I’d wager most of you have wished to be a fly on the wall perched above our iconic CD rack at least once. As dipteran existences go, it would be hungry but educational and occasionally entertaining. The cliché might be “if these walls could talk,” but they can’t, and neither can flies, but I can. I’m not going to tell you everything that happens here – it’s not Vegas, but certain things that happen here stay here, and I’ve forgotten most of it anyway – but I am going to tell you what, in between a hug from Bill Frisell as he...
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