The New York Times Magazine
July 3, 2005
The beat goes on.
By JOHN ROSENTHAL
A friend went to her local music store and asked where she could
find Bonnie Raitt's latest record. The 20-something sales clerk
smirked as if the customer had asked where she might purchase a
floppy disk. He sniffed that the store hadn't sold records for
more than a decade. "What about tapes?" she asked. The associate
rolled his eyes, informing her that prerecorded cassettes, too,
had gone the way of thermal fax paper. Exasperated, she sighed,
"Whatever you call those things they put music on these days."
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