Music is best
experienced in unknown surroundings. That way, the sound comes sharper and
lyrics make sense even if they don’t. So that whenever I travel and expect to
see something new (which is always), I travel with music I have never heard
previously.
The trick is that
even if it’s not good – it would still be rendered special (likely) and
sentimental (definitely) by simply being discovered the way it was. On a train,
together with a bunch of awkward people you wish to unsee. In a churchyard,
with a few squirrels running around the tombstones. On a bench by a river.
Tobin Sprout’s “Waving at Airplanes” is a brilliant song, but even more so – it’s the discovery. The way
it happened for the first time, in a dodgy Romanian suburb near Turnpike Lane.
Never underestimate the circumstances under which you... This sentence should
go unfinished.
