A Northern Soul film

When I left Nottingham for London just before the end of the ’60s, Northern Soul was still in its embryonic stage. We’d danced to “I Can’t Help Myself”, “This Old Heart of Mine”, “You Don’t Know Like I Know”, “Helpless” and “Knock on Wood”, but something different was about to emerge from that club culture. On a visit back home in, I think, 1972, my friend David Milton — who had a shop in Derby called R. E. Cords — told me what it had become, after Dave Godin had given it a name in his Blues & Soul column. At Brian Selby’s Selectadisc, on long-gone Arkwright Street, I bought the Fuller Brothers’ “Time’s A Wasting” on Soul Clock and a bootleg of David and the Giants’ “Ten Miles High”. I’d pretty much stopped dancing by then, but although I was always at arm’s length from Northern Soul (no visits to the Torch in Stoke on Trent, Blackpool Mecca or Wigan Casino), it always exerted an emotional pull on me: geographical, tribal and musical. It reminds me of the wonderful Welsh word hiraeth:…