Recently my wife and I went to a performance by a band whose debut album came out in 1986. Every couple of years they produce yet another album of well-crafted, well-played, mid-tempo album of songs about life in all its mysteries and heartbreaks. More than 20 studio albums in these 38 years. (Considerably more than Pink Floyd or Fleetwood Mac or the Eagles, if, like me, you’re prone to thinking like that.)
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