It’s late into the night and I’m listening to this AM frequency pulsing real slow in and out with a stack of soul records from long ago and way up north, which when you’re nerdy about radio like I am is a deeply pleasurable midnight delicacy. So I’m swaying back and forth in my bedroom folding laundry on my bed and I’m admiring how the cat is so sleepy and heat-drunk she can’t even give a fuck about the dog’s big biscuit paw draping over her belly like she’s some little girlfriend of his and this track comes on and suddenly it’s like I’m being haunted by a friendly but sorta bummed out ghost.
When I was little I’d make movies in my head about the life I assumed I’d be leading after gritting my teeth long enough through the hassle of childhood. This was the song I imagined playing at my wedding. I probably haven’t fancied myself a bride since I started bleeding, but this song still sounds to me exactly like being in love feels.
Maybe nothing in the world can ever sound as good to you as that first soul record will.
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