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on March 15, 2025, 1:08 pm
3/15/25
I lost my connection to music, walked away from a place that had shaped my life, and wondered if I would ever experience music the same way again. Richard Milne told me I would. He was right. Last night, watching Gregory Alan Isakov with the Chicago Philharmonic, I felt music again.
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Late last spring, I sat at Richard Milne’s, drinking coffee and eating homemade banana bread. The conversation was not about music. It was about walking away from something that had shaped my life for 39 years. I was sad and heartbroken. The place had become a shell of itself, and in many ways, it still is. It had turned songs into a series of carefully placed puzzle pieces, arranged more for effect than for meaning. The genuine connections had faded, replaced with something hollow. Everyone recognized it, but no one wanted to say it out loud.
Richard had made his exit long before I did, for reasons that were more principled, more resolute. I left because I had nothing left to give, I had finally been broken.
As I was walking out, Richard told me, “In time, you’re going to remember your love of music.”
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