Bobby Helms – You are my special Angel
The year 1957 was a fault line in American music. The rock and roll explosion was in full, glorious tilt,…
The year 1957 was a fault line in American music. The rock and roll explosion was in full, glorious tilt,…
The year is 1965, and the British Invasion is no longer a tide—it’s a permanent high-water mark. Yet, amidst the…
The sound of 1964 was electric, a transatlantic conversation exploding out of transistor radios. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones—they were…
The late-night radio dial, thin and spectral, often gifts us artifacts far more potent than the glossy hits of the…
The air in 1964 was electric, crackling with the static of transformation. The British charts, once a polite, staid affair,…
The late-night radio hums still. It’s an intimate, slightly dusty sound, the sound of a lone car on an empty…
The scene is London, October 1964. Outside, the city is shedding its post-war austerity, its streets beginning to hum with…
The first time it hits you, it’s not the voice, though that is formidable. It’s the sheer, uncompromising velocity. Arthur…
The dial glows faintly in the dark, a sliver of light against the mahogany veneer of an old Zenith console.…
The first time you hear it, it hits you not with a thunderclap, but with the quiet, devastating precision of…