In the new organizational structure that is life with a
teacher-in-training in the family, and the necessity of shuttling around two now very active kids who are too young to be left on their own, I find myself now driving
my very own vehicle in the morning to the local
commuter train station. Which is a welcome change from the endless parade of
buses that I've been accustomed to in recent years.
All this gives me time in the car, to and from, to listen to music and in so doing dig back through my music collection, almost all of which is a) on compact disk, and b) has never been put onto my Minidisc player, let along any kind of iThing. So there's a large back catalogue of music I've been missing out on, and am happily rediscovering.
Albums, for example, like
Dead Cities by
The Future Sound of London, an indescribably complex electronica mish-mash from the late 1990's, which has some truly incredible pieces on it: from the downbeat grooves of
My Kingdom, to the aggressive video-game grooves of
We Have Explosive, through the ambient floatiness of
Vit Drowning and
Through Your Gills I Breathe, to one of my very favourites, quiet and sad and poignantly calm:
Everyone in the World Is Doing Something Without Me.
It's the musical equivalent of the far-off rumble of a jet passing in an overcast sky - lonely and bleak and a reminder that there are people all around you, going places, doing things, absorbed in their own lives, completely outside your own.
Quite like myself, isolated away in the green Protege, on my way to and from the station, humming along with the 1990's, oblivious.
