I was in Birmingham this week, seeing a prospective client.
I knew that after the meeting I had time to go to a record store. Googled them and found Swordfish, not far from my meeting and only 7 minutes or so back to New Street.
Got there and there was the 'back in 5 minutes' sign pinned to the door. Lo and behold, 5 minutes later he appeared (Richard Beckinsale's love child) and he opened the door.
You get quite disorientated quite quickly in a record shop, working out the sections, what's used and what's new. In the background was a song playing, sounded like somebody banging dustbin lids through an echo machine and deep, foreboding lyrics.
Fucked about in the used section before my conscience kicked in and said 'you'll end up buying scratched records dickhead' and spied the 'new pressings section'. Sauntered over and started thumbing.
Pulled out Solid Air and I Want You, and queued up to pay. That same song I heard earlier was on repeat.
The refrain 'Black Reggae Music' has not left my head since about 3.15pm yesterday.
Black Reggae Music... š