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So I'm sitting in front of a beige screen surrounded
on three and half sides by light blue fabric walls and
the constant hum of environmental control dulls all
sounds of life. As my passions and dreams are slowly
sucked away I fumble through the pile of CD's I've
brought to work with me, blindly open a case, push the
eject button on my computer's cd drive and drop in a
disk. I hear the whir of gears and for a moment the
screen freezes up and then, without warning, I'm
transported back in time. Back to the dawn age of
cool. The ivories are tinkling, brushes are
confidently dusting across the traps and suddenly my
world gains an edge, a dirty, smoky, sweaty, alcoholic
edge.
Over the next hour I live in a world where
Frank, Sammy and Dean are king and Johnny Vegas is the
gold-suited chauffeur who brought me here. His
interpretation of songs that would have made me vomit
in my Led Zepplin-inspired teens still stink but
coming from Johnny the stink is good. I'm on the
road, I'm on the Love Boat, I'm at the Copacabana, I'm
flying to the moon and life is good again.
Sing on
Johnny, sing on my saviour you've peeled back the
plastic lid on my Tupperware life.
I've seen the
light, I'm free again.
•Mike Lawson (TuneVault.com Staff) Email
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