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How beautiful it was, you entered the gallery of wonders. Names, faces, covers. A mystery you wanted to explore, new sounds, trying to impress friends.
"I listen to the Cure! Cool, listen to Dururtti Colulumn." "But what about Joy Division?" "Take this Sounds record and let me know."
Getting high at home, jumping on the bed to "Surfer Rosa", !ED IS DEAd
Watch out, my folks are coming back, don't do anything strange. Puppets without strings.
And then those magazines "Sweet Music", you noted the records you wanted, but you had to put a substitute title, the substitute title was an incredible choice, not knowing you were at the mercy of the music magazines.
The offers allowed me to buy records at bargain prices, those you listened to the most because they were unknowns and you listened to convince yourself you hadn't picked a dud, but then you got attached to them like a stray kitten.
You got lost in the cover of "IN the grey Of............" by the Caravan, you looked at the cover of UMMAGUMMA and in your blissful innocence tried to enter that world.
I listened to Alan Parson, beautiful.. Bowie always my idol, but the first Bowie. The Berlin period wasn't him, it was a cocaine addict in the hands of a genius who made him buy cutting-edge equipment.
Those were the good times. Now I'm just a 40-year-old, half-addicted, half-alcoholic, maybe half-gay.
And music bores me
It bores me, like every day I spend bores me.
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