Once upon a time a long time ago there was a small band called The Inklings. Although I say a long time ago, it has been noticed that the lead guitarist who is actually a rabbit (although he’s sometimes confused with a dog) plays a Fender Telecaster electric guitar. I’m going to suggest this as an anomaly of the space time continuum and leave it at that but if you find this explanation a little far fetched, then you may also have to wonder why you would believe a rabbit could play a guitar in the first place? Anyway, on with the story before we get too deep into questioning the fabric of reality because who knows what that’s really made of or whether or not it’s even machine washable?
Music is an augmentation to reality that doesn't cripple the imagination. It gives us dreams.
To write a musical spell.
Fox on the Run
Not finding anything else to listen to.
Open your eyes then open them again.
Too many musicians copying unoriginal, unthoughtful music. The music needs to come first.
We like it.
The lack of available digits.
Yes. By keeping away.
They should play louder maybe?