If they tear down Muddy’s building, will the blues get bluer? Will the sound of Black blues become so inaudible that all a people have left is an album of a bad night in Chicago? A facsimile of how pain changes a man’s voice. And Frankie Knuckles? Nothing was more in the moment than a real dance party in somebody’s basement. Put representations of that culture – suffering turned into Black joy, human joy - into a museum and the significance of the land it comes from, the domestic spaces that nourished it, gets more and more clear, if only in their absence. 

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