Every time I took the bus while living in Seattle, it was its own mini adventure. Any public transportation aficionado has their own stories of weirdness and delight, but my favorite was the night bus from downtown out to my apartment in Issaquah. It was a relatively quiet bus, but it had its moments of community college kids and drunk baseball fans relentlessly chatting as some droned masterwork played in my ears in half-sleep. Transit to the Corner is a fond remembrance of those rides, voices cluttering a wafting melody for 30 minutes of comforting nostalgia. With public announcements, the roar of tires and tracks, and static speech becoming part of the new-formed composition, Brian Green has eliminated the middle men. Although it has since become a strange tribute to nostalgia since I’ve left Seattle, it’s also a functioning piece of art. It morphs with every listen, the solitude of melody pairing with the observant isolation of public transport. I keep returning to Transit on the Corner, not for what it conjures, but for what it is: a slice of our lives given a bit of reflection and a soothing soundtrack.
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