If I close my eyes tight enough I can feel the pink walls of my bedroom and feel the small room of my teenage years closing in on me. When I first listened to Scorpio Rising I was just beginning to divert my attention away from The Smiths and The Cure; it signifies the release from my youth and it’s been on quite a journey with me since those days of Sixth Form.
After listening to the song for a couple of years, I really began to take it into my stride when I hit 20. I dare to call my second year at University experimental: in life, love and other substances but I would lay in my room, on my double bed smoking and listening to Scorpio Rising on repeat. I had never smoked inside before. I still have never bought a packet of cigarettes but this song didn’t call for that legality. Making sure my window was open so my conservative housemate would not tell, I began to unpick the song in my mind and sing it so loud that if I looked in the mirror I could imagine Liam beside me. Part of that was arrogance, part of it was what I was smoking.
I could see University from my road and my walk to seminars was so short that I could do it before the Ice Cream Man’s tune stopped playing. Thinking I was sweet in tight denim pants, a leather made for shoegazing and a ripped stripy shirt, I would swagger through the masses listening to Scorpio Rising. I certainly looked like a dick, but the feeling of this song was emancipating me and setting me apart from ordinary folk on the street. I wanted to feel that release which the song recognises. Scorpio Rising is a cult club and you’re either in, and listening or on the sidelines. And if you’re on the sidelines, time isn’t for you. You might as well leave, because there will be no trace of you left once we, the people who are part of this reckoning, go crazy. We shed our skins, living with our sins and start again.
When I came to Manchester, Scorpio Rising accompanied me around the city. I would watch people go about their business trying to catch their dreams to the usual drone of the working mans life. I could sit for hours listening to the song on repeat or in between other tracks, but in the end I always went back to this song. I would think about how switched on I was, on the outside watching everyone else and making observations that people wouldn’t even be able to recognise if they used a magnifying glass on their own reflection. That was my ‘psychic equaliser’, the ability to see, and it was in my head. However, due to listening to the song for so long I’m beginning to believe Liam is singing ‘Psyched to keep the lies up in your head.’ That is what people do, they keep the lies going on in and around their mind, kidding themselves that they’re free but in fact they’re the worker bees, working for the top. Unless you’re switched on, you’re psyched to keep those lies up. When the light is lit, then that’s when the equaliser begins to swathe in your mind.
Some argue that Scorpio Rising is a play on Pictures of Matchstick Men. Perhaps, in the depths of the song, it is. But then you would argue that, when you’re kissing the spine of the system, you’d certainly think otherwise if you were on the outside like me. When you see your psychic equaliser, come join me because it tastes delicious.
The arrogance I am delivering is what Scorpio Rising does. Let it set you free x