I can't recall the series of events that led me to rediscover Cris Williamson's seminal [1] The Changer and the Changed yesterday. I rediscovered my great love for it: strong, feminine, inspiring, sentimental. Like I like my women.
College music, hippie music, middle-aged lesbian music. I discovered her and artists like her (I had an awesome Woody Simmons album) in my early twenties in the early 90s, and even then I was a generation removed from when they were made in the 70s. I haven't listened to them for fifteen years. Now I'm a generation removed from who I was in my early twenties. Something in me thinks there's something wrong with liking it; shut up, something. I'm blissfully ignoring you.
[1] I'm aware that this word has ironic overtones here.
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