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Well it certainly took me a while to get here.
Sheesh.

Classic Album: The Fat Of The Land, The Prodigy

An early start in the Smoke meant I missed out on a ‘welcome home’ run this morning. Hours later, tread-weary and commute-hardened I lumbered home, casting a jealous eye toward the fabulous turquoise of the evening sky. The penny dropped: an evening run’s a-foot! Chasing the sinking orange orb over the western hills into a slowly reddening sky. What a great way to unwind after a long day in the heartless City.

I strapped on my iPhone, dialing up a recently-downloaded edition of The Fat of the Land. Undoubtedly the best-known (and perhaps best-loved) Prodigy album this collection of fine drum ‘n’ bass tunes laced together with sampled harmonics and dance/ rave electronics creates a splendid soundtrack for an evening scamper. There’s a strong start from Smack My Bitch Up, a catchy little number that invites one to inject one’s somewhat loose-moralled yet romantically-inclined gal with heroin. It’s not all laughs and giggles though. Track two, Breathe, resonates with me, conjuring clear, happy memories of myself, Rog-Air and the mighty Moyleman, huddled in the girls’ bedroom in Paris. We chose Breathe as our Gone In Sixty Seconds/ Low Rider pre-race psyche-out track, ingesting the gut-twisting bassline, spat lyrics hissing through Tina's tinny speakers over intricate trip-clicking drums and crazily spiralling keyboards. It worked for me then as it did now, infusing my running with unusual urgency from the start.

I scaled Blackcap in record time. Diesel Power, Funky Shit and the chart-topping Firestarter added fuel to my running furnace, feet flying over the deepening shadows, finding firm footing on the slippery dew-kissed grass. I'm aware that The Prodigy won't be everyone's cup of tea but they do it for me, certainly in a running sense. I snapped some shots as the sun sank behind me, picking out the silhouette of sheep grazing under a crescent moon, horizon glowing gently like the embers of a softly dying day.

Chest heaving, brow flecked with sweat I arrive home grinning and breathless, revitalised after a day strapped into a whistle and flute, renewed by nature and the inherent dangers of twilight hill running.

Yes Keith, that was some funky shit

Good to see you weaning yourself off the heavy stuff and trying some gentler, old-peoples' music. You'll be on to Percy Faith before you know it.

This reminds me of a long time ago, when everybody suddenly started dancing in a strange way... I left the country not long after
welcome back to the place Sweder!