Wednesday, February 18, 2004

Some nights are better than others. Most are bland, but some nights imprint themselves in your internal VCR, intact, clear as if it was just last night or last week, and, invariably, they come back, flashback, like the sudden violence of the pause button.

You could be in a subway station, walking down stairs, listening to your headphones, and then boom (BOOM!), you're back. You're in a dark room, there's two hundred people you don't know all around you. You're not afraid because.. Because there's a band playing. The softest, calmest, drones you've ever heard. They ride the air like birds, swim like fish. Your chest is a subwoofer.

A few multi-colored lspotlights crisscross each other at the front of the stage. A disco-ball spins, glitters, shoots laser-lights on the walls, the crowd. Everyone is swaying, mostly, in rhytym. A few people stand stoic like Vulcans, obviously not enjoying themselves, (you don't look at these people.) The band look like they're having the time of their lives. They're feeling the music. You're loving the music.

You're listening to The American Analog Set. You're having a good night.

Album of the Day: AmAnSet - Promise of Love

(much love.)

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