During a 9 a.m. Wednesday editorial meeting at the Current a few years ago, our then-newest investigative reporter, who also wrote about music, complained that he wanted to cover "jam bands in Austin."
His declaration jolted me from coffee-slurping doldrums into eye-popping ultra-consciousness. After the meeting, I darted into Elaine's office and shut the door behind me. She startled.
"Austin?" I hissed. "JAM BANDS!?"
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