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There’s nothing like driving fast down a California highway in a black Jaguar on a late-summer night, warm wind coming in through the sunroof, making my hair a halo around my face, lost in my own thoughts of a dreamy afternoon in the sun that lead into an evening of friends. New music emanated from the glowing dash as RLL said, “You need to hear this, it reminds me of you”.

After the first few words I said, “Karen Carpenter”. He said, “No. Rumer,” as we sped down the Pacific coast, a half moon following us all the way, skimming over the water to keep pace.

This is what I heard. I am hooked.

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