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Join me on a Self-Indulgent Nostalgia Trip...

I remember being a young loser working in the retail industry, stumbling home after a long day and collapsing into one of our saved-from-the-garbage-airport lounge chairs. For some weird reason, my housemates were out. (I say weird, becuase back then nobody actually had anything to do...)and so I pressed play on the Super Acoustic Turbo (SAT) Cassette Player. (The SAT was a button that, when depressed, made the tape player sound really shit. What a feature.)

Anyway, it started blaring out Miles Davis - ESP. The track was "Eighty-One". I lit a large spliff and just soaked it all up. At some point, I must've been inspired (for some brain addled value of inspired) to write something down, because towards the end of the album, Chris came over from next door and I remember him saying a big cheesy "Y-eee-aah Man...!" over my shoulder, looking at my notebook. There writ large in my handwriting, was the scrawl:
"Thank god for Mull and Miles Davis!"

I still feel the same about Miles' music (although not so much for the weed anymore)
The world is a better place with the music he left us.

I remember hearing Branford Marsalis say that the remarkable thing about Miles was that it sounded like every note was just for you - for your own personal satisfaction. I couldn't agree more.

Miles is like emotional morphine - cure for pain.

Take two shots of Kind Of Blue and call me in the morning...

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