A dustblown primitive awash in the digitized city.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
David Carr, 1956-2015
It’s almost [as if] music is right next to smell in its ability to trigger memory, to put us in that place. How many times have you been riding along in the car, happy as a clam, wrong song will come on, and, baby, you are sad. You’ve got the blues.