Put it up to eleven
Sometimes, you just need a bit of extra volume. Then a bit more.
Yet another chatlog, this time from earlier today when I was talking to Derek.
Matt: balls to this Matt: it’s time for excessive volume Matt: excessive Derek: Daddy Cool? Matt: dunno Matt: what the hell should I listen to? Matt: I need something to perk me up Matt: but the instinct is empathic stuff Matt: which would probly be a bad move Matt: strategically speaking Matt: all I know is that I need chest-rattling volume right now Matt: and ideally some alcohol, but not until I pick up the car Derek: some Thin Lizzy? Matt: possibly Matt: not sure I want metal-like stuff though Matt: more stadium rock of the 80s Derek: Van Halen? Matt: more like it, but I’ve listened to Best Of Both Worlds too much lately Matt: maybe some Alchemy Matt: I’m talking about the kind of volume that gets the police called, Matt: then the police come round to tell you to turn it the fuck down Matt: but they can’t even get near the motherfucking house because it’s Matt: SO Matt: GODDAMNED Matt: LOUD Matt: that’s like the volume level I’m going to start at Matt: then it’ll go up Derek: [Derek consults his iTunes library; finds nothing.] Derek: [Derek selects the single most depressing song in his library to "Play Next in Party Shuffle"; balks at the irony of the appellation.] Matt: nice Matt: what song? Derek: a medley of Hallelujah and The Smiths’ I Know It’s Over, performed by the famously late Jeff Buckley. Matt: I am glad he’s dead Derek: personal reasons, or because it adds pathos to his oeuvre? Matt: his performance of Dancin’ in the Moonlight Matt: shameful Matt: seriously though, I need more volume Matt: much bigger sound system Derek: subwooferage? Matt: like the kind of volume that pushes you slightly out of phase with the rest of the universe Matt: so that folk can still see you, but you can walk right through stuff Matt: that is the kind of volume I’m talking about
These go to eleven.
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