I was on a train when I noticed a cassette tape sitting on the seat beside me, an object so out of time it made me look twice.
Written on the label in faded ink: Hendrix, Joplin, Bowie, Jett. Four names on one cassette. It felt like a self-portrait made out of sound, meant for a Walkman and the person wearing it.
Mix tapes weren’t just playlists. They were personal, handmade, and full of intent. ROCK, REWOUND would be a fitting Rock and Roll Hall of Fame exhibit celebrating that lost art.