I’ve been calling 2012 my “year of flux,” but 20 years ago I also experienced a momentous year. 1992 was the year I moved away from home — a summer spent in Washington DC as a software tester (strange coincidence that I also spent this summer living in DC), and then the start of college in autum ’92.

Probably right around 20 years ago this week, a guy on my dorm floor introduced me to Reading, Writing & Arithmetic by The Sundays. I was immediately transfixed, and listened to it over and over. He made me a copy on cassette tape (this is how people shared music back then). I have vivid memories of walking around Seattle’s Queen Anne hill on crisp, bright autumn afternoons — big old trees, big old houses, views of Puget Sound and “mountains in stereo” (Cascades to the east, Olympics to the west), with The Sundays providing the soundtrack on my walkman.

Harriet Wheeler, the vocalist, has a voice that takes a little acclimation. Some friends of mine never could adapt, including a girl I had a crush on, who said “her voice is so annoying, like a drill in my ears.” I duly ruled this girl off my list of romantic possibilities, because musical compatibility was such a big deal back then. Indeed, everything is a big deal when you’re 18 years old.