Playlist for Life: Nicola Sturgeon and Justin Currie

My early childhood musical memories would be from what my dad used to play in the car – everything from the Corries to Simon & Garfunkel. That’s really the soundtrack of my youth.

But the first song I remember when I was a wee girl was Seasons in the Sun by Terry Jacks. I identify it with being at my grandparents’ house. It would often be playing in the car on the long winding road from Ayr down to Dunure where my grandparents lived.

And it sparks emotions too. I remember knowing it was a sad song, despite the fact it had a really happy tune, but not really understanding it. So, whenever I hear it not only do I get transported back to my grandparents’ house, those emotions come to the fore.

What other songs do you recall?

The other song that I have childhood memories around – happy and comical – is Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl. My dad used to sing that to me when I was wee and I’ve got a distinct memory of dancing around our living room with him as he was singing it and he went over on his ankle. I remember thinking he was kidding on. He was writhing in agony on the floor and I was laughing at him and trying to pull him up. And it turned out he’d broken his ankle in two places and spent the next six weeks in plaster. I’m not sure that’s a good memory but it’s a distinctive memory!

When you get back home from a long day do you listen to music to relax?

No. Music is not unimportant to me but books are far more important. If you were asking me to choose between a list of books that meant something to me in my life and a list of songs it would be the former. Music is important to me in more of a subconscious way than an overt way.

Is there any other music that is important to you?

Yes, but most of it is deeply embarrassing! My teenage years spanned the 80s so my musical preferences from that era are Wham, Duran Duran, Spandau Ballet, all these greats of that era. Those are the bands that I identify with my angst-ridden teenage years. But me and my husband had some Eddi Reader singing Burns played at our wedding. So that’s special.

JUSTIN CURRIE, singer and songwriter

What are your strongest musical memories?

The first few listens of I Am The Walrus when I was 12 were so insane that they are kind of buried in my memory. It’s very barbed and angry and I suppose it appealed to my latent rebellion or something because it sounds like quite a savage criticism of 1960s mores and cultural cons. And as a young, pre-punk it appealed to me – the anger and the snidiness of it. It’s a very snide song.

Do you have any surprising favourites?

When I was really young I got hooked on Gilbert O’Sullivan. There is a song called Nothing Rhymed which I know backwards. If that came on the radio I think I could still remember all the words – even if I was asleep.

I used to sing it a lot. I used to sit in the living room of the wee cottage we used to have in Kibworth Harcourt in Leicestershire. My mum and dad had bought a stereo, which was quite posh in those days – a Crown stereo. My mum must have liked Gilbert O’Sullivan, or my sisters, and she bought his first two albums. I just became obsessed with them and I used to sit at the coffee table pretending I was playing his piano parts and singing along. At the end of every song I would stand up and take a bow to the silent applause that I was receiving.

What does music mean to you?

We did a lot of tour buses in the 90s and you’d find yourself stuck on the freeways of America for months and months at a time. I don’t know if you would get homesick but you could get quite emotional at times lying on your bunk. You know, reading a book or listening to music.

I remember listening to Curtis Mayfield’s second album, Curtis, which has a really incredibly saccharine, sweet, sentimental love song called The Makings of You. The first time I ever burst out crying to a piece of music was listening to that. You know - too much beer, total exhaustion and a song that just bypasses all your conscious filters and goes straight for the heart.

When I hear it now it still reminds me of that. I couldn’t say ‘oh maybe that lyric’s a bit too cheesy’ or ‘that chord is a bit too sweet’. To me it’s just pure love and sentiment, in the right sense of the word, and it always makes me feel kind of wonderful.

The Herald has teamed up with Sally Magnusson, who set up Playlist for Life in 2013. The charity aims to make it possible for every person with dementia to have access to a playlist of personally meaningful music from their life, delivered via an iPod. Research has shown that meaningful music offers a key to unlocking individuality, to “bringing back” that person, as well as supporting family and wider social connections. See www.playlistforlife.org.uk

Have you created a playlist for a loved on? If so, email and tell us at sophiemclean@ymail.com