A few weeks ago, I witnessed a conversation on Twitter discussing the making of mixtapes. They were discussing the ones we made at home ourselves on cassette tapes filled with slow jams. The ones we toiled over for that girl that made us pay attention to the way we smelled, the girl who for some reason took the words right out of our mouth, our first, second, third and fourth crushes. We made them to communicate our feelings in a way we couldn’t at that time. For some reason, Bobby Brown’s, “I Wanna Rock With You” said it so much cooler than I ever could. Besides, making the mixtape was like writing a letter, albeit imperfect with its abrupt endings and sudden beginnings (those pause and record buttons were never as precise as we wanted them to be). In the end, however, she got the point, and if she blushed, you were the man. Continue reading
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