Music and movies have always been colored tabs on manila folders containing collections of moments and memories. Music recalls mental states better than any specific memory. I was listening to the Beastie Boys’ The In Sound From Way Out! when I misunderstood a three-way stop and crumpled the bumper on my Jeep (and totaled a Dodge Neon). The Wu-Tang Clan’s Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) came out a few weeks before a trip to Florida with my parents. Sitting on my suitcase outside a Hertz rental car at the Orlando airport, that CD provided the soundtrack for not only that vacation but the entire year that followed. I discovered the eccentricities and depth of Jazz music my junior year in college. I stayed up one night barely reading, barely studying for a Film Theory final because Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers demanded more attention than I could offer my studies.