‘I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t board the ship now.’

‘What do you mean? I have a ticket.’

‘Very good, sir, but I’m still afraid you’re too late. You’ll have to wait for the next one.’

‘But it hasn’t even left yet. Come on—let me on!’

‘I’m afraid not, sir. Everyone else is already aboard. They all got here when the album was released.’

‘What? Listen, I know I’m a little late, but it’s no big deal! Come on, move out of the way…’

‘I can’t let you aboard, sir. I’m afraid you’ve missed the boat.’

‘But I bought Mutations, dammit! The day it came out!’

‘May I see your copy of it, sir?’

‘I, uh, don’t have it anymore.’

‘Might I ask why?’

‘I sold it.’

‘So, sir, if you’ll pardon my bluntness, you really are a fair-weather fan, are you not?’

‘Probably.’

‘Ah…I see. Well, you can move right along right now if you’re going to now stand here and proclaim that Beck is a twenty-first-century troubadour and how this album is a momentous turn in his career and all that. I mean—really, sir—please don’t even start.’

‘Um…I think ‘Sunday Sun’ is a really awesome song.’

‘Yes, sir, so did Rolling Stone.’

‘Right. Do you think it’s funny how the album is called Sea Change and how I’m here trying to get on a boat?’

‘Not really, sir.’