You’re always the oldest you’ve ever been. I was certainly that way when I discovered John Fahey’s The Transfiguration of Blind Joe Death. And I discovered it many times. Some records orbit your turntable, while some records orbit you. The aura and mystique of some dissipate while with others it grows like the jasmine in August. Nearly every time I hear The…
Years and a continent apart I guarantee you that this melting Earth is not orbiting the Sun it is circling it like a drain. Walking to back to the office from a lunch gone long, a gentlemen convinced me to feel the heat radiating from his head. There is no reason in this world, only steadily increasing fahrenheit .
Wondering what it meant to be an uncle, I remembered a new record store had its grand opening that same afternoon. Slowly, I moved my disinterested legs and I tried to remember where it was.
There’s a somewhat arbitrary aspect to creating a song. But those songs connect with people in a way that is anything but arbitrary. There’s an arbitrary aspect to putting a record on at a bar. But to me in that room, it was anything but arbitrary.
If Rock ‘n’ Roll had a purpose, some deeper thread that separated Carl Perkins from Bing Crosby and connected Little Richard to The Velvet Underground, I would find it.