I'm not a big fan of soul, or R n' B as they call it today. In fact, someone accused my ipod of being racist because it had no Beyonce or hip hop on it. It's true I have no Beyonce but there's plenty of black music on there: Motown, northern soul, the Jacksons, Otis Reading, loads of jazz, the Rocksteady Crew, Hootie & the Blowfish (yes, really) and even some Public Enemy. But if you weigh it up compared to everything else it's fair to say it's pretty thin on the ground.
What I do have a bit of a soft spot for however, are some of those nice over-produced, lush, one-off funk or soul hits from the early to mid-Eighties. You know the sort of thing: The Rain by Oran "Juice" Jones, Shake You Down by Gregory Abbott, Always by Atlantic Starr or Zoom by Fat Larry's Band. These hitmakers were quite flash in the pan - can you name another Gregory Abbott song? - but these records were big hits.
If you went into wine bars in the Eighties called Street Level or Boogies then onto clubs called Cinderella Rockafella's, Barbarella's, Friday's or Raffles, then you wouldn't hear Duran Duran or Simple Minds. It was this kind of thing. Feel So Real by Steve Arrington, When You Say You Love Somebody (In The Heart) by Kool & The Gang or Somebody Else's Guy by Jocelyn Brown - these were soundtracking those sort of places. Unless it was student night then you'd get The Cult or The Smiths. I had no objection to popping into one of these places as a warm-up, as it was one of the only places where town met gown and it didn't all kick off. Must have been the music.
The wildlife consisted of the locals. Electricians, secretaries, mechanics, hairdressers, shop workers and insurance admin clerks called Dean, Tony and Chris, Fran, Tracy or Jayne. I'm not being a snob - this is how it was.
He'd be in burgundy sta-prest pegs with a baggy white shirt done up at the collar tucked right in and grey soul slippers offset by white socks gently swaying to Central Line's You're The One For Me.
Or he'd be a twat in a hat pulled down over one eye, with Martin Gore hair, who wore baggy straight-leg trousers tucked into pixie boots wearing a flying jacket over a David Sylvian shirt and bowtie combo self-conciously grooving to Mtume's Juicy Fruit
The women would sport sub-Joanne from The Human League haircuts or the early Tracy Thorn look, wearing diagonal striped dresses or mint green bolero cardigans with three-quarter length sleeves paired with pedal pushers, and set off by white stilettos, white handbags and lots of gold jewellery. The Tracie look. What a catch.
From what I remember, it was all rather good natured fun, and if you stuck around you might get to dance to Colonel Abrams' Trapped or Let The Music Play by Shannon.
Oh those salad days. Do you have a spot spot for something you should by rights loathe?
