Lately I've been reading this blog: http://replikate.blogspot.com/. This morning, the woman who writes it posted this video:
And as the opening chords rang, I was back in Zeno’s, five feet away from where Ryan was playing, his foot kicking, his hair in his face, dark glasses, tight jeans, glaring at the audience. I think I remember the set list, I remember what I was wearing, I remember that I left the bar that night and rode home through the alleys because I was drunk, I remember the rainbow cruiser that I had in college. It had a purple bike horn and handlebar streamers and I adored it wholly. I was probably wearing patchouli oil with my Zeno's t-shirt and the carhart jeans I lived in back then. I got home to the bungalow on Buckhout Street and couldn’t sleep. I sat on the back porch facing the garden, smoking an American Spirit (in those years, I so wanted to be a smoker). Eric and Dave, my roommates, were probably asleep or at their girlfriends’ houses; my neighbors – Erin, Olena and I forget the rest – weren’t home. And as I sat there in the silver and white light, as the soar of the alcohol loosened its grip, I ached with loneliness.
Of course those feelings are gone now – more than 10 years later – but his music takes me there in a heartbeat, and it's still as beautiful to me as it was then.