Studio. Ssssstudio. Stew-Dee-Oh. A sibilant piggybacked by a plosive and capped with a surprise. If ever a word has played around my palette too long it’s that one. Why? Because in my art school coterie it was often the culmination of our interminable, late night ruminations on our future: ”Yeah … get down to London … start designing records … set up a studio”, we’d pronounce, with an air of authority we didn’t feel.
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