I've always had a soft spot for this song and for Deacon Blue, even if they were never really cool. I guess they had integrity but I'm unsure how that might have manifested itself other than in this song. Actually I've never listened to an album of there's all the way through, just singles here and there. But this song seems to me to be valuable stab at expressing some kind of self awareness regards the pitfalls and contradictions that come with being Scots and trying (or at least hoping) to be artsy or soulful or just a little creative.
There's some baggage here I fear. Scots can do these things quite well, world class even, but the nagging doubts remain and corrode the shaky outcomes and we can so easily self destruct, curl up and hibernate. Our traditional home grown tunes remain tricky to navigate so we embrace and misappropriate all those other peculiar styles that we feel must be better than the tartan bass-line and the shortbread beats.
The truth is Fergus can't sing the blues (though he can certainly try and have fun doing it) and he can't sing Hip-Hop, Ska, Rap, Mid Atlantic Jazz or Thrash Metal either. He lacks the authenticity, he's lived the wrong life. You see poor old Fergus is from a housing estate in Central Scotland and, well, he is and we are a wee bit of a joke when it comes to entertainment and art ... so some may say. Too small, too stupid, too self conscious and much too self aware ... but we still dream of Memphis.
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