Going Over the Old


Just the title of this post gives away my age, I guess.  Nobody born after, say 1990 wants anything but the latest.  Too bad, really, since I find that works of prior eras reveal aspects of my own past, not necessarily because I knew them when I was younger.  It is an exercise in examination, in recognition.
Perhaps that explains my fascination with boredom, which keeps coming up in my blog. I used to have a zero tolerance for repetition; now I find it fascinating.  Maybe it's because there is no such thing in real sound.  (Those backing-up beeps and other annoying audible danger signs don't count as real.) 


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