I remember when my parents played The Beatles to me, asking if I could distinguish the voices of John and Paul. It was an impossible feat for me at that time as I heard music and song as a uniform and dynamic sonic entity. It was not until my early teens that I was able to distinguish properly the different instruments and voices that made up a song. At that time, I was entering audiovisual culture with attention and admiration, listening to more music, watching documentaries, collecting posters, recording music off radio to audio cassettes, buying CDs, flipping through booklets, photographs, album artwork, and so on. Later still, I came to prefer the time-afflicted second-hand LPs with the hisses, cracks and sellotaped dusty covers that left my fingers dry. The ‘sonicity’ of music is deeply affected by visual elements, and it is a door to imagine the past. For example, 1960s music documentaries are still one of the pervasive visual referents of the flower-power subculture, just as black-and-white WWII footage is decisive for imagining what that past ‘looked like’ and how it ‘sounded’. For a long time, I thought that before WWII people walked at a slightly faster pace, clearly a mediatised effect of Chaplin's gags.