. Continued working but felt like I couldnt deal with certain things in my life.

Then winter really came with December, I finally got to hang out with Gavin. Cut off all my hair (almost). Worked even more, gained some new friends, went to my first office christmas party. Was given a promotion. Missed a lot of people. Spent Christmas with my mum. Worked a bit more. And then it was over…

Rang in the new year with some close friends. Ran away for 2 days. Spent time with Nat. Got very drunk, laughed a lot, lost the feeling in my feet (stupid cold weather!). And now it is safe to say, that officially, 2009 in my head, starts today.

New job (at the same place) and some goals and plans that need to be put in immediate action so they can be achieved before 2010.