Wilma Burgess – Misty Blue (1975)
The light is off, but the city’s electric hum still bleeds in through the blinds—a faint orange glaze across the…
The light is off, but the city’s electric hum still bleeds in through the blinds—a faint orange glaze across the…
It’s 1975. You’re driving late at night, somewhere between Amarillo and Lubbock. The air is thick with the smell of…
It’s 2 AM on a two-lane highway, miles blurring beneath the high beams. The radio is a quiet hiss until…
The air in the cabin was thick with the scent of old vinyl and ozone from a tube radio, it…
The air is thick with static, the hiss and crackle of AM radio in a truck stop diner late at…
It’s two in the morning. The rain has stopped, but the streets outside still gleam with a dark, oily sheen…
The year is 1977. Bell bottoms still reigned, the air was thick with disco fever, and the radio dials were…
The late 1970s smelled like cheap perfume, cigarette smoke, and the faint, electrical tang of a strobe light. It was…
The air in the listening room is thick, not with smoke or anticipation, but with the quiet resonance that only…
The air hung thick and sweet, the kind of late-summer night where the windows were down not for cooling, but…