I wear my MiniDisc player like a coat for walking around town. When the tightly sealed headphones are slotted firmly home in my ears and Deep Dish are coursing through the electronic veins of the glittering little gadget I can ward off the city's roar and watch other's dance to the tune in my head.
It's easy to drown in the enormity of the music, and impossible to believe that the sounds wedged into my head are not filling the rest of the world. Soul of Man's enormous breakdowns must be syncopating the High Street's activities, Orbital's soaring riffs have to be forcing the sun to shine such a beautiful light, Digweed's soothing tracks are hushing and calming the train carriage. So I start to move in time too, occasional hand sweeps to introduce new bars, head nods to keep the rhythm, and huge, ear-splitting, pumped up, smiles as the bassline comes back fast and hard from the vertiginous breakdown.
I looked a bit of a pillock walking through Ipswich town centre the other night.
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