Sometimes, music pleases me so much that my body actually responds to it of its own accord.
I love that!
I just played a live version of Robbie's Angels from Knebworth back in 2003. Yes, it has become a tad cliched now every chav in the universe wants it played at their funeral. Yes, he has disappeared up his own bum a little in the past few years.
But even taking all of that into account, when he says "Knebworth, thank you" and the backing band bursts into the instrumental version as he leaves the stage, the crowd screams and all the hairs on my body suddenly snap to attention. How does music do that?! It's brilliant!
It's not the fact that somewhere in that screaming crowd is me, grinning to my best mate Sarah and swaying in time in the summer dusk. It's not that I want to become Mrs Williams, or even that I wish it was me up there on stage in front of 335,000 adoring fans.
It's just a brilliantly evocative song and never performed better than at that moment. Like music rocks... and my body seems to agree.
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