Melatonin is for Pussies: The Raw Dog Dream Diaries — Vol. 2
A new occasional series, writing my dreams down before they drift away…
I wrote an academic essay about the 1985 Dire Straits album, Brothers In Arms. I was sure to highlight its importance to the CD revolution. I talked about how Walk of Life was an outright fucking disaster of a song and all because of that pesky, grotesque Hi-De-Hi camp-singalong synth line. If that had been removed it would be a robust little rockabilly number; not a classic, but more in line with some of Bruce Springsteen’s material of the time.
The lecturer handed it back with a “D” grade, which I took to be some kind of special code, if anything it seemed rather cute. But then he asked me to explain myself. So I did. I said that the album was my least favourite Dire Straits album, and the one that paradoxically signalled the end of the band as a creative force, whilst blasting them into the stratosphere of commercial possibilities. It was a weird problem for them to have and signalled the implosion of the band.
The Academic listened, then said that it was all just “a pack of stoner nonsense”. He started going on about how I never mentioned Telegraph Road, nor Tunnel of Love, or Once Upon A Time In The West and Down to The Waterline. But they were all on other albums. Which was connected to my point!
So I took the argument to the academic council. And defended myself on the charge of it being “a pack of stoner nonsense”, effectively I just said, dur, that’s music journalism!
The VC decided I deserved an “A”. He stepped forward to shake my hand, and from under his robes he produced a saxophone, and started in on the intro to Your Latest Trick. Caterers arrived with trays of cocaine and daiquiri glasses filled with pink Miami Wine Cooler. And we fucking partied.
