As Mojo issues go, this was a tough one to beat. I can still remember grabbing this off the shelves at Atomic Books, drawn in by an entire CD curated by Tom Waits. Hell yeah! Even if I only knew about half the artists, I'd still be into it. Definitely worth the high dollar import price.
In retrospect, I'm mad I didn't hold onto the other freebie Mojo Presents CD's that I'd encountered in the wild up to that point. It's not like I was short on space, or one of those "let's sell all my CDs once streaming became a thing" people. Yet I cannot for the life of me recall hanging onto any of that crossed my path until this one. I popped it into the CD player in the Civic, rolled down the windows on one of the first nice days of the year, started singing along with Tennessee Ernie Ford and Ray Charles. I threw it on the stereo at home once I arrived there, jaw agape as I heard Gavin Bryars for the first time, and listened to Burroughs recite a song I'd heard sung by Dietrich. When I reached the end, I was greeted by Cliff Edwards, singing a song I'd known since childhood. It all felt like a blanket of song that had always been there, so long as I was willing to wrap myself in it.
