George Burns – I Wish I Was Eighteen Again
The year is 1980. George Burns, a man who had already lived long enough for two full careers, was ninety-four…
The year is 1980. George Burns, a man who had already lived long enough for two full careers, was ninety-four…
The best performances are often accidental miracles. They are the moments when a meticulously crafted studio recording, which stands as…
There is a precise kind of sonic time travel that occurs when a forgotten 45 is dropped onto a turntable.…
There is a moment in the late night, past the loud pronouncements of midnight and before the pale promise of…
The memory is crisp, nearly cinematic: a sticky summer evening, the static-laced pulse of AM radio cutting through the humid…
The room is dark, save for the blue glow spilling from the home audio setup across the floor. You can…
The air is thick with ozone and ambition. It’s 1963, and the sound pouring from every transistor radio—from the dashboard…
The air in the bar hangs thick with the ghosts of spilled beer and forgotten dreams, a scent of salt-tinged…
The Interstate rolls out before you, a black ribbon under the merciless Central Texas sun. The air conditioning strains against…
The air in the Capitol Records studio, Hollywood, 1964, must have crackled with an almost anti-Nashville electricity. While the Countrypolitan…