Matthew Sheret

Because, bleary eyed, every day starts with a tiny scream. Not many people hear it, sometimes only me, and it says ‘nowhydoihavetodoanythingwhynoargh’. Sometimes though, I’m smart.

I used to wake myself up with huge bouncy pop songs, bleating out of my computer so I launched out of bed. I wasn’t doing it for too long before I ran out of different tracks, and hoping that waking up to broadcast radio just doesn’t do the same thing. It doesn’t. For every ‘Can’t Get You Out Of My Head’ you might wake up to there’s a ‘Wish I Stayed’ that would make the day a thousand times more miserable.

So, stretching the definition of radio again, maybe I don’t want to wake up to something like that. Too risky. Maybe I want to wake up every day plunged into a live show. A kind of physical reenactment radio. The most lively, huge, fun and relentless cheerful live experience I’ve had was Daft Punk in Hyde Park. Mark and I left feeling like we could – should? – be running around the city for weeks afterwards, tearing about the streets like superheroes. It’s a feeling I could wake up to a thousand times without getting bored, launching off in an exploding light show and capturing the city by force.