A few summers ago, my friend Ryan and I drove the 40 mins down to Westfield, where I had lived and worked for a little while before an epic crash in which I was fired for drinking at work, and then spent the next few months unemployed and a recluse, only leaving my room to go to the liquor store. We were going to visit my friend with whom I had worked and kept in contact with. I think we met her at some awful cafe where a lot of kids probably pumping Norma Jean through their ill-fitting, terrible sound quality earbuds hung out. A forgettable experience to say the least. Afterwards we grabbed a couple six packs with my fake ID which I still had at the time, and went up to a golf course to put em down. It was perfect drinking weather. I hadn't started smoking yet, but it was the kind of weather when cigarettes taste the best. That summer I had three albums in heavy rotation: the first two Hold Steady records and "Grace". The warm tone and almost distant sound fits in well with the summer. One of my favorite things about music is the way it just naturally becomes a soundtrack for certain times or activities, though I'm not sure if it's due to the sound or to the listener.
Jeff Buckley - "Grace" (1994)
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