There is something special for me about listening to a certain song late at night speeding on a damp muggy highway when the world is empty but somehow menacing, with nothing in the whole universe other than me and the crickets and the electric promise of a coming dawn full of opportunity.

For some subset of the last generation of american youth (and maybe this one? I am too hopelessly old to know now) the personal automobile had a kind of almost shamanic importance and the CD collection was a not insignificant part of that.

The 'best' music is not the music that is most accurately rendered. It is music in the time and place where it most properly induces the distilled current of its meaning into your soul in a way that you feel its echos 30 years later.

For some people, that is in fact in a car.