A MIASMA of reefer, tobacco and dust hangs in the room mingled with aromas of leather, liquor, body odor and perfume. The crowd carouses and grunts unintelligibly. Distractions. Sense memories mingle with the moment. He adjusts the familiar weight of the shoulder strap. Amplifiers softly hum and emit a burnt ozoney smell. Red power lights twinkle. He hits the first chord. Music is the mantra. He whirls into a trance.

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