The year was 1997. It was sophomore year, I was living in Mather House, and I was meeting all sorts of new friends that year (with Marcine as my social shepherd). One night we met these weird dudes and went back to hang out in their dorm room to talk about weird stuff. One of them put on some music. An album. (Back then they were still on CDs). I was transfixed. My quasi-photographic memory that typically allows me to recall conversations and details from just about any experience throughout my life was rendered useless that night. I will never remember what we discussed. The music had consumed me entirely. It was new. Different. Amazing. I asked what it was and Eric (one of the weird dudes from that night, but who would later become one of my life-long friends, albeit sometimes still delightfully weird), said, “it’s Homework.” Um… huh? “Oh, it’s Daft Punk and their album is called Homework.” I sat and listened and closed my eyes. Nothing would ever be the same. This music took me to new places. Sure the country music, oldies, and pop music I grew up on was (and is) still amazing. But this spoke to me. After Homework was over, Eric put on some Chemical Brothers. Again, mind blown. The next day I went directly to Newbury Comics and bought both albums. And thus a raver was born. Phat pants, Burning Man, big bouncy dancing, hippie-raver commune, and all. And I owe it all to that one random night in Eric’s dorm room in 1997.