Music, experience and memory. This is how I remember the haunting:

In the early nineteen nineties, I signed up to be a disc jockey for Radio Erindale of the University of Toronto, Mississauga. I signed up because I loved music, was heavily into the alternative live music and club scene in Toronto, and because my longtime friend, Gary Matos, was their newly christened Station Manager.

With a few other select personnel, we planned to collectively make a musical difference at a small, and slightly beleaguered, suburban campus radio station. We’d fill the thirsty ears of the student body with the music that we liked to listen to, with the tunes we were hearing in the downtown clubs we were regularly frequenting: La Vie, Catch-22 and Empire. And, most importantly, we’d get to talk bands and records and new music all day and all of the night.

I signed up for…