I wish I could say my first musical memory is of something beautiful: my parents blasting “What’s Going On?” by Marvin Gaye on St. Charles Avenue in the ’70s, the smooth sounds of the yacht rock that probably aided in my conception in the ‘80s, or maybe the way I felt hearing Nirvana for the first time in the ‘90s. I wish I could say that was the truth, but it’s not.

Growing up going to Catholic School in a small southern town is one of the strangest things that can happen to a person. Sometimes I wonder if any…

Ben Keesly

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