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Caves and water sounds

There is a small cave, or rather tunnel, below me on these rocks which is quite interesting acoustically . You can swim right through it and the sound of the waves changes completely as you do so, from a sharp clarity with the treble accentuated to the deep bassiness and echoing sounds in the tunnel itself and then back to the accentuated treble. Sometimes from above you will hear deep booming noises that travel, seemingly right through the rocks.

Madrileno in the Med

A madrileno man that I briefly met yesterday called Pedro had a pretty good job. For six months of each year he forms part of a small crew of three who take people around the Balearic islands in a 16metre yacht for periods of 2 to 3 weeks at a time. What a life! To live in Madrid and spend the summer in the Med. I confess to feeling a little jealous.

June 13th evening

Just woken after a snooze feeling quite tired this evening for no obvious reason except that sunbathing acytually uses up a surprising amount of energy and Ive been lifting weights a lot since arriving.Its not unpleasant, more just enough to know its been happening. Doing another set of 30 now before making some dinner. Its still quite light outside even though its 9.45 now , its perfectly clear and still and just 21C, chilly for here. Goodness knows how Im going to adapt to the English summer again.

Remembering Sangre Caliente, Sangre Frio

Suddently now getting short flashbacks of making the film and all the people on board with it who helped . I feel sad I´ve lost touch with most now. I don´t think anyone was very happy it did not get properly completed, as of course was I. It would of been good to shoot scenes here if I had know about the apartments then. I´m surprised we didn´t use the cove here for shots but perhaps i didn´t know of it them. Although taking all the gear down the steep path to it would have been no fun. As it was, it was bad enough having to cart all the gear down to Es Cavallet, without being able to get a car down there. I am glad that I tried to make it and sad that it stopped me making films as it did. All these thoughts make me want to go back and try and get the ”Netplay” idea of the ground again (Edit: I can´t recall this at all today). But somehow in London I feel stifled creatively. It is as though someone has put a large blanket around me and is stopping me casting it aside, in case i get hurt. Thinking about it, that person can only be me.

Not so mundane matters

Now though i feel very much alive and happy, when i come here its remarkable what just five days can do. I feel recharged, invigorated . It is a shame that I have to go back to London again to discharge it all. Though, all being well, I´ll return here fairly soon, with the next few months. I was going to make a list of the clothes I brought here with me, as opposed to those I actually wore whilst being here. They were

White jeans shorts cut off

Two tight t shirts , one red and one white.

Brown trousers

Blue track suit top

Short sleeve patterned shirt

Red shorts

Grey flannel trunks, white Calvin K pants x 2

Red acetate shirt

Black millenium top

Black boots

Brown suede boots

And that was it for a weeks stay.

The travel kettle was very useful, as no apartments have kettles in Spain, they are not used much at all in fact, as was the portable CD player. A radio would have been good but not essential.

Wednesday 14th June mid morning

Up fairly late after a late night again, to bed at 4.30am. Not feeling 100% today, a bit sniffy and a little sunburnt as well. So Im taking it easy.

Final Squaddie update

They are back and planting little b ushes and flowering plants today. So not exactly backbreaking work today. They are unlikely to go sans tops with such easy work as it looks a bit soft.Who gets hot planting flowers out? Id have them slogging over the soil, pickaxes in hand again, then trooping down to the beach to cool off at the end of the day, stripping off naked as they go into the sea. Suffice to say this has not happened as yet and I dont think it will, although Ibizan life is full of surprises.

Back on the ramparts, last night

I finally got to meet a real Ibizencan last night up, on the Ramparts. His name was Jose and he was born on Calle Aragon , living here until he was 17 and then going to find work in Barcelona. Since then he has been back for his holidays and I suppose to see his family, assuming they too are still here, he didn´t say and I forgot to ask. He is now back for 6 months from April to October working as a booking agent for a travel agents in Figueretas. We had quite a long chat in fact, as I had many questions I wanted to ask about growing up here in the sixties. His English wasn´t that good, and my spanish is still minimal. He did speak fluent french and german though. So after a short cuddle he went home as did I getting back by 4am, as I mentioned earlier.

On Ibizan orgies

It is odd how group sexual encounters develop on the Ramparts. How they form, coalesce and split up. Like threesomes it seems that you can add one more body to the pile up and it all disintegrates into a few stragglers.

I was watching one last night but not participating there. It was curious to me to note that it started with just two men then incrementally added a little knot of people, six I think, in a circle. Then I could see more people from a distance looking and as these things always do, like in crowds, people want to at least see what is going on and often, join in. But I already knew by doing that, essentially they would destroy it or finish it . Which of course is what happened. After about three more people joined in it was already disbanding into smaller ´break off ´groups and then people slowly drifted away. About five seems to be best for this type of group sex. I will leave you to imagine the roles for such a group. Or equally perhaps to dismiss the notion with a shudder!

An eyesore

The biggest eyesore here by far has to be the Playa den Bossa hotel, which is an appalling twenty story concrete monstrosity, pretty much devoid of any redeeming architectural features. It sticks out like a sore thumb and why it was given planning permission it is hard to say but you have to think that there was some kind of underhand deal going on somewhere. It probably happened in the boom of the first tourist era of the seventies, when Ibiza was more desperate to promote itself, by encouraging tourism on the island. Did they know what they were hoping for? As I´ve already mentioned, many young Ibizans in that era were leaving the island in order to find work in larger cities like Valencia and Barcelona, Madrid, the capital, of course as well. Such building work providing local young men with the work opportunity to stay here , while women were then employed as chambermaids, cooks, tourism advisers , reps and so on. It is easy to be judgemental but I didn´t live here when I was young. Luckily den Bossa playa and resort is in the German package holiday area and no-one else need go there. I can nevertheless imagine the full horror.

Wednesday June 14th mid evening

So I am almost at the end of this particular Ibizencan sojourn. A beautiful end to the day, clear skies, very warm, it is still 26C and calm seas. Puig des Molines is a beautiful place to watch the sunset. I am almost thinking about being back here already , I hope others can come with me then in August. I´ll be disappointed if they cant come.

Now all that remains is for me to pack my bags and head towards the airport around 2am for an early morning flight back into London. Always a sad occasion , particularly when you´re back in the airport queue, with all the other returning Brits as well.

It almost seems longer than a week , yet the time has also gone very quickly. although I suppose in all honesty I have not accomplished anything special, it feels like much has happened though nevertheless. Considering i only began to write this account four days ago a lot has been added. And hopefully it will serve to remind me of what was going on in my head in this short time frame. Looking back much appears to be about sex for some reason but actually I´m not sure if that´s a fair or apt summary overall. Nevertheless equally we didn´t call our safer sex trilogy Sex Love and Life without some reason. There are a few things that happened that I have not covered at all. All in all its been an enjoyable week and I feel it was time enjoyable well spent. I gave my weights back to the apartmentos owner Antonio to store until next time in August. I cannot help but feel that many of the problems that I have in London wouldn´t happen here though. The sun is finally disappearing behind the hills west of the airport and so this is adios Ibiza for the moment.

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On to An Ibizan Diary September 1995 (an ongoing work)

Ashes to Ashes

In a moment of gloriously morbid introspection earlier I decided that when I die I´d like my ashes scattered from the top of the Puig des Molines (the rocks in front of the apartments) into the ocean, 200 feet below. All entirely fitting on the site of a Roman Necropilis of course.

Sunday June 11, very late

I sat here resisting the urge to go out on the town again tonight . I think it´s important not to overdue things here and burn out, god knows I´ve seen plenty of people do it. You just go home feeling tired and listless. Not a good look, not a great feeling.

Eye- eye

Ummm. I forgot to add earlier, I got a good reaction from the Spanish barman at Anfora last night as well. When he first saw me, he said something I couldn´t make out but I took to be at least generally complimentary, as he seemed to be smiling when he said it (which was probably ´you, you old tart, back here again are you? in Spanish´)

But the second time I bought a drink he spoke to me directly and I thought he said ´you´re really ugly´. And as he didn´t smile particularly, I thought ´god you´ve changed your tune haven´t you´. But I wasn´t particularly upset as I was in too good a mood by that time. The third time I got a drink (yes, I know, it was always him serving me..) when he gave me my change he closed his fist around it such that I had to squeeze his hand open to get it out of him , definitely flirtatious behaviour. So I think the second time he actually said ´your really lovely´. I think he was trying to get me to go to the toilet cubicle but I didn´t catch on. Sometime I don´t see stuff when it just stares me in the face, winking.

Cute Spanish men

Perhaps fortuitously, behind the apartments in the valley beneath the Dalt Vila´s imposing Cathedral is a military apartment hotel and at the moment they are building a swimming pool and tennis courts, though they are onto the landscaping part now. This necessitates a lot of earth and sand being moved and guess who is on hand to do all the dirty work?

Yes, half a dozen lads, half in combat uniforms and boots. I guess they are doing military service . However, most of the time they are pretty lazy and sit around doing very little it, seems to me, possibly as they seem to be more or less unsupervised. A little more discipline could be installed by someone, in the ranks, I think. I will report back on any further action.

London from a distance

Without wanting to sound too mardy about it, I find it more and more difficult to say what exactly makes me want to stay in London, after being somewhere like this. Obviously there´s the job, boyfriend, house etc. Beyond that I am struggling . Although it is tempting to say for the culture, nightlife and wonderful gay ghettos we have built, I´m not sure that they really make up for the downside of being in a large city, the pollution, noise , crime, space deprivation and so on. I apologised to friends for coming away to Ibiza again before because I felt I needed to escape but having been here now a few days I feel less apologetic as it is clearly so obviously better for me , a better place to be in environmentally and I think spiritually. There´s nothing wrong with escaping but you understand you have to find ways to survive in your chosen home as well, hence the idea of doing some counselling that will help me with my mood swings at home. I do not get them here in the same way.

Waves of sound are waves of sleep

One of the things I particularly like about being close to the sea is the sound of water constantly moving in one way or another, and being depending on a calm or rough sea – it´s so relaxing to lie in bed at night and let yourself drift off, waves in your head, to sleep. And to wake up in the morning is inherently refreshing as well. Better than the neighbours shouting next door any day.

Tuesday June 13th early

Woke to find the sun shining , the sea sparkling outside, and with not a breathe of wind to stir the glassy surface.

Tuesday June 13th noon

Looking back at the pages Ive written so far in this diary you would be forgiven for thinking that Ibiza was all about getting your rocks off. Well the reality is for some I suppose it is, that and clubbing each night. But the island is what you make it , what you want it to be. You could have a fulfilling time here exploring the campo, the countryside, the little coves and all the archaeological sites. Alternatively, it can be a beach holiday staying in all evening playing games or whatever, going out for meals from time to time.

But the knack I think, is to do what you want to do here and enjoy it without getting too fixated by thinking that´s all there is to the island. It annoys me a little when people say its all just sex and clubbing.Surely that is like saying the same about London, its there but there are so many other things.

The squaddies saga continues..

Oh yes, one thing I forgot to mention about the squaddies ( I will call them that for the sake of a better description) is that the most assertive one who has his top off as often as possible had the endearing habit of rubbing his chest and stomach semi absent mindedly much of the time. To me its an obviously sexualised gesture and I´m not sure how he gets away with it . Whatever the reason it´s extremely becoming.

More fascination as one decided to have a piss on site in full view of all. I could clearly see it arching out in a golden stream . I think maybe Spanish men are less bashful about these things than the repressed Brits are.

June 13th mid afternoon; My thanks to the Military

No, this isnt a return to the previous topic. Id just been speaking to a man called Neil , in one of the top apartments. Incredibly he has been coming here since 1970 when they were built evidently, around 25 years ago. He has seen through all the gossip and turmpoil that has enabled the place to remain relatively unspoilt when all around has been built apon. Evidently it is basically dowm to the military. Evidently they own most of the wild land behind the apartments hence why it has never been built apon in that time period. So now I have two good reasons to be grateful to the Spanish Army it seems.

He also told me that a plan to build on the rocks in front of the apartments , on the Puig des Molines, where I am lying right now was thwarted some years ago by the residents here as they said the land was unsafe due to the rock stratification there. After an inspection the government officials agreed with them. Hence Apartmentos Rosello, survive with their views unobstructed to the back and the front (And as a footnote I am pleased to report that three decades later, remarkably, it remains empty)

On to An Ibizan diary June 1995 part 3

Back

Apartmentos Rosello, nr Ibiza Ciudad,  Saturday June 10th 1995

I´m lying on the flat rocks above, looking down at the cove by the apartments. It is warm but not too much so, with a gentle breeze meandering its way across the sea.

Three´s company but four´s a crowd..

Why is it that when you´re having a cruise around and you happen to decide to accompany two men already inflagrante then they´ll often happily let another join in but once a fourth participant gets involved, well that´s the end of the fun and games. The two, (inflagrante or otherwise), will simply stalk away into the night, as if to say three´s company but four, that really IS a crowd, no thankyou!

There´s much more to Ibiza than meets the eye. As anyone who knows me well enough will surely attest, I do not come to the island for the sex that goes on here, (and this is in a big way). However, it has to be said, that as a gay man there are so many temptations on offer it is sometimes very hard to resist or desist.

Hence, I found myself again drifting up towards the infamous Ramparts in the Dalt Vila of Ibiza old town last night at 3.30am after leaving the gay club Anfora. I wandered around for a while dipping my toe in the water but without feeling an inclination to get really wet. But then, out of the blue , or black I should more accurately say, two guys started to make advances on each other and I can see they won´t mind too much if I add my twopenny worth to the feast.

And feast it indeed is. It soon becomes clear to me (and them presumably) that when clothes have been removed that each is built like a greek god. They proceed to get stuck in, in no uncertain terms. I´m always, to be quite honest, slightly overawed in the presence of beauty, so I sort of lend a hand when it was needed . It´s always rather marvelous to see two guys like that get so off on each other . Perhaps those memories provide for some of the horniest recollections , when you feel you are more of a spectator to some great ritual, able to sit back and watch two masters at work.

Groups or individuality

And now I idly find myself wondering how many times I´ve been here. I`ve lost count (actually I never started). But I suppose it must be a few dozen . Probably six months at least in all. Time well spent.

I can never decide if I like to be here in a group, with one other or all by myself. They all have things to recommend them but somehow I find being alone isn´t quite as good as sharing the place with others. I can´t think of any first timer I´ve been here with who hasn´t enjoyed the place more than they had expected too. It is i think important to Ibiza manage though otherwise like all rich things a week here can leave you feeling overfull and a little bit queasy.

Anfora and it´s changing face (and the changing face of mid nineties clubbing)

So yes. it was quite a good night at the gay club Anfora last night but surprisingly not an especially sexual one. I say surprisingly, as for years and years Anfora used to be a club mainly supposed on a predilection for sex, indeed the backroom at Anfora was one of the holidays dirty highlights, to be savoured. The music back then was Europap and Spanish disco hits, the dancefloor a bit tiresome and the air conditioning on full ´chill to the bone´. Now it´s another world with the DJ playing a voracious garagey house mix that really has the place moving, fierce I think is an appropriate word. And when the music takes control.. well. All those slightly tacky epithets that people use but it is seemingly a truism now here that sex takes second place when the music is that good. The natural high, (even sans stimulants), is better than sex and you end up feeling you´re having it off with the whole club anyway.  So all in all, yes I was quite pleasantly surprised by Anfora last night. No sex but very surely a fierce time was had by many of us there.(Note: Remarkably the club, Anfora, only finally closed in 2016, some twenty years later).

Lets hear it for the Brit boys

And one thing I´ve noticed before , let´s say in the last year here, is how the British men seemingly unwittingly to attract me more than they used too, when I´m here in Ibiza. Half a decade ago they used to be the ones you would try to avoid, the ones rushing onto the dancefloor to twirl with Kylie or Madonna, or Brummy lads with thick accents at the bar, moaning about the price of drinks or tittering over what their best mate was or wasn´t doing in the darkroom. That´s all changed. Now it´s others who dance to the hits and titter with friends. Suddenly Brit boys have all the looks, the attitude and frankly look damn sexy with their boots, tight T´s and combat pants . They look like they are having a good time, they don´t bitch and they´ll be drinking water. So what´s happened, whats changed? Well ´E´ arrived obviously. And maybe I´m just older and the young things today get off on different things than they used to in the late eighties. But no, I think there is more. It`s maybe to do with a kind of confidence we all have in ourselves now. No need to feel we don´t belong. The attitude now is accept all and be done with it. No bitchin necessary.

And I for one find that a encouraging and sexy sign.

Sunday June 11 1200

In the apartment after a late breakfast. Went to Anfora again last night around 2am and again the music was good. An older german crowd was soon replaced by a more English and local crowd with a few trannies thrown in for good measure by 3am.

But after a while pilless, I left and decided a little diversion before returning to my casa was in order. I went to the back of the Ramparts , which is such a magnificent setting for cruising , very majestic with its ancient, dark bulwarks looming up over and above you. With the moon full last night, it was almost like a fairy tale set. Anyway who should come along after a while but Mr Bigchest and this time I got the full attention. He was simply put big all over with a chest you could lose yourself on. With a great arse he too was in fact, basically  a god. And though when he came, he went, well suffice to say I loved it.

Sunday June 11, a little later

I have been pondering, in the last hour, how to pace myself here. It is a case of letting the phases take control.. and there are I think five phases of an Ibizan sojourn (or mine at least).

Phase 1. The winding down phase . So stressed out all you want to do is lie on a beach or rock and go ´aaahh`

Phase 2 The Sexual phase . The sudden sight of all the available and willing hot horny flesh is overwhelming and a day or two of frenetically sexual activity follows.

Phase 3 The chill out and party phase . As the rythym takes hold the party feeling gets going and then its party, chill, party, chill,party etc..

Phase 4 Deep relaxation. Time to go for a few long walks and sit and contemplate the current meaning of life. 

Phase 5 The almost time to go panic. The last days approach and go fast and its make the most of everything time. Then its off in the taxi to the airport and back to being a Brit again.

Always back to being a Brit again. Maybe that´s ok though?

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On to An Ibizan diary June 1995 part 2

I’d really like this beautiful, reflective poem by Clare Harner read out at my funeral..

About Clare Harner

Kansas native Clare Harner (1909–1977) first published “Immortality” in the December 1934 issue of The Gypsy poetry magazine. It was written shortly after the sudden death of her brother. Harner’s poem quickly gained traction as a eulogy and was read at funerals in Kansas and Missouri.

The poem however is not without its mysteries. This, her most famous poem is often attributed to anonymous or incorrect sources,   The most notable claimant being Mary Elizabeth Frye (1905–2004), who often handed out xeroxed copies of the poem, with her name attached. In her obituary, she asserted that her authorship was “undisputed” . However, recent research has affirmed that Clare Harner was indeed the original writer of the piece. An alternative version of the poem is also published, and with its reference to the ”soft stars at night”, I personally prefer it.

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Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there., I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn’s rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there, I did not die.”

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We are sometimes told (and perhaps more often around this particular time of the year), that popular culture is not a political manifesto. And yes, it´s true that its often very hard to discern on the surface what is political about love songs, about ballads, about novelty numbers. And yet one of the most political appointments on the planet, is currently making it his duty to utilise popular culture in his everyday pronouncements. I refer of course to the American President Donald Trump. He has long understood that his message, if it is to be believed, benefits from having a populist seal of approval. And yet popular culture at its broadest level is notoriously fickle and prone to abrupt changes. What is a la mode in one season is strictly outre the next. This may yet prove to be his real undoing.

And yet at a level removed from this is the idea that popular culture broadly represents the beliefs, the bete noirs of a entire generation, western or otherwise. Actually, particularly  now as other cultures become more important on a world view. Does popular culture shape our beliefs or do our beliefs shape popular culture? Discuss….

And so, when someone asserts that the Eurovision song contest should be about the song, the talent, the concept, I have always chuckled inwardly and sometimes outwardly, in the right company. I think it has always been the case that the Eurovision contest has been at the forefront of engaging itself with current popular political culture. Simply by its act of representing a country per se, it is shaped by that countries beliefs, creeds and its motivations. We can ascertain something of a country by what it chooses to represent itself with year on year, or in some cases what is chosen for it.

There´s no better case in point than this years sixty ninth Eurovision, which was shaped , underpinned perhaps, by a complex web of beliefs, pressures and -let´s face it- prejudices. For some, acting upon those can be a relatively simple matter, for others it may be very complex. We see people in their countries voting for neighbours, people in countries voting for a concept, and in some cases countries voting as a defence mechanism. In recent years Ukraine has benefited from a wave of popular Eurovision support, partly encapsulated by its song choices, against the idea of an oppressor. In this case Russia. The fact it was less so this year should be something of a warning I suspect. To some extent this is played out right across the voting patterns of the population of Europe as a whole. 

However, last night at the 69th Eurovision contest this complex pattern was played out right to the very wire. At the final moment Austria´s Johannes Pietsch, (otherwise known as simply JJ) just triumphed over Israel´s singer Yuval Raphael, by scoring 79 more points . She was a survivor of that grisly day in October in Israel in 2023 and lay under a pile of dead bodies for hours, pretending to be dead, simply to survive, clearly a very traumatic experience. Both songs were profoundly political in different ways, the song she sings, New Day will rise ,a monument to hope (or perhaps, say some, a thinly veiled reference to the representation of its battle to expedite a ´just revenge’ for the October massacre and finally silence the organisation that is Hamas and some would argue, Gaza as a Palestinian homeplace itself). JJ, a 24 year old who is half Austrian, half Filipino and who defines as queer, sang Wasted Love about the body politic, the concept of wasted love, the intensity of being in love with someone who does not love you back. Both were songs born of pain. Perhaps JJ´s was the easier one to understand, in that I suspect it has a wider credence for anyone of any sexuality who has been in that situation. Wisely I think, JJ has not said who exactly it is about, male, female or intersex.  Undoubtedly both were striking visually in their presentation, both felt exceptionally strongly about their subject. And both have articulated their passion for the themes strongly.

It is however, in my personal opinion, very difficult to take the political out of both songs, framed as it was as a central narrative to their structure. It is also the case, that many feel Israel should not be participating at the moment in the Eurovision contest, due to its ongoing conflicts in the Middle East and the sanctions now officially placed on the state of Israel by independent jurisdiction. The producers of Eurovision have also faced accusations of having ´double standards´ in relation to the fact that they are currently banning Russia but not Israel from participation. Also, it was revealed on Saturday night by the regular BBC host for the competition, Graham Norton, that during the Israeli song booing from the live audience was replaced by a pre recorded soundtrack only of cheering. This is a clearly a manipulation of the ´Eurovision reality´. Also, of note is that the key sponsor Moroccan Oil is an large Israeli company and this has also drawn criticism. Also problematic, is the fact that the Israeli government last year was shown to have spent millions of shekels promoting the song, as it worked to represent a stronger belief in the Israel nation and its actions and there is widespread evidence that they did the same this year. (They have also allocated at least 150 million dollars in 2025 to change public opinion about the Gaza bombings). So, we should perhaps ask ourselves if this is indeed an acceptable practice. For many though, I think it is fair to say that the real problem is that Israel´s entry in the competition represents  symbolically the corruption of Netanyahu’s government, and arguably putting someone in who sings about the October event was somewhat provocative, although many will argue, not entirely wrong. There are clearly strong feelings about her entry and whether it was right or wrong to highlight this event but perhaps they more widely relate to the promotion of the song and country by what many see as a corrupt Israeli government.

If Israel had won we are told, many countries would have been forced to question their own entry next year, and hence people have hailed JJ’s win as having ‘’saved Eurovision’’. Possibly, although the counter argument is that it might have more clearly delineated the whole issue within popular culture and if it ended it, well… it ended it. 

I suspect JJ´s song had a wide resonance for people, who perhaps saw him as an underdog  they could root for. There is no getting away from the fact that he had a boyish ´cuteness` appeal to some too. The juxtaposition of these complex emotive issues at the end was strong for me, and I suspect for many others too. Notions of being able to live a prejudice free life as you might wish, the idea of acceptance, the representation of hurt, of pain, of suffering, of hope were there in both songs. But the idea of manipulating popular culture for political purposes has for me tainted the Israeli song, as surely as it taints the current American president and his government in its own manipulation, by blurring the distinctions between truth and falsehood.  For me Israel crossed that line in its actions, in the same way as Trump has with his ´Truth Social´ nonsense.

For me also however, writing this piece has forced me to confront the reality of the contestants lived experience more strongly. The problem is if we all live to create and expound our own individual reality, who do we allow to say what is our own truth and what is untruth? And if we allow others to repurpose our own realities and re-present them as part of the collective notion of truth, are they valid anymore? In Israel at present for example, it seems to be Netanyahu´s government shaping the truth. When you see a government creating its own nations truth, this almost always leads to tears I´ve found. When your government purports to create ´the truth´ well this to me is the problematic.

Equally here, for me, JJ simply sung about his own truth and how he felt about his truth and in doing so allowed us to experience his pain. So perhaps of both, JJ had the simpler job here, as it is far less difficult a subject to engage with. In recent interviews he has said that he learnt from the experience. Unrequited love allows us to experience and process the complexities and hurt of rejection, makes us understand we cannot always have what we desire and leaves us humbler, wiser beings as a result. And that, I have concluded with much hindsight, is probably no bad thing, as we go forward in our life journey. If it was only Yuval Raphael herself who had skin in the game I´d genuinely feel sorry for her final second place but damn, she was carrying Israel on her back as well and as ever, the political song contest got in the way.

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Back to Almerian Writers group site index

Other writing: index

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Part 2

That ‘c’ word: Cruising. I’ve hesitated to bring this up before, as it has so many cliches attached to it and so many opinions. For some, it’s entirely natural thing to do (both with same sex and mixed sex partners, (though it’s more usually called the delightfully downmarket term ‘dogging’ when heterosexuals are having sex en masse al fresco). For many, even quite a lot of gay men, it’s an activity that they cannot possibly fathom how anyone would or could consider doing. There are some similarities to the feelings people have on cottaging. On Switchboard we were not allowed to give out cruising locations, this having more to do with the legal implications of outdoor sexual activity rather than some (but certainly not all) members distaste for it. As I’ve mentioned it did come up as a subject in conversations on the phonelines there. If pushed on the subject, I usually did not pretend ‘it didn’t happen’ but mentioned the reasons why people needed to be careful if engaging in such activity. And certainly in some places it was a dangerous or risky thing to do, for a variety of reasons.  

For myself? Well for years, decades even I didn’t venture onto the Heath to cruise (or anywhere else come to that, the location I mentioned earlier after Traffic spilled out on the Caledonian Rd was about the first time I’d ventured into that world), indeed for many years I didn’t know even where to go, as I would venture up there to the Heath for a simple walk and see nothing remotely salacious going on. Then one day I realised the Heath has many different areas and different ‘sides’ to it as well, it is used for very many purposes by different groups of people. It started by recognising that many gay men went swimming in the mens’ bathing pond on the East Heath. In summer, on a good day, the paddock outside would be nose to tail with men on their own, in couples or groups having picnics, sunbathing, generally taking the air. It was all pretty obvious. For some time having found that I assumed that was it, what I’d heard all about. Oh, I was so very, very wrong.

One day I realised, looking more carefully at the London A-Z map, that there was a whole area I had never even visited, in the decade I’d been going up to the Health, simply for  recreation. In fact, for a time there were two separate areas that were cruised by men on the Heath, one on the east side, close to a large house and overgrown tennis courts off the main road, which was often quite busy in an afternoon and early evening. But when the house was renovated and restored and a lot of the undergrowth and overgrown vegetation chopped back, around the mid nineties, this mostly ceased.  This was sometimes known as the ‘second secret garden’ (for reasons I’ll now divulge).

There was another area completely, on the west side of Hampstead Heath, consisting of an overgrown old hospital with a large pergola, ornamental pools and other ornamentation. This area was also very popular at one stage but again it was renovated by the council in the late 90’s, who actually made a very good job of it. It’s really worth a trip up to the Heath to see it alone.. it’s called the ‘Hill Garden’ and is basically a raised walkway, with many mature vines and roses, set amidst some wonderfully dramatic gardens and ponds.

I discovered, upon browsing a little, that it actually has quite a history attached to it. In 1904  Lord Leverhulme, who was both a rather wealthy philanthropist and a great lover of landscape gardening, purchased a large house built in 1895, on the West Heath called ‘The Hill’. He bought further land attached to it in the following few years and landscaped it with the pergola; extending it further in 1911 and 1925. He held extravagant Edwardian garden parties with friends, able to spend long summer evenings there in what became quite spectacular gardens. However, it fell into a decline with no one to care for it after his death in 1925. It was then bought and renamed Inverforth House by Andrew Weir, alias Baron Inverforth and then on his death it became a Orthopaedic Society Hospital from 1956 but little was done after this, to maintain the pergola area, although the gardens in the front and back of the house facade were maintained. It became overgrown and disused, and the hospital itself closed in the mid eighties.

For many years it was possible to access the pergola walkway (and house grounds) from the part of Hampstead West Heath below it, however, and it became known by many as ‘the Secret Garden’ until the House was converted into luxury apartments in the mid 1990’s and the pergola area was bought by the City of London Corporation and (it must be said very beautifully) restored, for all to use, in the mid 1990’s. The house was grade II listed in 1988. For all intents and purposes, this was a very popular part of the ‘cruising ground’ at Hampstead for many years as a result, in the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s in particular. Not surprisingly, the Wikipedia entry online about the house and gardens makes absolutely no mention of its notoriety for this purpose.

It’s not something I’d done for years, after I finally moved away from London early in 2003, but looking online recently I was surprised to see quite a lot of information about cruising there. There was even a map showing various areas and activities. Well, we certainly didn’t have THAT in my day! One entry was factual and direct. Hampstead Heath, it said.

Hampstead Heath is one of the busiest and most popular cruising areas in London, if not the world. It is also the safest cruising ground of London. The Police knows what goes on and (sic) is happy to close their eyes as long as cruisers don’t annoy the locals too much. The locals also know it and don’t venture on there after dark. The cruising area is located just up the hill from Hampstead Tube Station, which is part of the Northern Line. The Main entrance onto the Gay West Heath is from behind the ‘Jack Straws Castle’.

I am not sure if it is all quite as laissez faire as the entry makes out but I guess it’s broadly accurate. Another article I  found online though, on the Vice UK website by James Greig, from June 2019 was very much more thoughtful, indeed, provocative. Why do people still go Cruising ‘it was headed. The byliner said ‘As cruising spots in London are under threat and apps have made casual hook-ups more convenient, what role does going outside in search of sex play in queer lives today?

So he had decided to go to the Heath and talk with men cruising up there about what they wanted and hoped to find, indeed why they still did it in the age of ‘Grindr’ et al (the gay dating app).

Men he met there explained that they found the adrenaline rush better when cruising outside and likened using apps like Grindr to ‘ordering a pizza’. You usually knew what flavours you liked and looked to order the same again. Outside, there was the possibility of experimenting with ‘different flavours’ and being surprised by your expanded boundaries (my analogy, not theirs). He wrote a thought provoking article about their honest responses and finished with this:

‘Cruising isn’t just a response to repression that will disappear if or when that repression does (as I discovered, you’d have to go back pretty far in history for cruising to considered a “necessity”). It offers a fundamentally different sexual experience, which many still find appealing. As George Michael told us 21 years ago, there’s no shame in being done with the sofa, the hall and kitchen table, and going outside in search of sex. In fact, it’s something we should celebrate‘.

This was interesting for me, as it rang true to experiences that I’d had there, decades before. Once I had started exploring this sub culture a little more I realised that it wasn’t seedy in a way I’d expected at all, in fact there were many occasions when it was quite a beautiful experience.

Whilst the place did have its unwritten rules, codes and conduct, that the men there generally understood, as on the canal towpath I had stumbled upon some years earlier, to go there was to experience an entirely transgressive culture: the signs, signals and senses displayed were completely different to those in the ‘other world’. Sometimes, going there was more akin to stepping through the looking glass, into another parallel world. Light and shade became important, thickets and glades had different uses, noises, sounds suddenly became charged, imbued with meaning. Language was less important, gestures held meaning,  the male gaze was imbued with many different perceptions of desire; there were couples, groups, observers, voyeurs, individuals. Of course there were people who just wanted to get there, get off and go.  All of the complexity of human desire was up there though, on display. Some would chat first , some would chat after, some wanted to meet up again, some wanted to have a relationship. In fact, a number of the most intense relationships I’ve ever had in my life started up there, on the Heath.       

The state of mind you went up there with also changed the experience. Feel too needy, look too desperate and people would back away. Feel calm, content, happy and people would want to share some of that with you.

Daytime sex and night time sex there were often quite different experiences. In the light you could make eye contact from a distance, sense what was wanted, what was on offer, clues were given and instincts followed. Night time sex up there was a different matter.  Often it was so dark you couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of you. Really you had no idea who you were walking into. But there were things; sounds: lightly trodden sticks or heavily trodden, heavy breathing or soft, smells: cigarette smoke, a lighter, after shave, sweat? Speed too .. standing silent, moving quickly ? Height.. taller or shorter? Just one person or a couple, or even a crowd? I used to find that dusk was a perfect time, an interim period where you often utilised both daytime & night time senses. Night time was generally more difficult though, sometimes you just had to trust your instincts.

One fairly clear, warm, summer, moonlit night in late June I recall vividly still, decades later. Moonlight was always useful, as it offered up a version of those daytime clues. This was a particularly bright moon too, enabling, when your eyes were completely accustomed, a depth of field far greater than on most nights. But there was still some cloud about, so every so often it would darken. It had been a gloriously hot day and the ground was still warm. The brick walls of the Hill Garden were still radiating back some heat from the days’ strong sun, as was the earth, even the bark on the trees.  It was still and quiet though, just some birds rustling in their nests, an owl hooting, maybe a vole or field mouse going about its business. You came down a hill from the main road by the pond at Jack Straws Castle, up from Hampstead Village, (a famous pub) then there was a well worn, probably old cart track, you could walk along, paths leading off it, trees overhanging it on either side.

As I came down the hill and forked right on the worn track, the moon went behind a thicker cloud and it suddenly went dark. I had started to walk along the track, reflecting that I could have been blindfolded but still know where to go, ahead I could see little but a few cigarettes being drawn on. Suddenly the full moon came out again and it seemed to grow very bright. I started, almost gasped, astonished for I could see the path ahead was lined with men standing there, watching, waiting. As I walked through them on the track I realised that there must be hundreds of men down here: all quiet, still. The thought went through my head that there must be more men up here on the Heath tonight than at ‘Heaven’, the big megadisco in London’s centre at Charing Cross. 

I could see there were many moonlit silhouettes: figures in all forms of dress, some of partial undress. The scene had an absolute beauty to it, which was many things: erotic, charged with sexual tension, and something primeval about it, even faintly dangerous, yet sublimely reassuring at the same time. All these strangers experiencing, sharing this intimate moment together, in the middle of the cosmopolitan metropolis of London. It was midnight, I was surrounded by strangers and yet I had never felt more intimacy with, never felt more .. well, love is the only word I can come up with that does it justice, for my fellow man. It was very, very special. And we all knew it was special: no one wanted to talk and break the spell. Truly, it was a midsummer night’s dream.  

And if it offered up so many possibilities? And how could it be wrong, when it had offered up an experience like Mike?  Mike: who broke my heart, and then stitched it back together again. 

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Buster

Stand on the shore for me, back arched, still tall

Kiss me, shake sand in my face: you never tire!

Hold me back down, ’till I choke with desire

Wear me forever, until you tire of this life.

You don’t know it but this is the most erotic moment.

You can’t be sure now, yet this is the strongest you will ever feel.

You’ll never understand: this is the perfect deal.

A deal I’ll remember forever, till I tire of my life.

You lay down and died for me: gave chase to my sticks

Rolled over and cried for me, closed those bright eyes

Ran away and flew with me: what we had needed no lies

Now: walk away into the sun with me, until we tire of this life!

I didn’t expect it to go all the way,

I couldn’t recall this had ever happened before,

I shouldn’t be feeling the way I do, wanting more.

Remembering us forever: till the end of this life.

Sit up and beg for me: look at me, hard,

Run away and away from me, until you’re small as fly

Now closer and close to me: so close that I’ll cry

Hug me and hold me: let’s live life this way.

We diced with love, gave in to its charms

We both knew the questions but the answers were wrong

We played around hard but we played for too long

I posted you letters. But you didn’t respond.

Wiseman, 19 March

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So yes, I understand if you find the whole idea of such cruising strange, even a tad repugnant. But it was one of those things I just fell in love with. And they are the best, still in my mind taking me to a world away from the here and now, providing a memory within me so deep, so rich, so vivid, that I can close my eyes and still go back there now. And so I do- and then I sigh a little for things past, and feel a little sad, before remembering I need to be thanking someone for allowing me to be there at all, to experience such magical nights. And remember that some of us didn’t get to have that luxury.

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2.27 ”Sex Love and Life” the project

Sex Love and Life, index

So in this, the third part of what has seemingly become an extended essay, though by default as opposed to design, I suppose some will ask why try to articulate these thoughts at all? On some reflection I suppose because it is part of a personal quest to discover, to find, to articulate some universal truths about the nature of this thing. Whilst much has been written on the subject, (an understatement if ever there was one) it still seems to me it is difficult to really pin down if these are universal beliefs or personal to each of us. And of course it all has to be chemical in the end doesnt it? We all have a similar mess of different chemicals being continuously pumped around our individual bodies, although, to an extent, in differing amounts.

And yet, for me at least, there remain unanswered questions about the nature of the soul, if indeed it exists at all, whether we all have the same capacity to love and be loved from birth or whether it changes as we grow, and what exactly the spark that ignites us is guided by, chemical, spiritual, innate, pre determined? I suppose one plausible answer might be that it occurs when the greatest number of our senses are motivated (and in the other person too if it is to be mutual). And if one is blocked does that negate the event. Of course this is one question that is answered relatively easily, for we know that people with very impaired senses (with no sight, with no hearing) can still very much fall, although it seems often this can be because their other senses become more developed.

Then there is the idea that when we are feeling particularly vulnerable, we are more attuned to the effects of these chemicals, or that the mix does certain things to our body in its chemically altered state. And then there are periods in our lives when consciously or unconsciously we find that we desire things, or we desire things we see, in others. I find it interesting that our sense of smell in particular plays such a large part in the equation but it does seem to be the way.

In my case, as an older man, when someone gives you something you crave, the vitality of youth, it is not easy to resist it. And when someone gives you something that seems to entail special effort, it is also relatively easy to first enjoy it, and then come to expect it. Then again, when someone tells you, you are indeed special, (when all around seem may pretty blase to the fact), your heart will likely sing. At least mine did. And when that someone does all those things, you are, essentially, potentially a lost cause to any form of reasoned rational thought.

It is so easy to convince yourself that you love them, and that they must feel something special towards you. And then equally, that you can depend on them for so much more. And feel hurt (and more) when that doesn’t manifest itself. In such a situation what is the real truth here and who, when it all goes wrong, really is the wronged party?

People often weave tangled webs around themselves for a myriad of reasons. Just before halloween, Juan was helping me put up fake spider webs from packets of white webbing and I marvelled at the way he was able to create the most intricate of fake webs around my house. ´People don’t put them up properly´ he explained, as he delighted in creating the most intricate creative patterns, deftly attaching them to walls and furnishings with scotch tape.‘’You’re a master at this’’ I exclaimed and he laughed. But yes, he was a master at creating and carrying out a plan, an idea, developing his own web. He clearly enjoyed doing it, and he wanted people to know it too. My only concern was that perhaps some might get trapped in that web and find it hard to escape.

On my previous birthday he wrote a letter inside a card, telling me how special I was. ´Your heart is endless and you are a magnificent example of the meaning of friendship. A huge hug for my remarkable, unique, lovely warm hearted friend´. I took it as a ´special letter´at the time, whilst I can see now that he wrote it as a letter for others to consider. I see now that I was already starting to see him as a ´special person´ and he saw me as yes, a ´special person´ but not in that same way. That letter in retrospect might been the catalyst that started the misunderstanding that I then laboured under and unwittingly (or indeed wittingly) nurtured, from that time onwards. There was nothing promised in the letter and yet somehow I saw it as a statement of intent. In retrospect it was not. In fact it was printed out and not even signed by him.

When we want something badly it is so easy to see things that aren’t there, we convince ourselves they might be and they can become real, in our imagination. Eventually I came to crave them. I wanted that attention, admiration, those kind words. I wanted to be seen, appreciated as someone who mattered, as someone who was not old, feeble, past his best as someone who still ‘had it’ And yes, who still mattered. It is a theme I think that plays out over many lives, in various ways, as we age gracefully or indeed disgracefully. And sometimes it can mean an attachment to a person that is only a half truth. Not exactly a lie but something that owes a deal to a wish fulfilment.

Before you know it you are consumed by that attention, allowing it to become special, to take over your life, to desire it and feel a- very literal- sense of loss when it´is not there, almost like a bereavement, of sudden emptyness again. Loss of purpose and sense of self. Perhaps I am over exaggerating this desire for effect. When you feel alive again, a valued person, with this other person, anything else can seem decidedly second rate.

If I could distil all this into its very essence, I suppose it comes down to the feeling of having a genuine human connection with all its associated warmth, of being valued, trusted, (along with senses being stimulated). Being told the truth. 

Although as I´ve already asked, what exactly is the truth ? Is it ok to tell white lies sometimes, to uphold the sacred notion of the whole truth? Society places a very great emphasis on the whole truth, we swear by it in a witness stand: so help me god. Yet it is very hard to unravel where the whole truth goes sometimes, in our lives, in our relationships, in our friendships, in our workplaces. Of one thing we can be reasonably certain, my truth is different to your truth. And indeed my truth is different to Juan´s truth. We all do things for our own satisfaction and pleasure to some extent, even if they are seemingly, on the surface. about care for others. 

Re-reading that birthday letter again, the writer does claim things for himself. How he has had fun meeting other people as a result of events I had facilitated, created, how he hopes to benefit from finding others like me, to make his life easier and happier, how he hopes others will think about these things, the meaning of these qualities. It is, in its own way a very honest letter, a very truthful letter. And, to me, at the time, a very beautiful letter that seemingly says a lot about its writer. 

And so I am not surprised by how ´tangled up´ I became or thought I became, in this persons life, even though in retrospect I realise I know very little about it at all. And why I wanted to see this person achieve a level of happiness and success. I even realise how these feelings became a millstone around both our necks, for they were not really helpful in many ways to me, in that they were not realistic but simply a desire, and not helpful to Juan as they became an additional burden to deal with, in a time of both change and when it was necessary to shed things that kept him tied to his home city. So something relatively simple became complicated and distorted. Fraught with misadventure and open to confusion, disilusion and frustration. 

Oh, and again I marvel at what complicated patterns and webs we all weave. And surely that must be the final word on this subject?

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Song for the Refugees (epic kids choral mix) Original composition, Dave Wiseman

Hunting for you (all over) , Original composition Dave Wiseman

Echoes of Dissent in Wien (anti Austrian Freedom Party song) Original composition, Dave Wiseman

Riding the sky (fantasy remix) Orig composition Dave Wiseman

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The Ecstasy of Gold (remix) Orig. Morricone)Remix by Dave Wiseman

Composition for piano, harp and dove, Original composition Dave Wiseman

I´m still standing, Orig source lyrics ´I`m still standing´, Elton John, 1983, Arrangement by Dave Wiseman

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The Crusoe Trilogy, remixed and adapted, parts 1, 2, 3 A homenaje to the Robinson Crusoe Suite, (from ´Robinson Crusoe´ (1964) lyrics and composition by Robert Mellin and Gian Piero Reverberi, 1964) by Dave Wiseman

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When you go so high (diva old skool remix). Original composition Dave Wiseman

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Dreaming of Jesus in the Sky with Diamonds, lyrics partially adapted from Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds , The Beatles, 1966. Composition arranged by Dave Wiseman

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A New Gold Dream remix trilogy, lyrics partially adapted from New Gold Dream (81, 82, 83, 84) Simple Minds, 1982. Composition arranged by Dave Wiseman

1.Kaos series remix 2. Parisian remix 3.Urgent remix

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I run away (instrumental)Melody partially sampled from the James Bond Theme, Monty Norman, 1962. Composition arranged by Dave Wiseman

Gotta Turn that Sucka´round, (6am chill mix), melody adapted from Hold that Sucker Down , Rollo Armstrong, 1994. Adaption remix arranged by Dave Wiseman

We fade away, a homenaje to Fade to Grey, Visage, 1980, melody and lyrics adapted by Dave Wiseman

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Love is Stranger, adapted melody and lyrics from Love is a Stranger (Eurythmics, 1982)

My Milkshake adapted melody and lyrics from Milkshake Man, written and performed Marty Zamotto (Go-Jo), written by Zamotto/Shepherd, Australian 2025 Eurovision Song Entry

Your Milkshake Man part deux (shake it up mix) Adapted melody and new lyrics Dave Wiseman

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Tangerine Groves Forever, Homanaje to John Lennon writing Strawberry Fields Forever in Almeria, Andalucia, adapted melody and samples from lyrics from Strawberry Fields Forever (The Beatles, 1966)

Euphoria Bay (1965) Fantasy LA soap from the sixties. Adapted lyrics from ´New Gold Dream´ , Simple Minds 1983

Take Me Down Another homenaje to John Lennon writing Strawberry Fields Forever in Almeria 1966, with lyrics and melody partially adapted from Strawberry Fields Forever (The Beatles, 1966)

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Back to Mixology 1

Mixology 3 Other tracks

Mixology 4 Other tracks

To the Alcazabar (ooh la la remix) Original composition Dave Wiseman

Journey to Reunion (key guide track) Original composition Dave Wiseman

Journey to Reunion (vocal track) Original composition written and sung by Dave Wiseman

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Cry Original composition by Benson Boone, 2024 sung by Dave Wiseman

Those echoes of Vienna (remix) Original composition by Dave Wiseman , inspired by ‘‘Vienna’‘, Ultravox, 1980

Hear the Silence (Midnight at the Bell remix)Lyrics partially adapted from ”Enjoy the Silence”, Depeche Mode. 1990, Track by Dave Wiseman

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I´m always coming up with you (lyrics partially abridged from ”Never let me down again”, Depeche Mode, 1987) Dave Wiseman

Theme for my greatest cities (haunted fantasy mix), (lyrics and melody partially adapted from ´Theme for Great Cities´, Simple Minds 1980. David Wiseman
Theme for my greatest cities (time for fun mix), (lyrics and melody partially adapted from ´Theme for Great Cities´ Simple Minds 1980. David Wiseman

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One Day (Echo of that day mix), Original composition Dave Wiseman

Wild and free (my secret love) Lyrics inspired by ´Secret Love´ Doris Day 1953. Composition arranged by Dave Wiseman

Hombres Interieures (instrumental), original composition Dave Wiseman

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I´ll be around for you (key mix for vocal addition) Original song Dave Wiseman

Go (before those teardrops start) Lyrics inspired by´Go´ Gigiloli Cinquetti 1974, Composition arranged by Dave Wiseman

My fading star (key mix for vocal addition) Original song Dave Wiseman

Beautiful Things (instrumental remix) Original composition. Benson Boone 2024

I lost control Original composition I lose control Teddy Swims 2024, with reworked lyrics. Composition arranged Dave Wiseman

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Ghost Town (instrumental big remix) Orig lyrics: Ghost Town, Benson Boone 2023. Composition arranged by Dave Wiseman

Ghost Town (instrumental harmonic remix). Orig Lyrics Ghost Town, Benson Boone 2023, Composition arranged Dave Wiseman

Winds of Change (doubtful remix) Original composition Dave Wiseman with concept partially inspired by Ray of Light, Madonna, 1998

Del desierto al mar, un canto para Almeria, original composition Dave Wiseman. A homenaje to Morricone and Almeria´s role in the making of ´spaghetti westerns´

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Mixology 1 Bowie mixology

Mixology 2 Other tracks

Mixology 4 Other tracks

A collection of remixed songs and original material, partly using AI and UDIO

Love and a Thousand other things (key track for vocal addition), Original composition, Dave Wiser

Waiting No More , Original composition, Dave Wiser

The love I lost (extended version), Original composition, Dave Wiseman

The Almeriense , Original composition, Dave Wiseman

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Echoes of Love lust (2am mix) Original composition Dave Wiseman

Together we Navigate ( Nice n Smooth mix) Original composition Dave Wiseman

Together we Navigate (version 2 male lead) Original composition Dave Wiseman

Tracks below

Love and thousand other things (bluegrass mix) Original composition Dave Wiseman

Gold Memories Original composition, Dave Wiseman (lyrics orig derived from Wordsworth, ´Daffodils´)

When it all falls away , Original composition Dave Wiseman

Tracks below

White Horses (sixties smooth ride mix). Lyrics partially abridged from White Horses, Jackie Lee, 1968 . Composition Dave Wiseman

All time low (beep beep old skool mix) Original composition Dave Wiseman

The warm glow of midnight Lyrics partly derived from Felice Picano ´The Gilded Boys are Dancing´1972. Original composition Dave Wiseman

When it all falls away (Ged out electro funk remix) Original composition Dave Wiseman

Echoes of Innocence Original composition Dave Wiseman with lyrics from poem´Bluebells´Dave Wiseman 1978

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Home to Almeriense (mezcla homenaje a Fangoria), Original composition Dave Wiseman

Dije mi corazon en Genoveses Original composition Dave Wiseman

Whispers of Deceit Original composition Dave Wiseman

Tracks below

I´ll be around for you (lyrics partially derived from ´Disenchanted´ The Communards , 1986), original composition Dave Wiseman

On White Horses (Rocky Road mix) Original composition with abridged lyrics from White Horse, Jackie Lee, 1968

Echoes of Innocence (lotta soul mix)Original composition with lyrics from ´Bluebells´, Dave Wiseman 1977

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Spectacular, sensational (partial lyrics adapted from All the Lovers by Kylie Minogue) Original composition Dave Wiseman

I´m chasing tomorrow (abridged lyrics from ´Take on Me´, A-ha, 1985)

Crying to your Soul (partial lyrics adapted from Bronski Beat , Smalltown Boy, 1984) Original composition Dave Wiseman

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Mixology 1 Bowie mixology

Mixology 3 other tracks

Mixology 4 Other tracks