Ain’t That a Shame – Fats Domino
The neon sign above the New Orleans club, slicked by a warm, passing rain, had burned out its second ‘O’…
The neon sign above the New Orleans club, slicked by a warm, passing rain, had burned out its second ‘O’…
The year is 1957. The sound of a teenage revolution, catalyzed just two years prior by a Memphis boy and…
The year is 1976, and the air is thick with the thump of disco and the roar of arena rock.…
The air in the studio must have crackled that day in June 1958. Not with the velvet sigh of strings…
It is a moment you can chart not by the clock, but by the spine’s involuntary shiver. The lights cut.…
The needle drops, and immediately, the room shifts. It’s not the bright, tinny sound of 1960s AM radio, nor the…
The vinyl lands with a soft, final thud on the platter. The needle drops. A low, subterranean growl of bass…
I remember exactly where I was when the true, untethered nature of this recording hit me. It wasn’t a sleek,…
The lights are low, the room is thick with smoke and anticipation. You’re not in a stadium in 1970, nor…
I often find myself staring at the chrome grille of an old, analog jukebox—the kind lit by fading neon and…