[Ny Minute Now]

While I've long taken out their whimsical tracks from my iTunes playlist (and backed them up in some cdr sitting in a dusty pile far, far away) I still have the fondest memories of the group, led by Liz Fraser who gained notoriety for inventing lyrics onstage. (Click on the photo for sample tracks on eMusic, or scroll down below.)

I first heard of the Cocteau Twins through my good friend Anne Bella, former fashion editor of Preview. We met during the formative years of Seventeen Philippines, where we both replaced then fashion and beauty editor Maddy Madrid who was leaving for New York (sound familiar?). She, and our other friend Ana Kalaw, and I would try to decipher the mumble and jumble of words that could only be made coherent with a certain degree of inebriation. I, with my sweet wine and dark chocolate buzz, joined my friends in one happy cloud.

Sadly, I approach revisiting these tunes with trepidation, as these marked the prelude to a sad and torturous end of a three-year relationship in my early twenties—a breakup that would lead to a rollercoaster two years meeting (and some dating) a slew of personalities that only made true the fact that finding good, honest, and kind-hearted men was no feat too small, whether you were in smoggy Manila or cloudy Manhattan. Research has shown that our brain preserves memories in certain segments, thus, the reason why certain smells and sounds remind us of a particular time. And these songs have definitely made their mark in the designated cortex, not only because of their very distinct—and maximum anti-pop—quality, but also the arguably distant era they now represent.

Anyway, it's been six years since my first (and only) taste of this type of music, and I'd already gone through three rounds of mp3 spring-cleaning on my desktop that have made way for plenty other tunes and tempos. I've also since been nestled safely and soundly in the cusp of a stronger, long(er)-term relationship (three and a half years and counting). But still, I can't help but feel a twitch and tingle of paranoia as I battle the desire for a second serving of these songs while at the same time, distill the unpleasant aftermath of that time in my life.

Funny, years later my boyfriend's little sister would get together with someone who would get her into the Cocteau Twins. Initially, I couldn't help but feel territorial of the special tunes, or perhaps the fragile memories they trigger.

To listen or not to listen? Too late—my Deezer window already has about 20 of their tracks lined up. But anyway, after already fiercely battling this arduous distance in the recent months, what damage can a bunch of old songs do? I try my best to brush off the dread.

If you're curious, here's a sampling from Heaven or Las Vegas—the band's "happiest" album to date. (You'll understand the need for quotation marks after listening to their other songs.)

Cherry-Coloured Funk
Heaven or Las Vegas