In the wee hours of the morning I tried to wind down from my return trip by grooving to Carl Craig. Then I moved on to early recordings by Cabaret Voltaire and the second Pole record. This morning I jogged to The Field and a 1930 montage of ambient sounds put together by German film director Walter Ruttman, the director of Berlin: Symphonie einer Großstadt. Then I came home and exercised on the trampoline to songs compiled by David Scott for his excellent presentation on the history of disco at the Experience Music Project's Pop Conference. Eventually, I was overwhelmed by the need to revisit the 1970s through my own nostalgia, and put on Chic's Greatest Hits, which I'm hearing for the second time on auto-repeat. I've skipped "Good Times" so far, though, because I want to postpone that bliss until I'm ready to lie back on the pillow and light a cigarette. I think that time has nearly come.
This is one hell of a song, even if it is the musical equivalent of the movie Body Heat. Or was, at any rate. Since Corinne Bailey Rae recorded it, her husband passed away from a drug overdose, retroactively transforming it from a lovely exercise in nostalgia into a heart-breaking plea for a future that has already passed its expiration date. Take the time while you have it, as Andrew Marvell eloquently advised, because the untimely is always waiting in the shadows to steal your heart.