In an attempt to bring a veil of unreality to the days I’m immersing myself in this.
I likes a bit of sound-art sampling from time to time.
A radio channel Russian roulette served me Roger Whittaker’s The Last Farewell. When I was younger I’d grab that dial and race down the band to anywhere else. Late onset maturity has me listening to the lyrics for probably the first time.
The ideological music snobbery of youth gives way to a desire to listen. How very progressive of me (my mock cynicism floweth over).
I am though left with a strange desire to whistle loudly in a khaki outfit.
We listened to the new Bowie album today. We’ve both been Bowie appreciative for many many years but this one is not so far tickling my musical ear drums. Maybe it’ll take a few listens. I mean I was initially very cool about Heathen but came round after repeated listening.
It’s sad I feel like this after a 10 year wait since the last album and having been a keen listener to his output since my per teen days but then that’s music I suppose.
Much like food and humour we all like different things at different times.
Good album. The sort of thing I would no doubt have listened too continuously as a teen. That’s not damning with faint praise, honest.
I have awoken with Yes sir, I can boogie by Baccara stuck on a loop in my head. Oh the torture. Shakes fist at Top Of The Pops vintage re-runs on BBC4.
Been listening to this album on Spotify and it has intrigued me immensely.