But that doesn’t mean I’ve ever been fully converted. I can tolerate most electronic music. I even genuinely like some of it.
But after a day or two being assaulted by ooncha ooncha from what seems like every goddamned corner of the earth, I inevitably find myself craving good old rock’n’roll – hell, I’d even settle for some whiny folk music – the way I used to crave real Mexican food when I lived in Portland (land of white cheese, black beans, and whole wheat tortillas. Good? Sure.
But Mexican food? Hardly.
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