I bought my first record at the age of 15, a scratched, secondhand copy of the self-titled debut album Chicago Transit Authority, from a friend at school. Since then I’ve amassed and subsequently lost, sold or given away, vast collections of LPs, cassettes, mini-discs and CDs. But I still have the music. Everything is faithfully stored on hard drives, for playing at home and SD cards, for use when I travel. Maybe one day I’ll get into streaming.
When I travel, be it by car, bus, boat, train or plane I need to have music with me. Nothing beats watching the countryside roll past the window with the right song playing in my ear. On long-haul flights, after I’ve nibbled a bit on the four course dinner served at 1am, nothing sends me off to sleep better than some soothing, laid-back music. Well, nothing apart from a couple of Ambien, or your sleeping pill of choice. When I wake in the middle of the night — isn’t it nearly always the middle of the night when you fly anywhere from Australia — what do I do? Head to the toilet of course. But when I’m back in my seat, I untangle the headphones and put the music back on.
Music wise I’m still firmly stuck in the 1970s:
Well I’ve always been a dreamer
Unfortunately the song then descends into remorse and self-loathing with the follow up line:
But the dreams I’ve seen lately keep on turning out
And burning out and turning out the same
Then, perhaps inspired by a few drinks at the Hotel California things look up:
Put me on a highway and show me a sign
To the final crescendo of:
Take it to the limit one more time (repeat to fade out).
Album: One of These Nights