Day 27: Subterranean Homesick Alien AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 LOUSY TUNES

Deftu’s citadel on the moon (I just love starting sentences like that) turned out to be really rather luxurious. If it was not for the constant piped music it would have been idyllic. After our conversation the alien returned to his job and gave us the run of the place. I found some foreign liquor which tasted a bit like sloe gin, only it got me drunk quicker. I guess some sort of fast gin then.

Anyway despite getting really rather sozzled, my duty to the Universe remained paramount in my mind. It did so also after a rather filling three course meal, some coffee and a nice long nap in a very comfy bed. I awoke the next morning with a determination to do something about The Listener. And I wouldn’t use guns, I wouldn’t use bombs I would use the one thing I had more of (than Jarvis Cocker even) – and that was straight out and out bastard sneekiness.

“Deftu,” I said walking in to what he called his listening room, and interrupting his intense concentration on some godawful Jem single. “Are you aware of self-actuated music?”
“Self-actuated?”
“The music made by someone listening to music.”
“Oh, you mean people singing along badly in their cars?”
“No, not really. The nature of living things is often to create a sympathetic harmonic with anymusic it is listening to. All you need is the right equipment to hear it.”
“What equipment?”
I took a long look at the large, state of an art we had not yet encountered stereo and nodded.
“Give me half an hour and I can rig this up.”

Half an hour was actually spent tracking down the worst possible record just so I could snare Deftu into my trap. I sent Crispian off for more gin while I was at it.

“Now you just sit there and I’ll attach this microphone to you. Now if you can think about your favourite music -”
“Radiohead,” he said both confirming steroetypes about their average fan and making me shudder.
“And then hopefully we should pick something up.”

Pick something up we did, a strange howling sensation that could only be feedback. Or a Mogwai B-side.

“How is that?” I said.
“Fascinating, how long does it go on for,” he shouted, and the squeal got louder (as I increased the mike sensitivity.
“Ooh, a while.”

I had to protect my ears as the piercing noise did all but destroy the sense of sound of Deftu and anyone listening out on his live, universe-wide feed. In its deafening unpleasantness it was not unlike being at MC5 gig. Finally I turned it off.

“Ringing,” Deftu shouted. “In my ears.”
“I know,” I said. “Its cheaper than an I-Pod. Its the secret music of truth,” I lied.
However Deftu seemed happy to just sit there listening to noises in his head. Thus I asaved the universe from music with just the help of a Mogwai B-side. Sometime you have to play dirty.