The Long Echo of Old Songs and the Pull of Who We Used to Be
Music has a sneaky way of time traveling without asking permission. One minute you are folding laundry or scrolling your phone, the next you are seventeen again, pressed into the corner of a gym, trumpet case at your feet, wondering if the drumline is ever going to count off. The older we get, the stranger it feels that those versions of us are still alive somewhere, triggered by a chord…