It was 2005, and I had just started going out with a girl who was way out of my league. I called on an old trick - the mixtape. Having been a music nerd all my life, I decided I could use some help from Miles Davis, Cinematic Orchestra, Stereolab and more to woo her. Making the perfect mixtape is an art form. You have to start strong, but you don't want to cram all the best bits into the first 10 minutes. I needed to show myself as a man of the world - some more obscure choices, a bit of jazz. I sequenced them so they all flowed together nicely, and all this was done in an era where I had to rip the tracks from CDs. And in a final touch, I had to put in a track from a band that were playing very shortly - in this case, The Go! Team! - so I could invite her to the gig.
After spending days shuffling the order, I called the mix "M" after her first name. I'm glad to say it worked. We went to the Go! Team gig the following week, and there followed an M2, M3, M4 and many many more. The CD still exists, and amazingly, still plays. We've been married for 16 years now, and I'm still making mixtapes (well, Spotify playlists) for her.
I grew up in a religious household where listening to music was frowned upon. But in my grandmother's home there was an old tape player with a built-in radio and one day, I discovered a blank cassette. I began recording the Top 40 chart shows, carefully pressing stop every time the presenter spoke or an ad played. Suddenly, I had access to music on repeat, something I'd never had before - and it transformed my world. I remember my tape included Coolio - Gangsta's Paradise (I was so struck by the storytelling in a rap tune); Stereophonics - Local Boy in the Photograph (being from Cardiff, discovering a band from Wales made it feel closer to home); and Beastie Boys - Intergalactic (I remember rewinding this endlessly, trying to memorise every line).
Years later, I entered the music industry professionally. That early habit of curating, editing, and deeply listening became the foundation of my career. What started as a quiet act of rebellion turned into a lifelong vocation and a powerful reminder that music always finds a way to reach you, even when it's not allowed.
In 1995 I lived on the Isle of Mull. One evening, feeling lonely, I compiled a compilation tape on my portable CD player - a TDK D90- for my sister's 30th birthday. We were always making them with our friends in those days, and many are now sadly lost in the mists of time. The excitement of finding a new band and recording them for your mates to enjoy was a uniquely youthful phenomenon.
This tape consisted of a mix of indie classics and was labeled Side A: "Do you remember kipper ties?" and Side B "Did you wear one?" as a sarcastic ode to my very old 30-year-old sister (I was a mere 24). The cut and paste cover features the boys from The Sweeney and George and Mildred. My sister never kept anything; she was a minimalist and constantly threw away unwanted stuff and clutter. She died in 2020, and it broke my heart to find that of all things, she had kept this silly tape made for her by her little sis. I will keep it for ever.
I was privileged in the early 90s to stumble across a now legendary Edinburgh club called Pure. The then DJ Twitch, now JD Twitch, Keith McIvor, of Optimo fame, was one of the DJs. He lived in Glasgow like me and I was soon giving him regular lifts to and from the club. He made me a mix tape for the car called the "Maggie mix".
Now long lost, it soundtracked those journeys. It was a wonderful time and life changing for me and a lot of other people hearing the latest dance music in a small and very close knit community of regulars. Sadly, as many people will know, Keith was recently diagnosed with a terminal brain tumour. Many have expressed how much his music has meant to their lives; I was one of the very lucky ones to hear him early in his career, and the musical education I received at Pure will stay with me for ever.
About a month after meeting Joe and being absolutely smitten, my birthday arrived. Joe made me a mixtape. I had heard his legendary mixtapes before, with snippets of songs or spoken word in between whole songs that seemed to move seamlessly as if they had been written to be played together. But my birthday mixtape, “Lots of Racket- Obscure, Obnoxious, Scratchy Toons”, sealed the deal for me - not only were our musical tastes compatible, but he had been listening to me! Some really important songs I had mentioned (The Flying Lizards) were there along with what would become fast favourites from lots of genres and eras.
It was, and is, my favourite mix ever. Whenever I hear a song from that mix out in the wild, I immediately start the next song or snippet in my head when it ends. And Joe? He lasted too. We’ve been together since that early June of 1992, have three children, and probably a hundred more fantastic mixtapes.
My grandmother fell ill and moved in with my parents, so I as a fresher at University College Dublin moved into her house, whereupon we had a party that lasted three years. The main soundtrack to that was a mixtape I made named "sober Dan", after the longsuffering nextdoor neighbour. The tape was cobbled together from various radio programmes, mainly a pirate indie station in Dublin, Dave Fanning on 2FM and of course Peel. The tracks were quite varied, including: Livin' On - 13th Floor Elevators; Take the Skinheads Bowling - Camper van Beethoven; Orange and Red - Guernica; Emotional Slaughter - Black Uhuru; TV Party - Black Flag; Hey! Little Child - Stars Of Heaven; Try a Little Sunshine - The Factory.
I have spent the last 40 years tracking these down on vinyl. My latest find was the hard to get cover of Hey! Little Child (this version was from a live LP recorded in the wonderful Underground, played by the brilliant Stars of Heaven). I'm just left with Try a Little Sunshine by The Factory, which is extremely rare and expensive. As for what our neighbour Dan thought of our student antics? At my grandmother's funeral, my mother asked him if we were a right nuisance, to which he replied, "lovely neighbours, they always mowed my lawn". Thank you Dan, and my mixtape will always be in memory of you.
Mix tapes were a whole love language, between crushes and friends. Playlists can't really compare to having something tangible and hand-decorated that had to be painstakingly made. I still have many of mine, and a matching trove of old Walkmans that rode the Greyhound and Amtrak with me up and down the state and are ready to serve me again if ever called upon.
For this mix tape, I have to give credit where credit is due. It was made by a high school boyfriend. As you can see (above), it's stacked full of pure 90s gold. With this one tape he set me up very well for my college years and a lifetime of listening.