Listening to music without experiencing the feeling of bass in your body

is like swimming in a puddle, or having sex with a mannequin, or eating pasta with no sauce, or seeing a rainbow in black and white, or smelling an artificial bouquet of flowers. Yet, it’s everywhere. In casinos, in many of our cars, in the elevator, in your office, in the lobby, on the phone, in the stores… It’s everywhere! Cheap, weak, ineffective noisemakers. Tin cans for speakers. Playing the same old bullshit we’ve heard for years. It makes me nauseous. It moves no one. All it does is fill the air with flaccid waves of audible atrocities.

When canned music is raining down upon me as I walk through the corridors, I feel as though they are slapping me in the face with presumed complacency. Audible satiation does not occur through tweeters and mids alone.

I want to be moved, I want to feel my music.

Vibrate me.

Shake me.

Reverberate me.

Move me.

Engage me.

Don’t put me to sleep.