Filed under: Slice Of Soul
Two things have struck me about my blogging habits of late. First of all, I’ve clearly been experiencing the notorious slump that seems to plague most people who spend untold hours emptying their thoughts for public consumption. Thankfully, this phase seems to now be coming to a close (three posts in four days: you’re kidding me right?!). Secondly, I seem to have been making relatively constant reference to the weather, a distinctly British trait that has caused me both joy and anguish since the spring season supposedly kicked in. The problem with Blighty is that after months of sustained darkness and rain any small glimpse of sunshine has you reaching for shorts, t-shirt and exclamations that the summer has arrived, only to be brought crashing down after 72 hours or so as the cloud recovers and the grey drizzle kicks in once again. Don’t get me wrong though, we wouldn’t have it any other way: take away a Brit’s right to a good moan and you’re essentially killing one of the cornerstones of our national identity.
Such has been the case over the last five or six days, with gleaming sunshine and warm air now stepping aside and letting the rain gods take control once again. Bollocks. However, one positive thing that came out of this brief spell of sun-drenched happiness was a rediscovery of the fantastic ‘There’s Nothing Like This’, which as far as I can tell is the only good song that British artist Omar ever put together (let me advise you not to get the album of the same name). The song is not only a great summer-infused cut in itself, but the back story behind the track is equally as pleasing. Having woken up on a sunny morning, Omar laid down the instrumental for the track before popping out to get himself some lunch. Suitably relaxed post-meal he laid down the lyrics. One sunny day + fleeting musical genius + full belly = summer anthem. Ah, if only things were always this easy.
So when the sun shines where you are make sure you indulge in this delicious slice of early ’90s British soul. In typical fashion I’m also going to blame the weather for Omar’s ephemeral musical greatness: my guess is that as he rolled out of bed the following day, the sky had returned to a dull grey. God I love hate like this country.