his year flew past, I’m the kind of person who binges on several artists at a time, preferably quite different from one another, and then goes back later to feed on the scraps. Working my way through The Fall, Melvins and Whoo Kid (Lloyd Banks will outclass and ditch 50 Cent by the end of 2004) mixtapes at the moment.

I’ve also been obsessed with and have played the following singles over and over throughout the year, and was surprised at how many other folk seemed as enthused as I was; Sean Paul’s “Like Glue”, Darius “Incredible”, Justin Timberlake “Rock Your Body” and Red Hot Chili Peppers “Can't Stop”.

But the following are two moments that I’ll take with me for the rest of my life as defining some of my music listening throughout 2003:

We have a radio in the office at work and there are sometimes ‘debates’ over which station we should have on, as there are several age groups present. I never gave much thought to how the music affected the environment, I just wanted some decent tunes to get lost in or hum along to. Three or four months ago, during one long afternoon in which Debarge’s “Rhythm of the Night” was coming out of the ghettoblaster and it felt like all hell had broken loose; there was shouting across the office, clattering of spoons in mugs, people bawling out for phone numbers, erasers being launched across the room (I was passing it to someone!) and a general raucous commonly found in Railway stations or quayside marketplaces across the globe. All that was missing to make it a thoroughly debauched affair was a Super Soaker, a six pack of beer, some Vaseline and a packet of industrial staples. As the song abruptly ended, the DJ just managing to avoid scratching the CD on laser, and when the next song appeared (“Come away with Me” by Norah Jones) I swear it felt like a physical lull had come over the room; people sat down and literally no one spoke till the song finished.

The BBC recently ran a documentary by John Simpson (a veteran British world affairs reporter), who got caught up in an infamous friendly fire incident. In the aftermath of this raw handheld blood splattered sickeningly brutal footage was its compete reverse; footage of Baghdad’s empty streets and Simpson looking out over Saddam's marching ground from his pulpit. Accompanying this reflective section was Eno's “An Ending (Ascent)”, just about my favourite piece of music ever recorded. Ever. It’s just incredible, and no matter how many times I hear it and whatever the circumstances it remains as affecting; Benecio Del Toro investing in the future in Traffic, the picnic from 28 Days Later or the NSPCC advertising campaign.

But, in the end, 2003 is more of the same. In fact, it’s ended the same way every year does: a bloody huge pile of books from a sometime Sunday haunt, a pile of undigested CDs, music biogs all over the bastard shelves and a hard drive full of music. Oh, and I got that England’s Hidden Reverse book by David Keenan for my birthday; a must read.