I’m listening to Sweet Baby James by James Taylor, which really everyone should if their goal’s feeling exponentially better about themselves and the world.

During the outro of Country Road, the drums fall waaaaaay out of time for a couple beats. It’s the kind of thing we’d fix today, but I’m picturing James and band imbibing god knows what and staying up til god knows when regaling each other with tales of sexual conquest, and yes, of course the wonky bit stays in, because it’s the moment and the people and how dare you wipe the tape and start over you utter bastard.

We can do everything ourselves these days, but maybe we shouldn’t. Maybe we should make some dubious choices and wind up in a room with myriad rascals and press record.