Dear Ms Swift, First let me congratulate you on aiming your gorgeous and pricy designer sandal to kick Apple Music in the Bramleys. Taylor Swift, you are a flaxen haired end-of-level-boss, Kerpow! A spindly but mighty gladiator, Thwack! You unleashed the hell dogs of 300 sweaty lawyers and a sprinkle of tweets to do battle to secure what was truly your birthright; your royalties for three months of Apple Music streaming. But have I a bone to pick with you and your talented musical chums. I’m guessing your earliest musical purchase didn’t involve a bus trip to musty high street retailer Our Price to buy your first ever vinyl (Off The Wall by Michael Jackson since you ask), only to purchase it again on cassette, later on CD, again through iTunes and a myriad of streaming services (don’t even get me started on compilation albums). I dare say when the ability to download music straight to a widget in your brain finally arrives, it will have me purchasing the same track listing yet again, paid for this time in synaptic MindCoins. “I just don’t agree with perpetuating the perception that music has no value and should be free,” you argued [...]