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Driving in, listening to Wes Montgomery’s Bumpin’ as the sun rose over the A64, I felt like I was in a film. The cool soundtrack continued for the next 38 miles, with Hammond organ, sax and, I kid you not, the occasional xylophone. Verve recordings are just made to be listened to in hot, sweaty weather.

Not sure what that film might be I’m in, though. Some disaster movie, I reckon, directed by the hopeless guy that did Independence Day. The soundtrack’s the best thing about it, all the cool kids’ll say, and they’ll buy the album at the box office’s expense. I’m having trouble writing about how I feel today.

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