Tonight at the party, we were sitting in a corner with the karaoke blasting, talking about the first songs we ever remember hearing, and the first gigs we ever went to. Someone mentioned seeing Suede perform live in their early days circa their first album, and remarked how fantastic they were on stage, surpassing what they did on their records. He mentioned The Drowners. My first ever gig was Suede. I was sitting in the very last row, with my cousin, on a schoolnight, my eye on that little figure at the keyboards who'd saunter offstage mid-song, like he didn't give a damn. They really were electric. They really did put up the best shows. I've never been to a concert by any other band or performer that leaves me feeling as inspired.

I did a phoner with the lead singer yesterday. I hung up after 15 minutes smiling to myself in the shuddery, ecstatic way you get when you make a connection with someone who means everything to you. But what strikes me more today is how frightened I am by the passing of time. Life changes so quickly, and the soundtrack to it expands alongside at an exponential rate. One minute you're a 15-year-old embarking on a sentimental education and the next minute your musical palate has evolved so much, you're leaving it behind, only returning to it when the mood strikes. 

I know I'm not the only one who feels nostalgic. My brother today bought a white BMX, just like the one he used to ride as a kid. These, I guess, are the things we hold on to deep down inside. There is much that I dearly miss.