The Forensic Records Society by Magnus Mills (Bloomsbury USA 2017)

 

The Forensic Records Society
 
‘I saw you!’
 

We listened closely. The voice sounded slightly remote, as if it came from an adjoining room. It was followed by a fuzzy silence.
 

James gazed at the turntable as it ground to a halt.
 

‘That’s Keith,’ he said.
 

‘You certain?’ I asked.
 

‘Yes.’
 

‘Not Roger?’
 

‘No.’
 

He played the record through for the third time. This was the agreed number of plays, so he then removed it from the turntable and returned it to its sleeve. As he did so he gave the label a cursory glance.
 

‘Fabulous music,’ he remarked.
 

I rose from my seat and went over to the window. Outside there was snow lying everywhere.
 

‘Do you realise,’ I said, ‘we were probably the only people on the planet listening to that?’
 

‘Surely not,’ replied James.
 

‘Just think about it,’ I continued. ‘They released it almost fifty years ago and it was a moderate success before disappearing without a trace. You never hear it on the radio these days, or anywhere else for that matter. The song was a deliberate joke: the lyrics are childish to say the least. They’re practically meaningless in English, let alone Chinese, French or Russian.'

 

“Marvellous ensemble performance nonetheless,’ said James.
 

‘Of course.'