Mirages

Rolling vectors spill across the shimmering surface of the game grid, your vessel moves silently over the face of the waters.

This time of year — when late autumn begins giving way to the dawning chill of winter — often takes me back to the year 2001, a swirling vortex of electronic jazz and machine soul.

Remember when summer vacation would stretch deep into the heart of August, those long, hot days when steam would rise from the asphalt and intermix with the urban haze?

Summer in full swing, electronics in the system, the bug in the bassbin. Triggered breakbeats and rhythm boxes in full effect. "Theme From Hot Burst" by Yage.

"Once we get out of the 80s, the 90s are gonna make the 60s look like the 50s." There was a sense that the table had been set for the coming decade.

The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. The view stretches from Chicago to the cornfields of Iowa and beyond.

There's nothing quite like Woebot tearing it up with a two hour, twenty minute Indian Classical Mix1 to cool you out in the midst of a long, hot summer.

Pieces of the crew were down at the Blacklight Joint the other night, chillin' with Do'shonne and Slye, drafting up the blueprint for the future.

I recall wandering the vast corridors on an indoor mall only to find a record shop nestled in one of its murky corners.

I recall wandering the vast corridors on an indoor mall only to find a record shop nestled in one of its murky corners.