A slimy grey morning and the damp cold nibbles what shows of my ears (the rest being hidden by headphones). I’m on the way to work, this time via South Gosforth.
If I could dance, I’d dance to this. There’s a peculiar heft and a sway to it that catches me out every time, a little like you’re streaming James Brown but the buffering is slightly off. There’s an electric piano, some funky wah-wah guitar, and several horns (this is the 1970s after all) and if you could just lay back far enough it would probably carry you on its back. Or is it just making me think of a tiny, sweaty nightclub? In spite of the weather, in spite of the onset of work, here I am grinning. If you don’t know this stuff, do catch up.