I went into the whole album, calling it the hipster manifesto of our time, On the Road for a generation who didn’t want to end up living in their parents’ basement like Kerouac. I wrote that it had taken a decade-old record to help us figure out what we wanted, and what we wanted was fun—real fun, which requires freedom, and belonging, and affordable housing, and peace from wartime. The Bush years were ending, I wrote; you could feel it on the dance floor.
