Song(s) of the Day # 3,378 Smokey Robinson

 

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In my first year at university, (at UEA on Norwich), I did something I've never done before, have never done since and will surely never do again. I'm going to tell you all about it here. Partly for posterity's sake and partly as some kind of cautionary tale.

Autumn '85. I'd bonded incredibly with the three guys in my hall of residence as soon as we met. These kind of relationships only happen when you go to university.

Rod, Ben and James. The names of the other guys. We were made for friendship with one another. Similar university disciplines. Similar politics. Similar cultural and musical tastes. Similar hopes and dreams. It was no accident of course. Naturally the people responsible for these things group people who are taking similar courses next to one another when planning student accommodation for the first year. But they really couldn't have done a better job with us.

At the end of most days that first term, maybe after a couple of pints of snakebite and black at the halls of residence bar, we'd retreat to Rod's room, as he was the one who'd brought his record player and collection up with him. The term started with Smiths, Velvet Underground,, R.E.M. and Talking Heads but as the weeks progressed we moved increasingly towards Soul. Marvin Gaye, Motown and Prince. You rarely heard anything apart from James Brown coming out of James's room.

Then as the year moved on, Smokey. One Saturday Ben, Rod and I found ourselves in town. We made our way, as we generally did, to Backs Records, the fabulous independent record shop in Norwich. At this time a whole set of essential Motown compilation collections had been released, called Anthology.

Ben and I zeroed in on the Smokey Robinson & the Miracles collection. Neither of us had enough money to buy it, but we realised that if we clubbed together the change in our pockets we could do so between us and then toss a coin for ownership. We proceeded to do just that. Ben was convinced that he was sure to lose, given his general customary bad luck in .such matters. I was equally convinced given my own general good fortune that I would win it. But the coin landed in Ben's favour and he got the record.

Naturally, Anthology by Smokey Robinson & The Miracles is now in my collection and it's sat on the desk next to me as I write this. Smokey has got a new solo album out, called Gasms and I' m listening to it on headphones as the sun streams through my window pane on a Bank Holiday Monday morning. It feels glorious.

Gasms is full of the astonishing qualities which make the man such a gift to the planet. The astonishing voice, the exquisite songs that equate sexual joy and spiritual wonder, the fabulous space and taste in the production. It probably won't get the attention it deserves. But it stands up there with the superlative records he's made throughout his long and exceptional career. When Smokey sings, we hear violins. Still.