A 90 minute high bias cassette. Sitting in a bin. The lady behind the counter, in the blue smock, mentioned something about "...people keep leaving their goddamned crap here." Titles and artists are scrawled across the cover in tiny block letters. The artists aren't familiar. Some of the song titles are just dates. I take the tape home and put it in the old TEAC and press play. In seconds the tape is mangled beyond repair because oh yeah the TEAC doesn't work anymore. Reinforcements are called in. The contents of the tape are unrecoverable. "We'll have to start from scratch." We did. How can we recreate a thing nobody ever heard?
"By sweeping all these crumbs into a pile."
Here's the pile. Nobody is certain that any of the participants are actually "real." Submission culled from the undergrowth and wound through the corridors of the manor. Simon and Zed and John and Gary and Eugene and Dale and Eros and Lacky and Jim and Michael, and Alexander, we thank you.
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