The first time I heard Avicii was seven years ago. In the shower. I remember feeling the water, then the music. It hit me with a rush, filling up my body with every beat, pulsing inside me to the point where I couldn’t distinguish between the rhythm and my own heartbeat. I began dancing on the slippery wet white porcelain, not caring if I slipped and fell. My body had to MOVE, caution be damned: That’s what inspired music does. It makes you fucking FEEL something. In the din and drudgery of day-to-day life, amidst the struggles and suffering, uncertainty…