Turn that bloody noise off

So, I was on my third Tube home tonight (I had to get a combination, due to the Underground strike) and there was a woman sitting next to me, busily telling her mate on the phone about:

  • How she was going to have to leave the band because her non-understanding manager wanted her to go to LA and record a song that isn’t ready.
  • And, anyway, she wants to do this other gig for a car company at some festival. And she’s going to get loads of cash for it. Amazing.
  • And the manager only mentions LA because it will make her come running. But not this time. Oh, no. In fact, she might even leave the band.

Yeah, you show them. And while you’re at it, leave the train, too – and take your loud, boring, self-indulgent conversation with you. Talking of self-indulgent musicians…

Prior to my two-year-old daughter being born, I used to waste hours cutting up existing records, making loops and creating new tracks. My wife hates them, which is the main thing: “Turn that bloody noise off,” would be her review.

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