B
ack in 2003, I was still in my hard rock phase. I listened to only the most aggressive and masculine of rock. I played in a band that mainly sang about partying, sex, drugs and other raucous activities. I hadn’t yet discovered my softer side and my love of sad and melancholy music. So, when I became obsessed with Dido’s album Life For Rent, it surprised even me. Of course, I didn’t tell my bandmates or anyone else at the time. That would have ruined the image I thought I was carefully curating of a carefree party animal who was more likely to burst into flames than to listen to some introspective songs about lost love and loneliness. Nevertheless, I listened to this album constantly when no one was around. Not even the collaboration with Eminem and its ever-present sample could ruin it for me.
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