Observer music magazine

Anybody else see this



Sunday January 23, 2005
The Observer

Gently, Warren types in his code and watches with his window down as the electronic gates open, so he can hear that clicking sound he likes so much as they fold back on themselves. He feels impregnable here in Clarence Mount, one of Surrey's better class of late Eighties-built gated communities. Bringing the BMW 7 Series to a halt, he goes through his routine. First, the placing of the spectacles neatly in their case. Next, the retrieval of the reserve M&S shirt from the hanger on the back seat; then, a final check of the hair - thinning now, almost to the point where the serbaceous cyst on his scalp is visible - in the wing mirror. Sure, there are more mirrors in the flat but what if Warren bumps into the lady he likes from 13b in the corridor - the one he thinks looks a little like Calista Flockhart?
Once inside, the first task of the evening - even before he opens his first bottle of Michelob - is to check on the work of Lynette, the cleaning lady. Everything seems to be in order, with the exception of a slight smudge of lipstick on his 'Work Is For People Who Don't Play Golf' mug (how many times must he tell her: 'If you must drink, bring your own receptacles, Lynette').

It's been almost three years now, but he still remembers the catastrophe that arose when her predecessor dusted a little too ferociously in the region of the stylus on his Nad turntable. Gives him shivers just thinking about it, although he wouldn't give that old Nad crudbox the time of the day now, not with his latest purchase shining in the corner: a Wilson Benesch Full Circle deck, to fit with his Moon Eclipse CD player, Krell FPB amp and £300 Nordost Solar Wind speaker cables.

One day he plans to retrieve his old vinyl albums from the storage container where they've been languishing since his divorce from Elaine, his former secretary, but he worries that his ultra-detailed system will only highlight their imperfections and put him in a testy mood.

Desperately lacking in the feminine touch, Warren's living space is a barren area. The sole hints at a three-dimensional human presence come from the Ally McBeal poster in the kitchen-diner and the 27 CDs, filed in order of purchase, beneath it. He might put on Dark Side Of The Moon, although if he's honest with himself, Warren prefers the later Floyd stuff after the rough edges came off.

Since leaving Elaine, with her irksome dried flowers, he has plunged his head deeper into work, and his motivational speaking firm has gone from strength to strength. Now when he hears about a new Calvin Klein aftershave, he need not hesitate before ordering it. Similarly, when he reads about push-pull EL34s and Mosfet outputs in hi-fi publications, it's no longer the stuff of sonic pipedream, but of soothing reality. Whole Saturday afternoons are now dreamed away in Bang & Olufsen, comparing anti-vibration properties. He's learned a lot, and as he listens to 'Parisian Walkways' by Gary Moore, he likes to think he can track the guitar solo all the way from the amp to the speakers.
Too much hifi and not enough music

 

:lol:

Michael.

 

he should thank elaine for leaving him!

 

Good to see middle england big tabloid dross once again bring a smile the faces of the masses

 

The guy could do with some speakers by the looks of it .

 

Spot on. Especially the Floyd bit.

-- Ian

 

did brett easton-ellis write that? can we expect 'british nutter' in the near future?
cheers


julian.

 

A Classic sideshow moment there folks