The heat bubble has landed in the Pacific Northwest, and I'm currently sweating at 9:40pm-ish on a Sunday night, which seems quite unjust. After all, did we not move here to spend nine months out of the year in darkness and gloom, in damp and dank? I spent my childhood in the South, in 120% humidity, far away from any water. Just. Sweatin'. And hearing sweet, sweet soul music playing on a lot of radios.
Which leads me here, to this April 2005 giveaway from Mojo. Almost 20 years on, so many of these greats who then here are now gone: Tina Turner, Etta James, Little Milton, and Don Varner amongst them. Death comes for us all; I know this. But it really seems hard to believe that these giants no longer walk the Earth, that all I have left are increasingly soft-focus memories of backseat rides with the windows down, Sam & Dave playing on a tape deck, the smell of my granddad's Viceroy cigarettes and off-brand vodka and freshly tarred pavement.
The heat will break in a few days, the 90 degree noons disappearing for another year. And I'll file this one away in a box for storage for another decade or so. And all that will remain sharp are a few bars of the Mar-Keys, an Eddie Floyd chorus. And that's ok.
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