No one asked. I thought I’d share anyway.
My life is one long series of train journeys… that’s the idealised form of my life. My life actually is one long series of delayed train journeys, waits on a freezing cold Gatwick Airport station at 8pm while every 30 seconds an announcer warns us to take care on the slippery surfaces, and 35p rolls from Sainsbury’s (if I’m lucky) and Tesco’s (if I’m not). You think I want music that challenges me, that questions my lot in life, while I’m experiencing that? You’re crazy.
I want music that blocks out the mundanity, the braying city gents, the fumbled attempts at intimacy in the aisle, the announcements that once more Southern Rail have decided not to stop at any of the advertised stations between Haywards Heath and Littlehampton because the train is running late. I want music that helps me ride with Bowie out to the stars, that pokes sarcastic tongues at middle England sensibilities (all those fucking unread copies of that free London Tory rag clogging up our arteries), that can make me focus on nothing.
I want music to make me forget.
A couple of months back I realised that I quite liked the new Foo Fighters album. Then I realised that I wasn’t enjoying the new Foo Fighters album itself but the way it occasionally reminded me of albums by Paul McCartney’s post-Beatles band Wings that I liked. Then I realised that I only liked the new Foo Fighters album when I wasn’t aware I was listening to the new Foo Fighters album, that as soon as it intruded upon my consciousness I stopped enjoying it but in the meantime it was preferable to hearing someone have a three-minute coughing fit three seats down.
So, basically. The new Foo Fighters album is great if you don’t listen to it. I realise how damning that sounds, but it is a compliment (of sorts) – a way of acknowledging its ability to block the grey mundane and replace it with a sort of beige.
I have noticed that if you sing along out loud to Little Mix while listening to Glory Days on your headphones it makes other people on the 7.10pm train to Gatwick appear uncomfortable. (Could be worse. Could be Cardi B’s Gangsta Bitch Music Vol 1.)
Also, that lyric from ‘F.U.’ is my favourite lyric of the year (behind this, obvs).
Altogether now: “A-B-C-D-E-F-U”
Slight diversion. Angelic Milk are only not on my iPod because I have a feeling it would make me hurt too much to be reminded of their sweet promise each time I stumbled up against another B.O.-ridden office worker eying up the B.O.-ridden office worker with a cleavage down to there. They remind me of a section of my life which I have little to no recollection of (because of alcohol-induced blackouts that lasted years). Love the motorbike – and the Gucci connections darling! MWAH!
Here’s the list. If it ain’t on this list and I say I’m listenin’ to it then I’m lyin’. Unless of course I’ve been playin’ it in class or at home. Or unless it’s Angelic Milk.
I am a teenage girl at heart.