Why don’t I ever play my favourite albums?

It’s our Deserted Island Records event with David Oliver tomorrow evening, Wednesday 30 January at 7.30 pm, where you can find out all about the eight records that make David tick. But how does our blogger Steve feel about the records that would be his choice?

For me, the jury is still out on Lauren Laverne as the fill-in presenter of Desert Island Discs. Yes, she’s good and she hasn’t been doing it long but over the years I’ve grown fond of Kirsty Young’s gently inquisitive ways. Ms Laverne is altogether more lively and an unknown quantity, so it’s with some trepidation that I have to tell her I will be revising my selection of eight tracks yet again.

This will, of course, only affect tracks Six to Eight – the songs from recent years, when the full significance of various life events has not been fixed in time and space. Number Eight is especially difficult to pin down because what seems important now will be viewed differently after a couple of years. And the years are mounting up as I wait for my invitation to meet Lauren/Kirsty.

It occurred to me that my first five selections have been fixed for a long time. I know them well, they are inextricably bound up with life’s great moments and I never reconsider their place. Come to think of it, I rarely – if ever – actually listen to them or the albums they come from.

This is odd. This music is so important to me that I’m willing to go on national radio and have an emotional breakdown as I recount (well-rehearsed) anecdotes about how it changed my life. But I can’t remember when I last listened to it. Novelty is a factor: I have an insatiable appetite for new (or new to me) music but the appeal is often transient and there’s little that bears comparison with older material. What is it about tracks One to Five? If I never want to listen to them, are they still music to me?

– Steve C

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