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For a good many decades, I felt I was pretty attuned to music. Even with the Heavy Metal/Thrash/Doom craze in the NW, I was able to turn away toward the old standbys and still felt connected. But, somewhere along the line, I lost track of the local music scene. Music became less important and finally oldies stations became the norm. Now, I might know a music venue, but certainly not whose playing any longer.

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That was evident today when I entered a pretty much empty tavern with PBR as the lead beer. The walls were papered with the same posters that seem to be nailed two inches thick on Portland telephone poles.

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The windows looked out to concrete walls only inches away. Somehow the PBR, ice cold, tasted good. The barmaid with black hair and porcelain skin and black ink wasn’t typical Portland aloof. Maybe a good place for homework and lame questions.

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