The Dogstar looms ahead... a pint of Guinness and a fish finger sandwich - the ultimate 'White Bread, Black Beer'. A little further down Coldharbour Lane, lies a recording studio, the air thick with diminished chords and popstar dreams. But we aren't heading that way today. Heading straight on down towards Brixton tube station.The unnecessarily attractive 'Militant' agitator selling a socialist heaven to an unforgiving commune of commuters. Dope dealers and Big Issue vendors vie for our attention. The morning crush and the evening throb clash in the spinning middle distance of memory. I could curtail this whole journey by simply turning right and heading down the escalator. But where is the fun in that?
A copy of Midweek under my arm. The rain mingling with the sunshine and snow. Shooting a glance down Electric Avenue, the smell of curried something blending in with the tang of rush-hour petrol. Sweet sounds drifting out of record shacks and ghetto-blasters again. The soundtrack of this, that and every other day... East of the River Nile, Club Classics Vol 1 and Technique...
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