Music is intrinsically tied to my work. If I’m hammering out a piece, I’ll have something with some of the energy or emotions I’m trying to capture blasting out. This afternoon, while working on an Escapist piece about the joy of intelligent people revelling in being gloriously stupid, I’m listening to This Corrosion on repeat. In my multitasking manner, I lob in a review CD of something I’m going to be looking at next and click install.
Immediately, my listening pleasures of Andrew Eldritch rocking out with his metal pole is turned into an ugly cacophony as the install program decides to plays its own music too.
This isn’t on.
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