— David Hepworth
Climbing up the wet steps, there are only four things on my mind. First and foremost, is the waterslide I am approaching, my eyes occasionally glancing up at the rapidly descending silhouette of the lucky individual taking their turn and at that particularly cool bend where some water would spill over. Second, is on gingerly taking steps as to avoid band-aids and other foreign objects that have always made public swimming pools repulsive, my toes and the balls of my feet making as little contact with the grubby surface as possible. Third, I am reminding myself to not look directly at any untamed bikini lines that might greet me at the top of the staircase like that one time a couple years earlier. And, finally, I am listening to the music that is echoing through the indoor water park.
I've never paid much attention to music in most public recreation facilities. At roller and ice rinks it serves the invaluable service of pushing skaters along to a fast tempo — while helping to mask just what a tedious act skating is — but the songs themselves matter little. If the in-house deejay happened to put on Wham! or Corey Hart then my ears might have perked up a little but the likes of The Fabulous Thunderbirds or ZZ Top wouldn't have driven me to glide in the direction of the exit. At bowling alleys and snooker halls, it always helped my morale as a hopeless bowler and snooker player to have some light pop and rock music on in the background but, again, the particulars of song and artist didn't matter. But indoor wave pools are another matter.
A horn blasts and there's a flurry of excitement as kids get themselves ready to head back to the pool (unless you happen to be one of those losers who choose to stay in the water when the waves are dormant, especially those weirdos who take the opportunity to, like, swim). I grab my inner tube and lug it out to the deep end. A surge of power pop, hip hop, metal or dance pop echoes out of the speakers and the waves begin. The song itself I hardly notice but the frantic energy, the screams of delight from kids all around me, a leisure centre employee over the PA urging us to ride the waves (surely no one's surfing in here, are they?), my tube crashing into others mix with the music to create a pandemonium. This goes on for a while and I begin to get used to it, my adrenaline has subsided and I can even relax as my tube rocks over the waves. I might even hum along to whatever tune is currently being piped in.
The waves subside after a while and everyone glumly goes back to waiting for the next round. Some head over to the hot pool, while others figure this is the best time to get a hot dog and fries. (The only freaks are those sad souls who stay in the dormant wave pool. Some choose to swim, others just sort of wading, doubtless figuring that they've got the jump on the competition once the waves start up again) A waterslide enthusiast, I immediately head for the stairs. The music hasn't stopped, though its energy has leveled off a bit, and it's only now that I begin to pay attention. Madonna's "Open Your Heart" or "Papa Don't Preach" are songs I often identify with wave pools but so too is Bobby O's "She Has a Way", a tune I feel like I've heard before. Wave pool music works that way: catchy if you choose to listen but unobtrusive if you don't care. I may have been nodding along while standing in line on my tip toes waiting for my go on the waterslide but once the surly attendant signals that I'm up I'm all about the spirit of the slide and any music that happens to be on falls away. Shooting out of the bottom and into the wading pool, I emerge and, assuming it hasn't already wrapped up and moved on to next in the rotation, the song is much the same as I left it forty seconds earlier. She has a way of getting what she wants: yeah, that's how it is at a water park, we all get what we want. I decide to have another go on the waterslide before the next session of waves starts.
David Hepworth prophesied a hit for Bobby O but it failed to materialise. Despite his rave review, Smash Hits neglected to cover him further nor did they bother to print the lyrics to "She Has a Way". This could well have been just the way O liked it too: he wrote the song, did the singing, produced it and had it released on his own O Records label. He had the looks and the sound to be a pop star but perhaps he was content with sharing his work at discotheques and wave pools around the world.
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Also Reviewed This Fortnight
Tracey Ullman: "Breakaway"
An amazingly comedy-free recording — although considering I've never been a fan, I'd say that's the case with much of her work — that provides a spotlight for Tracey Ullman to affectionately zip her way through an obscure sixties B-side. As Hepworth says, it's a very "actressey" record but at least she's approaching it with the spirit of girls round the pub enjoying a drunken singalong. Too bad the video — which Heps expects to be its saving grace — isn't much cop but I suppose I would say that, wouldn't I?
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