Memorialized in this song from Butch Walker.

Something you could easily spend hours on:  picking out just the right music, figuring out the timing, trying not to have contrasting songs butt against each other, sitting cross-legged on the floor as you built it song by song from CD, album, and other cassette.  It might take days to make one.  And there’d always be a reason for making it.  Songs for the car, music for a dinner party.  Or the ultimate makeout tape, the one you’d listen to in your lonely hours so you could dream of the passions that might never kindle.

The writing on the label would always be precise.  And you’d have to remember if you had EQ in or not.  And did it really make a difference?  You had a collection of songs for a single purpose.  That sometimes was enough.

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