Weird stuff can happen in a minor key too and so this is a story of something slightly puzzling and odd yet not likely to harm the space-time continuum.
Let's get to the end first. I enjoyed listening to Rick Astley this afternoon.
I got into the car and headed off and the radio, still tuned to BBC Radio Bristol from the morning, played a pumping bass and kick drum sound that could only come from the eighties. You know the sort of thing that peaked with Zang Tumb Tuum.
In the eighties I loathed Rick Astley. Yet the bands I enjoyed such as Level 42, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Go West and even Nik Kershaw, employed exactly the same soundtype. It was mainly distributed by Stock Aitken and Waterman.
I guess when every song employs identical production techniques and values you can make a comparison, although I secretly suspect that there were other reasons I didn't like Astley - appearance, being a solo singer without an instrument and being promoted by same SAW troop, plus guilt, by association with Neighbours' stars Kylie Minogue and Jason Donovan.
Anyway, take the record out of the eighties and deposit it in a rain-soaked Bristol suburb of an October afternoon and, blow me (excuse me) if it didn't sound half decent.
I'm off to give myself a good talking to now and to play something a little more demanding, but I thought you ought to be told.