LCD Soundsystem
45:33

You need a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, and a pair of jogging shoes. All strictly Nike. Why?!

Because 45:33 is the new album by LCD Soundsystem, commissioned indeed by Nike, available only for download on iTunes and specifically conceived as an electronic suite to listen to while jogging.

So it needs to be tested in the conditions for which it was designed.

We were saying shorts, t-shirt, and Nike shoes, plus of course your iPod (latest model, if possible). Now you just need to find a sufficiently cool place to jog. The South Bank in London might suit your needs (never mind if you live in Cologno Monzese or Cernusco sul Naviglio).

You start from the St Katharine Docks, where, for the modest sum of a few thousand pounds a month, you have your flat rented. Among the yachts in the marina, you begin your muscle warm-up while the LCDS synth opens the suite solo, on notes that rapidly increase in speed and scale. Adrenaline is rising.

You've set off and you're heading towards Tower Bridge, meanwhile the music has turned towards a pleasant easy-listening, with a somewhat retro flavor, complete with atmospheric keyboards, choirs, and a warm Barry White-esque voice delivering innocuous verses ("You can't hide... your love away from me").

After crossing the bridge, you find yourself on the South Bank riverside, the ultra-modern City Hall on your left, the Thames, and further on, the Tower of London to your right. The spaces become wider and from the headphones now returns a robust electronic base softened by an appealing bell sound. It's time to speed up.

You leave London Bridge and Blackfriars behind and, back on the riverside, you get distracted by dodging some tourists, losing concentration; but when you come back to yourself, the music is still right where you left it, only now it has become even more electronic, with multiple synthesizer overlays reminiscent of FatBoy Slim's "You've Come a Long Way, Baby". You pass the Tate Modern and the Millennium Bridge unscathed, but now the path is damnably obstructed by book stalls and street performers. It's time to slow down, after all, even the notes now are the more measured ones of a disco-fusion à la David Holmes, with complementing wind instruments and an appealing female voice.

Your energy is now exhausted. Frankly, you're no longer paying attention to the sounds in your ears, an anonymous electronic rock with an inexhaustible bass line. The London Eye and the Saatchi Gallery mark the end of your route. You have eight minutes left to catch your breath and stretch, lulled by sweet ambient music.

Then that evening you will delete this album from the iPod, as you are always short on space.