The presumption of the beat


Then I found myself in the lift of the W on Washington square in New York. Another fucking hotel that thinks it’s a nightclub. Not as bad as the Soho grand where a spiteful Japanese DJ once greeted me from behind his haircut as I lugged my suitcase up the stairs looking about desperatly for a recognisable reception. Now in the W my ears are assailed by generic good times house music. I flash on coming down in the same lift, listening to the same music on my way to a big meeting. The music is designed for people who have very now meetings to attend, about either the commercial exploitation of whatever will replace U-Tube/My Space, or a presentation of the layout for the graphics of confidential global corporate rebanding project. The music brings you up. Up to the speed of the rarified world we all aspire to. It is a gutted, refurbished version of the music that used to dovetail with ecstasy to take you out of it. Now it takes you into it, zooms you into an emotional space from which you feel confident enough to suceed. A place from which to ooze confidence and contemporariness. They have done to music what developers have done to old buildings, the only original feature being the sampled slap and bass of the beat, a relentless metronomic upbeat, a death defying self centred thrum. Exiting the lift, heading for my room with it’s inevitable plug in Ipod speaker unit attached to the stereo awaiting me, I cherished the silence of the corridors and remembered fleetingly the startling disorientation and uplifting giddiness of my first E rush all those years ago to a very dissimilar similar beat that presumed only on my youthful inquisitive desire to experiament.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 License.

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One Comment to “The presumption of the beat”

  1. they have done such a fucking number on us.

    for better or worse music has always meant so much to me. indeed it has been my main source of visceral expression. sing my emotions for me will ya?

    but it has all been appropriated by the fat cunts upstairs. horrible groovy management pogoing up and down in the boardroom to career opportunities by the clash and absolutely not getting how sick that is

    it wasn’t meant to be like this.

    i remember the thrill of seeing the sex pistols on the grundy show how they were absolutely not supposed to be on my televison. the chance of this clash of personality and place has has all but been removed now god save the queen is pumped into gap as we shop for our cashmere sweaters.

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