For the month of November, I’ll be selecting songs in conjunction with the music Twitter challenge: #WelcomeToTheOccupation.

I was a latecomer to the genius of Slowdive. It wasn’t until the pandemic that their music suddenly resonated with me. Like life at the time – with everyone in my family Zooming in our apartment – the music of Slowdive often feels like layers on top of each other, co-mingling and melding. The music suddenly made sense to me. I understand now why people often say Slowdive songs feel like an escape. I get that same reaction every time I hear their music, including “Alison” off the band’s second album, Souvlaki.

The soaring, swirling feedback-fueled guitar parts are what draws me in. But it’s Halstead’s lyrics that keep me there in that space of utter detachment from the rest of the world. The feeling mirrors Halstead’s own escape to Wales following his breakup with Goswell. Which reminds me of a quality I’ve long admired in music – where the songwriter’s emotions become our own. It’s what makes “Alison” autobiographical in its own unconventional way.

“And the sailors, they strike poses. TV covered walls, and so slowly With your talking and your pills, Your messed up life still thrills me.”