Swamp roads. Motel televisions. Bayou heat. British fog. AM radio ghosts. Broken vinyl. Late night helicopters. Shipping forecasts drifting in from somewhere across the Atlantic. Songs that feel remembered more than played.
Bruce on cassette. Procol in the fog. The Broken Homes driving through the bayou. Rick Derringer kicking the motel door open. Across the Universe bleeding through damaged media. Dennis Wilson staring into black water somewhere off the Pacific.
This one moves through highways, oceans, bars, radios, old movies, fading dreams and the strange feeling that a country can already be nostalgic while it’s still alive.
