[1955: David Ritz remembering cataloguing his music collection in his bedroom] I listen to "Hallelujah, I Love Her So" [on a phonograph]. I'm shaken. I recognize the song from the radio. It's a hit, but I can't help myself; I'm drawn to it; I love it. The next day I buy "Drown in My Own Tears" and "A Fool for You" by the same man. I do not want to like the songs as much as I do. They are commercial--an unpardonable sin in the mind and the heart of a twelve-year-old who knows that True Art cannot also be popular. My distinctions and categories are starting to blur. My understanding of music is being threatened. I am hooked on Ray Charles. << less