Songs from the North of Melbourne

Today I decided that it was winter. We've got the heater on at my house, I've just put a flannelette sheet on my bed, and I've whipped out my vinyl of "Spirit of Eden" by Talk Talk.

Now, in Melbourne it doesn't matter what actual season it technically is. Right now, being still only April, it would officially be autumn. But that's not the point. In Melbourne, winter is a feeling, an attitude, and a way of life. Nowhere in Australia does winter like Melbourne. You could even say that Melbourne is a city that can only be truly appreciated in winter, especially when you're in the north, and the only thing resembling a beach for you is the north shore of Coburg Lake.

And, when you've got Mark Hollis to keep you company for the winter, you'll almost wish that winter could begin in April. There's something comforting about winter after an oppressively hot summer. It somehow refreshes you. Everything feels a bit more cosy. And perhaps it's the way that the crackle of vinyl resembles a fireplace, but there's something very wintry, and simultaneously warm, about listening to a record. You don't want to think of fireplaces in summer. But in winter, there's scarcely a more pleasant thought.

The opening, slow-fading-in sound of the cor anglais in "The Rainbow" is the perfect beginning to a wintry night in. Everything is peaceful, dreamy and incredibly soothing from that moment on, perhaps the most peaceful, dreamy and soothing moment being the sound of the choir singing in the background of "I Believe In You". Nothing moves quickly on this album, nor should it, because it's an album that's there to lull you to sleep, or to keep you warm and comfortable while you take refuge from the heat of the summer just ended, and from the cold outside.

Have I sold you? I hope so. Go and buy "Spirit of Eden", light a fireplace, put the record on (yes, it should be a record, although the actual fireplace could be enough) and enjoy the winter. You won't regret it.

That's what I'm planning on doing - just, sadly, without the fireplace.