Bogdan Raczynski on Port Rhombus (1996)

Port Rhombus was my lodestone long ago. I got a copy from a pint-sized record shop during university, surrounded by pick-up trucks, country music, and fourty-four thousand football fans. Interestingly, I have no recollection of plopping down that purple label; not the first time, nor any other. The memories are all glued together like molten wax in the apex of summer. I zoned out heavy, eyes glazed over, in a froth, just like a junky.

Sure, it was an escape. Taking a walk is an escape. Port Rhombus was a goddamn warlock spell, an incantation whose efficacy radiated regardless of whether I played it at 33 or 45 or hell, even manually scrawling it out rotation by rotation with my finger. Naturally, this bonded me. I was connected, transported, ejected, thousands of miles away, where there were others like me, where I needed to be.

You can find Bogdan Raczynski’s website here