So this month, we’re all choosing a song for our entrance. Our entrance to what? Our own entrance to our biggest party? To our funeral? To our birth? To our wedding? To the beginning of our best DJ set? Well, that’s for us to decide. It’s the moment we arrive, we walk in, we’re wheeled in. It’s our entrance!
I immediately knew what kind of track I wanted to choose, because of my day job. I spend my life collecting tracks that I’d love to use one day in an awesome film or TV script. Of course, it almost never transpires that I get to do that, but it doesn’t stop me imagining. And over the years, I’ve amassed quite a collection. Now and again, I’m either delighted or dismayed (or a bit of both) to see them used in other stuff. Killing Eve’s brilliant use of French Ye-Ye pop, well you can imagine how gutted I was about that!
Anyway, my choice is for an entrance to a fictitious character. A me, but a made-up me. And by sheer coincidence, I actually played this track on this Sunday’s Mondo Pop show. So the Gods are aligned. It was meant to be.
OK, let’s make up some daft scene, off the top of my head. Let’s say it’s 1979, and there’s an English businessman trying to do a deal with the Sicilian Mafia. Thing is, he’s not a businessman, he’s a spy or a diplomat, and the money he’s going to hand over is the first part of an elaborate sting to catch the Mafia head honcho.
So he’s shitting himself. He needs to pull this off. When he gets off the plane to Palermo, and gets in the waiting car, and is driven to the club to meet the man to whom he’s going to hand this money over – this is the song that kicks in as he walks into the club in slo-mo, palms sweaty, eyes fixed straight ahead, trying to keep it cool. Early 70s Italian pop-funk of the highest order, and a song Tarantino would be happy to slide into a soundtrack.
So this is my entrance. It’s the entrance I’m writing for someone who doesn’t exist, in which I get to play the lead role.
And in the meantime, back in the real world, I can at least slip it into our headphones, and walk down the road, in the middle of my own personal movie…
thisisnothappening.net 