“I lost the plot for a while then. And I lost the subplot, the script, the soundtrack, the intermission, my popcorn, the credits and the exit sign” – excerpt from ‘High Fidelity’ by Nick Hornby
Chapter 1: Intro
This is the first of a multi-part thematic series about obsessions, music and obsession with music. Based on my own experiences, I will attempt to explore and rationalize the profound impact of music on our habits, daily routine and life in general. With music being the focal point, each part of the series will be focusing on a different aspect; all-day long visits to record stores, endless queues outside clubs, late night radio listening with the record button on, mixtapes, the digital era emergence and the inevitable changes to the way we perceive, consume and enjoy music.
The series title is a paraphrase of an excerpt from the book High Fidelity by Nick Hornby, featuring also in the eponymous film adaptation a few years later (replace obsession with misery for the original quote). Although the essence of the question is totally different in the book and I am pretty certain Hornby didn’t have electronic music in mind, it has prompted a psychological dilemma that has been bothering me for years. What came first, the music or the obsession? Did I listen to electronic music (and drum & bass in particular) because I was obsessive? Or did I become obsessive because I listened to electronic music? Continue reading
Wednesday evening, January 18th, 2012 around 22:00, outside Heathrow airport
It had been almost 2 years since the last time; however the smell, the blowing wind and the sense of euphoria every time he landed on that soil hadn’t changed a bit. He and his mates grabbed a cab to the hotel close to his old neighbourhood, checking impatiently their watches anxious to be on time for the last orders in the pub; not a second should be wasted. The schedule for the trip was really tight, too many things to do, too little time.
Friday afternoon, January 20th, 2013, somewhere in central London
Jump the Q
A mini-interview with 22 short questions (some personal, some tricky) looking for equally short answers, addressed to artists, producers, promoters, djs, friends and affiliates of the blog in general.
Today Chris Marigold of Blu Mar Ten Jumps the Q
Blu Mar Ten
Let’s get started:
Set 1: The man behind the mask
A Frenchman, a card, a broken arm and the epiphany
Saturday afternoon, December 3rd 1994, somewhere in western Athens
He entered the cafeteria, where all his schoolmates used to gather on a Saturday afternoon for coffee and small talk. His mates waved at him. They were sitting on a table beside the big boys. Good choice, he thought, it was always entertaining to overhear the big boys chat about footie, music and clubbing. The main topic was the opening party several weeks ago and the blast everybody had had. He was well familiar with what the big lads were talking about. He and his mates had witnessed what would be a point of reference, a milestone in Athens nightclubbing for the years to come. They were so excited that they had become members that very night in order to jump the queue and save some money on the admission fee. That night a Frenchman was the special guest. He had run across a record of his, earlier that morning. At the time, there were no music genres – let alone subgenres – in his mind. As long as it was electronic and sounded right, he was game.
Saturday around midnight, December 3rd 1994, somewhere in central Athens
They took the last bus service, as per usual, to the city center. It was a good 20 minutes walk to the club, but that was no fuss. They were so anxious about what was going to happen that the distance and the cold were of minor importance. Outside the club a large queue was already forming. Three weeks ago, on the opening party, they were standing patiently one and a half hours in the cold to get in. Not this time he thought. They approached the bouncer and the face-controller jumping the queue with audacity. Upon showing their membership cards they were allowed in, amidst yelling and insults from the people in the queue. He smiled sardonically, as they walked the main entrance, already feeling goose bumps. He couldn’t tell if it were the lights, the smell, the banners, the people, but he would feel the same rush, every time he walked that door in the future. Any regular punter at the time would add to that. Continue reading