The Knife – Neon

Sometimes music and your surroundings are so incongruous, so ill-suited, they work perfectly together.  The time and the place become irretrievably meshed in your mind with the song, the rhythmn, the beat, that you cannot seperate them ever again.  The song then, becomes your memory – for better or for worse.

The first time I heard this record, I was on a night-bus in India, lying on a sleeper berth, next to you.  It was April – meaning it was repressively hot and humid, but with the sun down and the window open, we were washed with a constant wind that almost left me cold. After 6 months of heat, it was deliciously novel, and I cuddled into your shoulder.

You handed me an ear bud and we dozed and rocked with the bus.  You told me that this was one fo your favourite records, and hit play.  From the first strains, the first beats, her voice, I was mesmerised.  Even now, it all brings me back to you, to that bus ride.  When I realised I was falling in love with someone who I knew didn’t quite love me back.  I was listening to the prelude of my own heartbreak.

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