Sometimes, you just need a bit of extra volume. Then a bit more.

Yet another chatlog, this time from earlier today when I was talking to Derek.

Matt:	balls to this
Matt:	it’s time for excessive volume
Matt:	excessive
Derek:	Daddy Cool?
Matt:	dunno
Matt:	what the hell should I listen to?
Matt:	I need something to perk me up
Matt:	but the instinct is empathic stuff
Matt:	which would probly be a bad move
Matt:	strategically speaking
Matt:	all I know is that I need chest-rattling volume right now
Matt:	and ideally some alcohol, but not until I pick up the car
Derek:	some Thin Lizzy?
Matt:	possibly
Matt:	not sure I want metal-like stuff though
Matt:	more stadium rock of the 80s
Derek:	Van Halen?
Matt:	more like it, but I’ve listened to Best Of Both Worlds too much lately
Matt:	maybe some Alchemy
Matt:	I’m talking about the kind of volume that gets the police called,
Matt:	then the police come round to tell you to turn it the fuck down
Matt:	but they can’t even get near the motherfucking house because it’s
Matt:	SO
Matt:	GODDAMNED
Matt:	LOUD
Matt:	that’s like the volume level I’m going to start at
Matt:	then it’ll go up
Derek:	[Derek consults his iTunes library; finds nothing.]
Derek:	[Derek selects the single most depressing song in his library to “Play Next in Party Shuffle”; balks at the irony of the appellation.]
Matt:	nice
Matt:	what song?
Derek:	a medley of Hallelujah and The Smiths’ I Know It’s Over, performed by the famously late Jeff Buckley.
Matt:	I am glad he’s dead
Derek:	personal reasons, or because it adds pathos to his oeuvre?
Matt:	his performance of Dancin’ in the Moonlight
Matt:	shameful
Matt:	seriously though, I need more volume
Matt:	much bigger sound system
Derek:	subwooferage?
Matt:	like the kind of volume that pushes you slightly out of phase with the rest of the universe
Matt:	so that folk can still see you, but you can walk right through stuff
Matt:	that is the kind of volume I’m talking about

These go to eleven.