So, there I am putting in a cheeky session on the turbo. iPod on shuffle, playing the game of songs with plenty of BPM go hard, lurve songs go slow. And it’s working well…
Of course it is, I’ve got impeccable music taste me. So, Muse, Stockholm Syndrome, gets me moving, LCD Soundsystem Yeah, Yeah, Yeah (Pretentious mix) pushes me towards MHR. Luckily, PJ Harvey butts in with You Said Something and I can relax a little. Death in Vegas join the fray, Placebo – for old times sake, Radiohead, (maybe whisper these ones Coldplay, The Killers), Chemical Brothers, Prodigy, Gorrilaz, Mull Historical Society, Tom Mcrae, Hot Chip, Klaxons…. (Look, I was an indie kid alright.)
I’m almost enjoying myself. On a turbo. Hell, I even try and sing along. (Bad – took me above the max the HRM had set for me.) And then it all goes badly, badly wrong. First Prince pops along with Kiss. Actually, I like this, but it’s not my music. Mr Prince belongs to Mrs Spedding. No worries, I can put up with that as hopefully Elbow or something will be next.
What-the-hell-is-going-on? My ears, my ears – they’re….they’re bleeding! Will Young is singing All Time Love. He drains the glycogen from my legs, sucks the breath from my lungs. I want to be sick. Will Young leaves me a broken man. I climb off the turbo and take a shower. I feel dirty.
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