Because John is visiting manufacturers in Montreal, he missed this morning's rock awakening. We're gathered in my office, huddled round the sound, listening. "I'm glad John isn't here," says Elizabeth. "I need to break this in slowly."
Alright, Kristina, before you leave us for your boyfriend and Boston, before you dive into ontology and photography, before you dedicate your days to the books and your nights to the booze, before you lose track of the earth's revolutions keeping time, instead, with semesters and exams before all of that and everything else, if, in fact, you do decide you want to fill your spare moments with music good music, produced with magic then I've found a few things for you to read. I hope this will help.
Associate publisher, Keith Pray leads a parade of Primedia staffers from the office, down the hall, through the revolving doors, onto Madison Avenue, and into Mulligan's Irish Pub. On his way, he sings out:
I put this one in so you could hear some of the Cash Brothers in action. It came up in the comments to an earlier blog entry, and was a big reason for wanting to send you this disc. Note: the pop in the beginning is on the CD; maybe something in the master.
Thanks again for taking the time to put together the mix CD, Canadian Music for the Arros. While I knew that it would be arriving soon, I had no idea that you'd include such wonderful liner notes. It was a big surprise, and it put a smile on my face. No small task on a Monday morning.
Things are quiet now. Kristina's iPod has gone to sleep. Aside from some street noise a passing siren or a honking horn the only music in our office comes from the printer. Soon these coarse black and whites will be colorful glossies. These proofs will grow to be the pages you turn.
I'll have to check with JA to be sure (he remembers these things better than anyone), but I think it was Thursday, August 10, 2000 exactly six years ago that I first sat down in front of a computer screen for Stereophile.