My Morning Jacket represented a salt of the earth, Kentucky distilled migration of unpretentious 1970s southern rock through a contemporary aughts filter. I felt it bubble in my veins.
When “Murmur” played, dancing was compulsory. Singing along with Stipe’s unintelligible lyrics and discussing their meaning until dawn was a regular occurrence. Friends would come by to study, but we just ended up flipping “Murmur” over and over