Back in 1997 there was a long weekend in a car with a cassette sampler of bands on Lookout Records as one of the few thing we had to listen to. The weekend was legendary not because we went and did anything amazing, but because everything worked against us. The car broke down regularly. The traffic between Suffolk and Dunbartonshire was gruelling. The weather beat ice and freezing winds down upon us in May.
This chirpy little ditty took on an almost surreal quality as it went round and round again in the car stereo. Repeatedly asking “Well tell me where you wanna go? I’ll take you there” while we sat wet, cold and unmoving for hours.
We were going to spend the weekend with friends. By the time we finally got there (pre mobile phones remember) they’d given up on us and headed down to the Loch to enjoy themselves as planned.
So The High Fives, a happy little pop punk band. A group who only seem interested in making the world a bouncy happy go lucky place. They will forever be associated with gruelling struggle and bitter disappointment for me. And I love them for that.