i once lived for a year in an apartment complex, a brutalist social housing thing built in the 1960s. for all its desolation it was cheap and i was treated to a spectacular view of airplanes leaving the airport in the distance, very large windows that bled into the city. i was engulfed by the night for the first time.
being incredibly lonely for the first time in the city i decided to 'make a friend of horror', in the sense of abandoning myself to cheap 80s fare, the things that could be heard on the radio at 3 am. i wanted to embrace the city. my mental guide was a tune i had heard once on the radio but could not for the life of me remember who it was by. all i knew was that there were several voices over a sensual, drifting nocturnal thing, that it was probably a late 80s production, that was it.
so i played phil collins' in the air tonight, sade's i never thought i'd see the day, maxi priest's close to you. i discovered rude movements by sun palace, added some suicide to the mix. all of this was to me the music of the late shift.
i eventually left this place but i couldn't get that mystery track out of my head. i was beginning to think i had imagined it, abstracted it from different sources, but a few years later i found it. yes it's glossy, it's bloated, but it drifts magnificently. when i hear it i'm one with the thousands of people who toil away through the night, people who want to abandon themselves to sleep but can't, who lapse into sensual reverie. to me this is the sound of the city at night.