Today is soundtracked by one song: "I Apologise" by Husker Du, from "New Day Rising" (clips here). There's something wonderfully unspoken about them: half the time I've no idea what Bob or Grant are bellowing over that shining river of noise, but it doesn't matter. Listening to a song like "I Apologise", you just understand. There's an emotional connection to the power and the melody that shoots the underlying ideas straight to your synapses.
On a related note, Bob Mould now has his own weblog. He seems happy, content, doesn't wallow in Husker nostalgia and devotes a lot of his musical energy to dance music. I love it when people transfer their initial excitement for music along a steady stream of genres across the years, instead of letting it fester where it first bloomed. Proof of this for me came a couple of weeks ago at the Streets session at Neighbourhood. I was talking to Ben Watt in the DJ booth, telling him how much I'd always loved "North Marine Drive", whilst trying to make myself heard over the ridiculously banging Drum'n'Bass I was playing...

Yikes! Aromatherapy just got weird. Why not just live above a cafe?

Oh, this has just put the most enormous grin on my face.....a double CD of pop goodness- but for me the best bit is the chance to get "Safety Net" by the Shop Assistants on CD at last. Yes, it's true: I have a secret C86 past, one day i'll tell you more, but for now, i'm off to find that Jesse Garon demo tape.....

There was an odd luminescence to the sky this morning...bright sunshine cloaked in some fine hazy fog: added an extra frisson of surreality as I travelled back to London with some Tintinnabulation on the ipod. Feeling somewhat maudlin, must be that autumn weather getting to me. Will do my best to banish those demons with judicious use of alcohol tonight. Rah.

It's a pleasant evening back in town and I'm listening to Derek and Clive. Genius, pure and simple. Death Disco tonight, a possible v/o tomorrow morning, which, if it falls through, will be replaced by a trip to the launderette. \m/ \m/