I'm stranded on the vortex floor

Being in London triggers a million synapses for any rock music fan, and it's apparently no different for New Yorker critic Sasha Frere-Jones. I thought it was funny that he had the same reaction as I did years ago: walking around Soho, it's impossible not to hear the Jam's "'A' Bomb in Wardour Street" playing in one's mind. (Of course, when I lived in London in the summer of 1999, the Admiral Duncan - a gay pub - was nail-bombed and the "Hate Bomb, Hate Bomb, Hate Bomb, Hate Bomb" line took on a chilly resonance.)


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