It was a great evening. Five hours of highway driving behind me. I’m not favouring cd over lp or lp over cd, but tonight I’m a sensurroundist, and what Steven Wilson delivers with his 5:1-lossless mix, is miraculous for all the details revealed on a multi-channel-mix that is true to the original version. I wouldn’t even have heared the police if they were banging on the door. I think the house has been empty tonight except the big circus in my room, the distorted guitars, the disembodied singing, the madrigal-like ballad, the cacophonic jazz-outbreaks, the tough seconds between furor and acoustic balladry. Not to forget the oddest time signatures, the freewheelin‘ lyrics and the end of the show – when all that has happened it dissolves into mist and vagueness (early child’s memory). On a caroussel that turns and turns and flies away. My night drink: Rooibusch Tea from Sylt. Masterclass King Crimson album. Lark Tongues In Aspic will be tomorrow’s loudest meditation.