My love for music is lost in the nineties from the days of shoegazer and indie rock to Britpop.
It’s so easy for me to become lost in a haze of spangly or churning guitar, or dreamy keyboards that float over me.
Those memories draw me back to being in the sweaty back rooms of pubs or music venues where I’d either sway on the spot or jump about with my mates as the music demanded.
On Saturday mornings, the first thing I did was hop on my bike and pedal to the local music shop. Then, I’d rifle through the stacks of records looking for that rare gem. If the house was empty when I returned, I’d play my music the way it was intended: very, very loud!