“I stood there for a moment longer in the yellow tornado light while the techno music in my ears reorganized my consciousness into cleaner lines than the gangsta vibe . . . implanting in the folds of my cortex the way poetry used to before I got a Discman and made pop music the soundtrack to the movie of me walking around in the city.” [John Seabrook, Nobrow (New York: Vintage Books, 2000), p. 14].
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