Have you ever loved a beer for more than what was just in the glass? Have you ever felt connected to a restaurant because of the owner's story, the ambiance, or something memorable that happened in your life while you were there? Like the fifth taste, umami, some things take on a deeper meaning based on a combination of flavors. And like umami, the impression can be difficult to describe.
Destiny seems to dictate that the karmic consequence of something being so awesome is that it will come to an abrupt end. The father of modern microbreweries will sell out. That cooking savant creating magic in some obscure kitchen will leave. That musician changing the Universe with every note will off himself.
1560 The Game in Houston had radio umami. They were local and independent both in business structure and in business practice. In hindsight, I admit that we could all sense that the glory days of the station were in the rear view mirror. However, when Lance Zierlein announced he was leaving, it got real.
If you've ever watched your favorite establishment give rise to something remarkable and then destroy itself, then you probably felt like this (but only never bothered to make a video -- and drop that many f-bombs):
R.I.P. 1560 The Game. Double Rods. I don't recognize you anymore.
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