The End.

Justin Berkovi -- Transit.
SLEEP: Talk Talk -- Spirit of Eden, Sturm -- Sturmgesten, Prick Decay -- Mic Gravy for Freek, The Cure -- Disintegration, Spectrum -- Highs, Lows, and Heavenly Blows. It was mostly Sturm and Spectrum as I tried to fall asleep. Two completely different portraits of loneliness, the first is menacing and uninviting, the second is warm and soulful.
Supersilent -- 6
Death in Vegas -- The Contino Sessions
Drugstore -- Songs for the Jetset (heard twice while eating lunch and walking around to score a ticket for The Ex and Han Bennink).
M83 -- M83. Boy, did they improve by leaps and bounds with their second album.
PJ Harvey -- Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea
Pulse Programming -- s/t.
Ae + Hafler Trio -- ae3o & h3ae. I must hear this again in a quieter environment than the workplace.
John Cale -- Hobosapiens. This was my first listen -- the electronic tracks are really strong ("Zen" = wow), the rest didn't grab me, but "American Idol" did come on halfway through the record.
Junior Boys -- Birthday ep. The problem with getting Fennesz to remix your stuff is that everything else you've done will pale in comparison.
Hallucinator -- Red Angel ep. Because "Red Angel" is god, as you must already know.
Suede -- Live at Astoria, London 13/12/2003. It would be easier to be teary around the subject of the "final" Suede gig if it'd had time to sink in before the speedy follow-up news of Brett and Bernard's renewed partnership. Expect the first video to be directed by Michel Gondry and each show to be punctuated by 15 minute versions of "The Ashphalt Life" accompanied by a string quartet and b&w film of flower-filled meadows awaiting the nuclear holocaust.
The set list was chill-inducing -- 27 songs, two hours, and heavily loaded toward the first three albums. As I hit play, I attempted to wipe my mind clean of horrid video and audio images I'd recently seen of live Suede on German TV. But it took under a minute for them to recall them. The first track "The Next Life", with Brett's voice laid bare over piano, was breathy, raspy, and winded. He couldn't hit the high notes with the gusto he once had. The momentum continued to sag with "She", as I began to contemplate the possibility of a retroactive dislike for Suede on the assumption of a similar plundering of the entire back catalogue.
But about five or six songs in, Brett hit his stride. Or the crowd hit their stride first, shouting along with every lyric (the sensical and the non-sensical). Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Suddenly, Brett sounded fantastic. He still sounded somewhat strained, but he was back on form from sheer force of willpower. Meanwhile, the audience was in a frenzy, and I was bopping around the apartment singing along as well. Near the end, he promised that there would be another Suede album -- I wonder if he thought at the time that Bernard could/would/should be on it?

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And that is that. A great ending to a great experiment. Conclusions? As I type this, I'm sitting in silence for the first time in seven days. It's a relief that I now have the option of having peace and quiet sometimes (particularly when trying to work) but the silence is starting to itch at me a bit so "Spirit of Eden" (still in the carosel from last night) will likely be played once I am done typing this.

Toward the end, playing music became less of a chore and more of a natural fact. That is, I didn't have to "remember" to play music, or take the discman out in the hall with me, I just did it. It was as natural as needing to "remember" to put on shoes when walking outside.

When I glance over the playlists, all I can think of is how I've barely scratched the surface. One week of music, and it only covers a small corner of the whole of the collection. Some albums were heard more than once (and not noted as such unless they were played at separate sittings) but that still leaves some 130-odd distinct hours of music. But there's a closet full of vinyl that was only used for three hours of playing time. There are CD's that I purchased at the hellmouth at the time I conceived of this "experiment" that I still haven't gotten around to hearing.

It was not hard to do this. In fact, it was far easier than I expected. I never found myself clamouring for a niche of quiet. It disrupted my normal life in minimal fashion. I was never in danger of losing my marbles. I would do it again. Maybe it should be an annual event.

I suppose I have no grandiose conclusions to make. I've been transparent with my thoughts, and the grand statements, if you could call them that, were mainly made in the first couple of days as I adjusted to my new routine. Once it became routine, i.e. a natural fact as termed above, there were fewer conclusions to make, because who makes life-summing statements about normal everyday activities like washing the dishes and making the bed?

"Spirit of Eden" is waiting.