![]() I got wind of Cudi’s music about a year before, from some homies who insisted I listen to his mixtape A Kid Named Cudi. But for those 45 or so minutes, Cudi’s first two studio albums became a beacon of hope, showing me that I wasn’t alone no matter what I was dealing with. ![]() ![]() The circumstances made me a recluse, scared to divulge my problems and too afraid to confront them head on. I was in the final two years at Berkeley High School and the product of respected parents, failing to live up to academic expectations, and chronically depressed. I’d periodically hop on the line, retreat to the back, pop on the albums on my iPod Touch, and reflect on my place in life. In the case of Kid Cudi’s first two Man on the Moon projects, it brings me back to 2010, to the 51 AC transit bus line that rode from Berkeley to Oakland. Music has a way of bringing you back to a moment.
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