So long ago I don't remember when, I used to spin compact discs from beginning to end, believing every line from my favorite bands. Last week I found one of those albums while digging through boxes full of my past self, many artifacts I could hardly recall, I pulled out Bringing Down the Horse. The 90s were a magical time, especially in music. A time before $.99 downloads. A time where music sounded better through your Aiwa home stereo, alongside a VH1 video, or while skating. While it was an era full of one-hit Tubthumping and Bitter Sweet Symphonies, you still bought the entire album and listened to every song. With the occasional three-way call on your parents landline phone, there were no distractions from texts or emails. I remember plugging in my Sony CD Walkman before bed and driving it home with One Headlight and 6th Avenue Heartache, only to contemplate Bleeders, and wonder if I was doing the best I could. I just listened to the advice streaming from my headphones, and had to keep a-moving on. The clean guitar intro of Three Marlenas was the perfect song to drift in and out of sleep to. I remember as a 15-year-old, I worshipped those lyrics and longed for that perpetual freedom. To buy that Chevrolet and head out on that highway. As Jakob Dylan was counting off the title lyrics to close that fourth track, the opening drums on The Difference woke me to what timeless music was supposed to sound like. It's been close to 20 years since that record came out, and while so many things about me has changed, I'm still exactly the same as I used to be.