The Dutchess and The Duke has a sound that transports me to the fall of 1968. I imagine I'm Winnie's (from the Wonder Years) weird black friend who'd rather go home and listen to records than speak. I imagine I'm playing them on my 8-track in my basement while she stares at me blankly, obtrusively, as if telling me with her eyes that she wishes I had straight hair. It's a symbiotic friendship though because she brings the weed. I close my eyes and mellow out. I know I'm bound for New York City on a greyhound right after i graduate, with or without Winnie. Later I become the most relevant African-American cultural critic of the 20th century.