You've heard that the F-Word and I like to make each other mixes. This is an old habit for me. Back in the day, you couldn't beat a mix tape (CD? I don't think so.) for expressing moments or sentiments. Words just... failed. Even for me. I'd labor over the songs, sitting up all night in my room and perfecting the exact moment when you press Play and Record at the same time and hope the resulting recording isn't too jarring before your song of choice begins. It was an art form, and while the moments of Play + Record are sadly ancient history, compilations will never die.
And yet, the swan song of the tape just won't quit.
I used to make collages on the covers of my mix tapes, carefully cutting out the perfect image or phrase that could add to the whimsical whole. I still have a major thing for collage art, and it's completely due to my old mix tape covers. The last true mix tape I ever made? "Love, Loss, and Lust: Valentine's Day 1998." I made one for each of my girlfriends, and the covers were a funky mix of pink and red hearts, ironic given that folks like the Smiths and Dylan lived inside.
A year ago, T and I read Love Is A Mix Tape: Life and Loss, One Song At A Time together. I say "together" because we read it one after another, but during both spells took to reading from it aloud. This story captures the beauty and terror of falling in love, and in equal measure the terror of having that love torn away from you, and the quiet beauty that comes with healing. All set to music, of course. To the couple who takes to speaking to each other in "High Fidelity" quotes, this memoir cut right to the heart, quite literally.
So in honor of Rob and Renee (and also to the other Rob, and to Laura, Barry, and Dick), I offer Micah and Ruth. When I saw this wedding invitation suite, I stopped in my tracks, completely floored. This might be the longest preamble in the history of wedding invitation preambles to say, very simply, that I want to be friends with this couple. Micah and Ruth rock.
Studio on Fire: Mix Tape Letterpress