You had nothing on you by my bedroom door.

Exactly nine years ago, on April 7th 2005, I went to see a show by a Swedish band we had started listening to a few weeks earlier. They played a gig in Strasbourg, which is only a short drive away, so me and my two best friends got into my car and drove there. We thought it might be kinda cool. We went inside, the lights went out and about two hours later, we had become insane.

It's been nine years now, nine years of driving to concerts 500 miles away, nine years of buying everything they ever released, nine years of spending more money than strictly necessary on trips to festivals. Trips, during which we slept in my car (which was tiny) and had breakfast at the side of the Autobahn. We knew every song by heart, had our own private release party for one of their albums, wrote their song lyrics in our diaries (as one does, when 19 years old and pathetically overwhelmed by emotions...). We were obsessed! I mean, I had their goddamn band logo tattooed on my ankle, for crying out loud! (Kids, don't get a tattoo when you're under 20. Just don't.) We got leather jackets, exclusively fancied guys in skinny jeans (still do, by the way...) and started using the words "rock'n'roll" in everyday conversations.

And even though I no longer have to listen to them every single day and don't start squeaking and screaming when someone mentions their name, I am still truly grateful for having discovered them.

Without this band, I wouldn't know my closest friends, I would never have started to work in a record shop, never gotten as obsessed with music as I am now. Without them, I would have missed out on many adventures and not experienced a bunch of incredible, amazing, batshit crazy stuff.

So, thanks guys. I know you're into techno music now, but: long live rock and roll. Yeah Yeah Yeah!

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