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For such a short time, the intake of a breath, it seemed
that the new wave was on the verge of an evolutionary step,
and every Thursday night between Ubu sets, to wander
outside, drifting between ballast heaps in the painless
summer air, to gaze up at the underside of the High Level
Bridge, to watch ore boats push themselves up the river, to
listen to the sudden sonic fireworks shoot out of the alien
Aeronautical Shot Peening Company with its angulated,
pastel-painted, space cowboy facade-- Big Mystery Sounds
fired into the night air-- to go out and to come back was to
breath deeply the sensual mystery air of the
Never-To-Be-Repeated. These were intoxicating days spent
adrift in the ancient ruins of the American midwest.
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