That motorik beat, the syncopation of the ambient pulse, the helium vocal, the filter whispers, the pitter-patter hi-hat, the bass drop in the chorus with that anthemic wall of texture, the woozy synth melody, the propulsion, the stepwise clock, the break with the ambient electric piano, the echo delays, the starstreamer sweeps, the overdrive wah, all that reverberation, the utter haze with clarity...
Yes, I do love every bit of this. For me, absolute perfection.
Twenty years ago, this was ace to play while driving on Lake Shore Drive on a Friday night in Chicago. The cars would be packed bumper-to-bumper and we would be doing 90mph. If anyone fucked up, there would be a multi-car pileup, but it always flowed like water. Cops and cars, all nestled and gunning it.
That was a few years before diagnosis, but post sobriety, so I was chasing it like the stim junkie I am, albeit without drugs. The music, and the risk, provided the bzzzt necessary to wake me up. I felt acutely alive and present.
Anyway, this, loud. Sink into, and spring forth. Twenty-one years ago, pop music sounded like this.