"Hell," said Jean-Paul Sartre, "is other people." I'd qualify that slightly. People are fine; it's their music that's hell.
When I moved to New York my first year was sheer bliss; I spent my second in the inferno. Just one thing changed: A couple of dedicated techno rave kids moved in next door. They played the same trance compilation from the moment they came into the apartment until the moment they hit the sack, and even sometimes all through the night.
Everything I did from that moment on was accompanied by the monotonously "exciting" sound of the same Roland TR-909 kick drum. Even my DVD of Derek Jacobi in the BBC's classic serial I, Claudius was transformed into a kind of 140 bpm 4/4 "trance television." Robert Graves became Robert Raves.
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