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Description
“Some satisfaction, some sweet satisfaction
From all of this everything, spun 'round the middle
And they said it was a lovely time”
(Tunng)

ONE

I've never been good at writing about myself... In fact, I've never been good at
showing signs to get really personal with people even if I wanted to... I guess it's because
of culture... I'm into music and films far too much. And living here, in London, the home of
bands like The Beatles or Pink Floyd and movies like “Love Actually” or “Notting Hill” has
made me “farther-too” idealistic – when it comes to friendship and when it comes to love,
too, I can't take measures because I think everything will work out by itself as it was sung
by or seen in one of the above mentioned. At least I haven't grown so old like Hugh
Grant... My hairstyle's better as well... At least I hope so.
So, I live here, accidentally and tragically enough just in that part of the city where
Hugh bumped into Julia. Markets and restaurants and fancy actresses don't bother me
however. And frankly speaking, I'm not interested in them either. Unless they're depicted in
great indie movies or songs. Which we can talk about at work – at HMV Oxford Street.
Yes, there have been a bunch of musical junkies at my school and in London generally,
who thought it was fun to take part-time jobs after graduation at a store they would buy
stuff from... (Even if they were starving they would put their happy hands on the new
album by the complete collection of Massive Attack albums and singles (CD, vinyl, doesn't
matter.. But original, that's the crucial thing) instead of buying any more than salamis,
butter and bread and mineral water.) That's how I got together with Bob and Andrew. (My
name's John by the way.) We make a great team, we are said to be the most up-to-date
shop assistants with the most definitive and useful opinion about CDs, books and movies...
If I was asked to give a similar “fantastic three” I'd say the trio of Barry, Rob and Dick from
Horby's book... Except that none of us owned nothing, we all were around 20 and -kinda
worst of all- we couldn't play our own tapes in the store.
But to hell with work, we have plenty of quality free time when we -obviously- go to
Odeon or rent movies... Sometimes -after another round of consuming nothing but another
round of the salami-water-bread, the financial holy trinity we go to some of the concerts
that are advertised in “NME” (Andrew is fond of alternative stuff. Truth is, I'm not snob
enough to realise the creative difference in most of those bands' music... But we had a
lovely time at the last Radiohead gig…I wonder who he will “discover” this year...),
“Kerrang!” (Bob's favourite magazine... oh, and he is lead supervisor at the Rock/Metal
section at His Master's Voice) and “Songlines” (world and traditional music... rather my cup
of tea).
So this is how I live my little life. There are many tourists in London and I'm sure I
myself am a stranger to some parts of the city as well, since I simply haven't
walked/driven/taken the bus to all the boroughs. But there are some places (near Royal
Albert Hall, for example) where I could stand all day long and guide everyone who pass by.
I even could've given Hugh and his company better directions when they were rushing to
the press conference of Julia...
Speaking about tourism, let me tell you about my last trip. When we get home from
our vacation, we tell everyone every last thing about it. Since I don't have so many people
around me here, and I rarely go abroad, my eagerness and my enthusiasm are sky-high.
Not only because of the joy of story-telling but also because it was one of my most
enjoyable and memorable journeys...

TWO

I've never been a hardcore fan of Mondays. If I was a wizard, I would turn them into
at least Wednesdays. (Sometimes Thursdays.)
Until then, I have to take the bus, get off at Oxford Circus and take the -literally- few
steps to enter the store and meet Bob right away. He's such a huge fan of “High Fidelity”
that he's made us “top-5-geeks” as well. The daily question he would ask was the following
on the 1st of July 2007:
'Morning John!' He was smiling in a way a five-year-old boy would if he was thrown
into a swimming pool full of nothing but candies. 'Give me a top-5 list of the acts you'd like
to see live!'
'Muse, K'naan, Tunng, Björk, Red Hot Chili Peppers.' I replied immediately. 'Why?'
'Look at this!' He was holding a brochure of the 2007 Roskilde Festival with twice as
big a smile I described above. 'And we're going!'
'Slow down man. How on earth?'
'HMV has given away free tickets and I've got three for us. You only have to pay for
the plane ticket. What do you say?'
'I say all right. Does Andrew know?'
'He's already googled for good Danish indie bands to see if they're in the line-up.'
'No surprises.'
The fact that I booked my ticket immediately I'd got home was not unexpected or
strange of me either. Actually, I was really looking forward to the whole thing, not only the
concerts but also the crowd, the new friends I'd make, and the feeling to be in another
country. Being abroad makes you partly another person. You become more relaxed by
repeating “I'm not at home, I don't have to worry about those things now.”
All in all, a trip to Denmark, the concerts, the different people... Everything should
be first class...

FOUR

...unlike our seats were on the plane. Rows and rows and rows, 4 seats each, kind
attendants, the chit-chat of people who were almost whispering in order not to disturb the
others (but this constant “shh” sound was even more bothering – for me at least), the
definite “flight-smell” which resembles the sterile one in hospitals. Maybe that's why people
are afraid of heights and flying. If your nose tells you're entering a hospital before anything
wrong could happen, you get excited. And it's not (just) the good kind of anticipation I'm
talking about. Fearful people sense the hospital-smell as an omen, let's just say that.
Well, if my nose could've sensed the smell that was awaiting me, I would even have
gone on foot instead of getting on. Let's just say that I have to quote the title of the lastest
album by Laurent Garnier to help describe the bloke next seat: “The Cloud-Making
Machine”... Some minutes later however Andrew showed up. He was coming between the
rows with such a delighted, yet malevolent grin... But I could tell what he was going to say!
It was the most Vangelis moment since the Paradise had been conquered and the chariots
of fire had dashed along the track. The piece of news he brought was indeed expected
and thus victorious for me: one seat next to Bob and him waiting just for me! So I just
moved to my new place and just before I could've continued listening to Nitin Sawhney,
Bob popped out a question:
'Aren't you curious how I got those tickets?' he asked.
'Promoters gave some to HMV so that a review of the festival would be published in
our free magazine. And we have to meet them... I wonder how they are.'
'What do you say if I say the name of the promoter is Liz? Liz Liz.'
Liz... That was the word which almost stopped my heart. This sentence was like a
spell. If Bob had told me, that we were going to meet Liz, I surely wouldn't have wanted to
go.
Liz and I met when we were in high school. There was this competition for those
who were really great at English and loved literature. I was sitting in front of her. I hate to
say romantic things, “but it was looove at first sight” as it would be sung by some
Australian. So I kept meeting her, I wouldn't say they were dates because we never got
together. There was a time though, when something more than friendship was going to
evolve. I would've really liked that and I was so happy and fulfilled. But when I wanted to
call this all a “relationship”, she turned me down and shortly after left for another country to
learn arts. (Apparently, Denmark.) I was so depressed that the only thing I wanted to do
was to watch anything (including the shopping channel and one about cooking) but
romantic movies, I didn't even go to work for one and a half weeks. That was the time
when we three got closer to be those “record shop lads”.
'Dear passengers, we're going to begin landing shortly. Please stay in your seats
and fasten your seatbelts!' the captain said. Good advice, I have to admit.

FIVE

After the plane had landed I didn't have the time to be amused by the huge airport
which was completely lit by the good ol' Sun (giving a marvelous glittering to the whole
building) or to buy enormous bars of Toblerone, we had to rush downstairs to catch our
train to Roskilde.
During the trip, there was nothing special, the only entertaining -and scary- thing
was that we all were afraid that we'd miss our stop because of the announcer's accent.
(Who would think they pronounce Roskilde 'hoskild'?) Fortunately, there were so many
signs saying “Festival – this way” that we could get off at Roskilde Station with no
problems.
Shortly after our arrival we were picked up by hip buses filled with “hipsters, flipsters
and finger-poppin' daddies” on it and in 10 minutes, we were There. A huge plain with
great stages and mind-blowing sound, great places to put our tents up... It was the Danish
Mecca of live music and our Kaaba was... the Orange. The emblematic stage similar to a
huge tent surrounded by bar stalls and marquees... And the enormous crowd of people.
This huge carnival of different cultures, genres, instruments, attitudes, histories, lyrics,
music, stage diving, bodysurfing, jumping, screaming, yelling, clapping, bowing, Björk,
Anthony, Flea, K'naan, Mike... It was like as if it was Noah's ark for the youth. One girl for
each boy. Bob and Andrew had already disappeared in the dark looking for their own ones.
(Girls, to be precise. These days you never know.)
I was just beginning to accept the fact that I would sleep alone in such a huge tent
we had there, but in all of a sudden, I caught sight of a familiar figure coming towards me,
waving, smiling... A shining shadow in the lightbeams that were originally intended to light
the way, not to cover the important details.
'Hey you!' I couldn't believe my eyes... It was Liz. As gorgeous, as casual, as lively
as she was when we were together. 'So you're among the ones among those from HMV,
aren't you?' Wasn't a difficult guess, since I was wearing a T-shirt with Nipper and the
gramophone on it...
'Y-yes.' I replied mumbling.
'Are you waiting for someone?'
'Actually, I'm here with two friends of mine but as far as I know, they won't show up
until next morning. They left me here and “no one came looking for me”.' I replied singing
the melody with the citation. (We used to play such games all the time.)
'Ah, so you're also into Tunng, good taste as always. Do you want to go for a walk?
There's a great DJ playing at Astoria.'
'Um, alright, great.'
So we went to Astoria, we were dancing, jumping, drinking, talking, dancing again,
shouting, all in all, it was the best party I've ever been at.
At the end of the set we sat down in front of the Orange, lay down, and that's how
the “One Perfect Sunrise” hit us... Floating in joy, happiness, freedom, memories, delight
and hope. Love was actually not around. But it didn't matter. WE were “around”. Again.

Description
“Some satisfaction, some sweet satisfaction
From all of this everything, spun 'round the middle
And they said it was a lovely time”
(Tunng)

ONE

I've never been good at writing about myself... In fact, I've never been good at
showing signs to get really personal with people even if I wanted to... I guess it's because
of culture... I'm into music and films far too much. And living here, in London, the home of
bands like The Beatles or Pink Floyd and movies like “Love Actually” or “Notting Hill” has
made me “farther-too” idealistic – when it comes to friendship and when it comes to love,
too, I can't take measures because I think everything will work out by itself as it was sung
by or seen in one of the above mentioned. At least I haven't grown so old like Hugh
Grant... My hairstyle's better as well... At least I hope so.
So, I live here, accidentally and tragically enough just in that part of the city where
Hugh bumped into Julia. Markets and restaurants and fancy actresses don't bother me
however. And frankly speaking, I'm not interested in them either. Unless they're depicted in
great indie movies or songs. Which we can talk about at work – at HMV Oxford Street.
Yes, there have been a bunch of musical junkies at my school and in London generally,
who thought it was fun to take part-time jobs after graduation at a store they would buy
stuff from... (Even if they were starving they would put their happy hands on the new
album by the complete collection of Massive Attack albums and singles (CD, vinyl, doesn't
matter.. But original, that's the crucial thing) instead of buying any more than salamis,
butter and bread and mineral water.) That's how I got together with Bob and Andrew. (My
name's John by the way.) We make a great team, we are said to be the most up-to-date
shop assistants with the most definitive and useful opinion about CDs, books and movies...
If I was asked to give a similar “fantastic three” I'd say the trio of Barry, Rob and Dick from
Horby's book... Except that none of us owned nothing, we all were around 20 and -kinda
worst of all- we couldn't play our own tapes in the store.
But to hell with work, we have plenty of quality free time when we -obviously- go to
Odeon or rent movies... Sometimes -after another round of consuming nothing but another
round of the salami-water-bread, the financial holy trinity we go to some of the concerts
that are advertised in “NME” (Andrew is fond of alternative stuff. Truth is, I'm not snob
enough to realise the creative difference in most of those bands' music... But we had a
lovely time at the last Radiohead gig…I wonder who he will “discover” this year...),
“Kerrang!” (Bob's favourite magazine... oh, and he is lead supervisor at the Rock/Metal
section at His Master's Voice) and “Songlines” (world and traditional music... rather my cup
of tea).
So this is how I live my little life. There are many tourists in London and I'm sure I
myself am a stranger to some parts of the city as well, since I simply haven't
walked/driven/taken the bus to all the boroughs. But there are some places (near Royal
Albert Hall, for example) where I could stand all day long and guide everyone who pass by.
I even could've given Hugh and his company better directions when they were rushing to
the press conference of Julia...
Speaking about tourism, let me tell you about my last trip. When we get home from
our vacation, we tell everyone every last thing about it. Since I don't have so many people
around me here, and I rarely go abroad, my eagerness and my enthusiasm are sky-high.
Not only because of the joy of story-telling but also because it was one of my most
enjoyable and memorable journeys...

TWO

I've never been a hardcore fan of Mondays. If I was a wizard, I would turn them into
at least Wednesdays. (Sometimes Thursdays.)
Until then, I have to take the bus, get off at Oxford Circus and take the -literally- few
steps to enter the store and meet Bob right away. He's such a huge fan of “High Fidelity”
that he's made us “top-5-geeks” as well. The daily question he would ask was the following
on the 1st of July 2007:
'Morning John!' He was smiling in a way a five-year-old boy would if he was thrown
into a swimming pool full of nothing but candies. 'Give me a top-5 list of the acts you'd like
to see live!'
'Muse, K'naan, Tunng, Björk, Red Hot Chili Peppers.' I replied immediately. 'Why?'
'Look at this!' He was holding a brochure of the 2007 Roskilde Festival with twice as
big a smile I described above. 'And we're going!'
'Slow down man. How on earth?'
'HMV has given away free tickets and I've got three for us. You only have to pay for
the plane ticket. What do you say?'
'I say all right. Does Andrew know?'
'He's already googled for good Danish indie bands to see if they're in the line-up.'
'No surprises.'
The fact that I booked my ticket immediately I'd got home was not unexpected or
strange of me either. Actually, I was really looking forward to the whole thing, not only the
concerts but also the crowd, the new friends I'd make, and the feeling to be in another
country. Being abroad makes you partly another person. You become more relaxed by
repeating “I'm not at home, I don't have to worry about those things now.”
All in all, a trip to Denmark, the concerts, the different people... Everything should
be first class...

FOUR

...unlike our seats were on the plane. Rows and rows and rows, 4 seats each, kind
attendants, the chit-chat of people who were almost whispering in order not to disturb the
others (but this constant “shh” sound was even more bothering – for me at least), the
definite “flight-smell” which resembles the sterile one in hospitals. Maybe that's why people
are afraid of heights and flying. If your nose tells you're entering a hospital before anything
wrong could happen, you get excited. And it's not (just) the good kind of anticipation I'm
talking about. Fearful people sense the hospital-smell as an omen, let's just say that.
Well, if my nose could've sensed the smell that was awaiting me, I would even have
gone on foot instead of getting on. Let's just say that I have to quote the title of the lastest
album by Laurent Garnier to help describe the bloke next seat: “The Cloud-Making
Machine”... Some minutes later however Andrew showed up. He was coming between the
rows with such a delighted, yet malevolent grin... But I could tell what he was going to say!
It was the most Vangelis moment since the Paradise had been conquered and the chariots
of fire had dashed along the track. The piece of news he brought was indeed expected
and thus victorious for me: one seat next to Bob and him waiting just for me! So I just
moved to my new place and just before I could've continued listening to Nitin Sawhney,
Bob popped out a question:
'Aren't you curious how I got those tickets?' he asked.
'Promoters gave some to HMV so that a review of the festival would be published in
our free magazine. And we have to meet them... I wonder how they are.'
'What do you say if I say the name of the promoter is Liz? Liz Liz.'
Liz... That was the word which almost stopped my heart. This sentence was like a
spell. If Bob had told me, that we were going to meet Liz, I surely wouldn't have wanted to
go.
Liz and I met when we were in high school. There was this competition for those
who were really great at English and loved literature. I was sitting in front of her. I hate to
say romantic things, “but it was looove at first sight” as it would be sung by some
Australian. So I kept meeting her, I wouldn't say they were dates because we never got
together. There was a time though, when something more than friendship was going to
evolve. I would've really liked that and I was so happy and fulfilled. But when I wanted to
call this all a “relationship”, she turned me down and shortly after left for another country to
learn arts. (Apparently, Denmark.) I was so depressed that the only thing I wanted to do
was to watch anything (including the shopping channel and one about cooking) but
romantic movies, I didn't even go to work for one and a half weeks. That was the time
when we three got closer to be those “record shop lads”.
'Dear passengers, we're going to begin landing shortly. Please stay in your seats
and fasten your seatbelts!' the captain said. Good advice, I have to admit.

FIVE

After the plane had landed I didn't have the time to be amused by the huge airport
which was completely lit by the good ol' Sun (giving a marvelous glittering to the whole
building) or to buy enormous bars of Toblerone, we had to rush downstairs to catch our
train to Roskilde.
During the trip, there was nothing special, the only entertaining -and scary- thing
was that we all were afraid that we'd miss our stop because of the announcer's accent.
(Who would think they pronounce Roskilde 'hoskild'?) Fortunately, there were so many
signs saying “Festival – this way” that we could get off at Roskilde Station with no
problems.
Shortly after our arrival we were picked up by hip buses filled with “hipsters, flipsters
and finger-poppin' daddies” on it and in 10 minutes, we were There. A huge plain with
great stages and mind-blowing sound, great places to put our tents up... It was the Danish
Mecca of live music and our Kaaba was... the Orange. The emblematic stage similar to a
huge tent surrounded by bar stalls and marquees... And the enormous crowd of people.
This huge carnival of different cultures, genres, instruments, attitudes, histories, lyrics,
music, stage diving, bodysurfing, jumping, screaming, yelling, clapping, bowing, Björk,
Anthony, Flea, K'naan, Mike... It was like as if it was Noah's ark for the youth. One girl for
each boy. Bob and Andrew had already disappeared in the dark looking for their own ones.
(Girls, to be precise. These days you never know.)
I was just beginning to accept the fact that I would sleep alone in such a huge tent
we had there, but in all of a sudden, I caught sight of a familiar figure coming towards me,
waving, smiling... A shining shadow in the lightbeams that were originally intended to light
the way, not to cover the important details.
'Hey you!' I couldn't believe my eyes... It was Liz. As gorgeous, as casual, as lively
as she was when we were together. 'So you're among the ones among those from HMV,
aren't you?' Wasn't a difficult guess, since I was wearing a T-shirt with Nipper and the
gramophone on it...
'Y-yes.' I replied mumbling.
'Are you waiting for someone?'
'Actually, I'm here with two friends of mine but as far as I know, they won't show up
until next morning. They left me here and “no one came looking for me”.' I replied singing
the melody with the citation. (We used to play such games all the time.)
'Ah, so you're also into Tunng, good taste as always. Do you want to go for a walk?
There's a great DJ playing at Astoria.'
'Um, alright, great.'
So we went to Astoria, we were dancing, jumping, drinking, talking, dancing again,
shouting, all in all, it was the best party I've ever been at.
At the end of the set we sat down in front of the Orange, lay down, and that's how
the “One Perfect Sunrise” hit us... Floating in joy, happiness, freedom, memories, delight
and hope. Love was actually not around. But it didn't matter. WE were “around”. Again.