How did I get hear? #13 Mike Houlahan on Cocteau Twins' "Treasure"

 

It is 1984, and we are in a suburban bedroom in the most suburban of Wellington suburbs, Tawa.

 

Earlier in the year, on the first day of the new school year at Tawa College, I had walked into my new classroom and found a bloke I knew only lightly by sight was in my class.

He wasn't hard to spot . . . he was dancing on top of a desk, to the music reverberating in his own head.

 

I suspect most of my peers decided at that point that this was someone to be avoided. I, on the other hand, decided that this guy must be the most interesting person in the room and that I should get to know him.

 

It turned out that he lived just around the corner from me, and that he possessed what seemed at the time to be the best record collection in the world.

 

One of the first things that he played for me was The Cocteau Twins "Treasure" – I'd never heard anything like it before, and not all that much like it since to be honest. Soaring, ethereal vocals, intricate melodies, and churning, effects-laden guitars swirling over a thudding drum machine, this was a special record. I borrowed it, thrashed it, recorded it (home taping is wrecking music, kids) and thrashed it some more.

I could even ‘sing' along to the lyrics, although given that most of them seemed to be made up gibberish you could warble any old rope and who would know?

 

I loved it then and love it still. The band, wrongly of course, still regard it as the worst thing that they released, while grudgingly accepting that it's the album most of their fans love the most. What do musicians know eh?

 

It is a record which can be uplifting and mysterious, dark and moody, or growling and snappy, depending on your mood. Thirty years on, it still gets a spin or two most months.

 

I subsequently bought everything the Cocteau Twins ever released, so that much played c90 blank cassette did not rip them off too much. And – joy of joys – I got to see Cocteau Twins live in London in 1994 supported by Stereolab. Now that's a heck of a double bill.

 

The dancing guy with the great taste in music was Peter Jamieson, who would go on to be an important figure in the Wellington music scene. I would go on to write about him, having got my break in journalism  – a trade I still pursue today as an associate editor on the ODT – as a music writer for the now long since closed Evening Post.

 

All of which just goes to show where a random encounter and a great record can get you.