At the time of my paramedic-training back in 1984 I looked a bit like a late hippy, though one with a preference for black clothing, military trousers and net-shirts, at the same time sporting long hair and a kind of Robin-Hood-beard. That is until I shaved it all off apart from a Freddy-Mercury-moustache, which was propably my worst decision ever. I was kind of inbetween scenes, knocking about with punks and „freaks“ at the same time. During the training I was the only one who would listen to punk in the morning. Once one of the real punks asked me how I put up with it after a long night. I did not really get it: To me the noise was like a good mug of coffee – something to push me forward into the day.
It still works. Listen to this: Isn’t that the ideal soundtrack to an energizing breakfeast?