Red Headed Stranger by Willie Nelson.
There are certain albums that call to mind an extremely specific setting, no matter how many times and formats and states and conditions I listen to them in. This is one of them! There are others.
I am no more than eight years old, and this is the tape my dad listens to while putting up the carpet and other bits of the first retail storefront studio my mom called her place of business for a decent chunk of my youth. No need to close my eyes either, I could probably draw the gray carpet on the walls (a short pile, good for lots of velcro-backed frame corners to choose from) and smell the wood and paint and beginnings of the place, while Willie sang words I barely noticed.
A concept album from 1975, who would’ve expected that… š
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