for those who never gave up their turntables
THE BYRDS’ FLIGHT TO ENGLAND in August 1965 began a disastrous tour for the group. Fortunately, it wasn’t an entirely wasted trip, as it inspired Gene Clark to pen some psychedelically-enhanced poetry. Set to a loose melody strummed on an acoustic guitar, this became the basis for Eight Miles High. [Continue reading]
I CAN TRULY SAY that I knew it all—The Secret of the Universe. Once. Briefly. I can also say that this essay has little to do with record collecting, but it does touch on psychedelic music of the ’60s, so here it is (instead of on my other, eponymous blog). [Continue reading]
THE MAJOR RECORD COMPANIES usually released new titles on Monday, or at least they did in the ’60s. On April 12, 1965, I rushed home from school and ran upstairs to my room and tossed my books on my bed and pulled my money out of my drawer and ran downstairs to the garage and picked up my bike and zoomed off to Joe Nardone’s record shop and bought Mr. [Continue reading]
ARGUING THE ‘BEST’ ROCK GUITAR PLAYERS of the ’60 is probably a pretty dumb way to waste time—and “Surfing Guitars” will not be doing that! Considerably more constructive and interesting would be an argument as to who were—and that’s intentionally plural—the most ‘creative’ players. Of course, to reach any kind of consensus there would require that we first agree on a definition of ‘creative’ in that context! [Continue reading]
IT WAS TWENTY YEARS AGO TODAY—give or take a few hundred days one way or the other—that I finally found a stereo copy of DICK CAMPBELL SINGS WHERE IT’S AT (Mercury SR-61060). I was at a record show in New York, and happily paid $100 for it! I had been looking for a copy for years and may have been the only person there that day willing to pay the seller’s asking price. [Continue reading]