A few years ago, not long after moving into our new (old) house, Mrs Le Riff was overturning the neglected flower beds in the garden when she unearthed an old toy that had been lost for a couple of decades or more.
It was a small dumper truck, metal and heavy, the likes of which you just couldn't find in the aisles of a vast hanger sized Toy-R-Us these days.
The paint was corroded, the windows misted up and scratched over the years spent as an obstacle for the meandering earth worms.
As I cleaned it up to present to little Le Riff I felt a wave of melancholy wash over me.
Was it to do with the thoughts of a distant child, now a man, who had once lost something precious? Was it because of my own toys that I had once cherished that I no longer owned or knew of their whereabouts? Or perhaps this object out of time was a reminder to me that as a child you looked at the world in constant amazement with your imagination wide open and keen, something that becomes progressively harder to do in adult life? Something that is all too easily lost...
Whatever, that emotion is one that Boards Of Canada still seem intent on tapping into with the release of their third album The Campfire Headphase from which '84 Pontiac Dream is taken.
The music made by Boards Of Canada often sounds weather beaten and decayed. Distant analogue sounds from a time less compliacted that have been damaged as they were somehow plucked from the past and presented to us anew. "Plucked" being an appropriate word as BOC's Mike Sandison and Marcus Eoin have expanded their sonic pallet to include guitars this time around.
Memories that come drifting back like a familiar smell that you haven't smelt for years.
Memories of watching Me And You with a sticky glass bottle of Lucozade covered in crinkly orange plastic coating at the side of my blankets-on-the-sofa bed (the word duvet still hadn't entered the english language at this point). Educational TV programs floating across the room to me in a flu-ridden altered state as the doctor arrived to place his cold stethoscope (and even colder hands) on my hairless chest, and all the time me imagining my school mates sliding on compacted ice across the snow covered winter playground...