The The – Soul Mining

Every time I play this record, it's like stepping into a time machine straight back to the mid-eighties. You've probably seen Ratatouille, where the grumpy food critic takes one bite and is instantly transported back to his childhood. That's exactly what this album does to me. Soul Mining was released in 1983. The following year I was doing my military service. I was standing in a record shop in Kristianstad, casually flipping through the vinyl bins, when a complete stranger said: "Have you heard The The?" - "What a ridiculous name for a band," I remember thinking. But the cover caught my eye. I bought it based on nothing more than a recommendation from someone whose face apparently looked trustworthy enough. What a purchase that turned out to be. If you've never heard This Is the Day, do yourself a favour. The strings, the deep, hypnotic bass, and above all the lyrics. The song moves along almost like a lullaby while quietly reminding you that, in the end, our memories are what hold our lives together. Sometimes life can look wonderful from the outside, while inside all you want to do is close the curtains, lie down on that old single bed again, and drift back to a time when—whether it's true or not—you remember yourself as being happier. The strange thing is how timeless the song feels. Today we tend to romanticise the eighties as a colourful decade full of optimism and endless possibilities. But when Soul Mining was released, it wasn't nostalgia—it was simply the present. Nobody knew what was waiting around the corner. As a vinyl record, this album ranks very high on my personal list. If you don't already own it, find a copy. As for me, I'm actually considering buying another copy. The copy I'm listening to right now sounds like frying bacon. But it's been with me for more than forty years, and every crackle reminds me that records are meant to be played, not locked away on a shelf. Long live Matt Johnson.