Friday

"So anyway I look across the room and I can see you sitting at the table talking to some random. You're smiling at me and I know you're starting to feel the tingle, the little shivers up and down the arms. I take a drag on my cigarette and try and focus on the conversation I'm having. A little difficult, made even more so by the appearance of Other-D on his hands and knees in front of the washing machine. A moment later he sticks his head in the drum and starts singing.

I step back a little from the chatter, at least mentally if not physically. I'm starting to feel each and every rumble of that bass, the tempo rising, the clitter clatter of the percussion. Meanwhile the sounds of the room start to move away from me, like I'm climbing upward through a tunnel. There's only the tune and me left and your eyes across the room clocking what's happening, just as it's happening to you. There's a taste of puke in my mouth as my stomach feels it before I do, then I'm going off like a rocket, over the top on the roller coaster and there's a whooshing in my head, ears, body. My skin spikes, and again, blue wireframe over everything.

I let it take me, like a leaf on the breeze, up and down and sideways. I feel like I need to hang on to something, somebody, anything. Instead I sway slightly and take a deep deep puff on my cigarette. Across the room you laugh a little, quietly and mouth the word 'jesus' at me. Other-D is still singing in the washing machine, the kick drum is getting faster, the ascending note over the top rising upwards, ever upwards. Then the roof goes off again. Main man D and his lady E start nodding their heads in time with each other and the waves. Then they look in my direction and smile, kindred spirits."

The Chemical Brothers - The Sunshine Underground