Inadvertent magic is, we think, the best kind: the hazy coincidence, the series of signs not quite decoded. It can be the first recording of a song, before the words have clicked into place, when the flawed syntax catches the edge of a chord, and the hum of a misplaced microphone spills into the mix. But there comes a point, and this can be dangerous, when the artist can fall prey to a confidence borne of this early fizzing success: she wants to harness the power without understanding it, and seeks a do-over, never understanding that the misplaced passes and fudged lines of the imperfect first incantation were vital to its construct.

Greil Marcus, Lost Locales