Music is, bit by bit, vanishing from my life. This is a very great surprise to me, but I don’t imagine I’m alone. I remember my father, at about the age I am now, becoming tetchier and tetchier when we played music in the car: it was endured, just about, on the motorway but the moment that parallel parking, or similar, was involved it would be smartly turned off. My late uncle was even infuriated by music on television documentaries.
Now I’m going the same way. “Bird Dream of the Olympus Mons,” “Sugar Kane,” “Higher State of Consciousness”—even, God help…
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