Al Martino – Spanish Eyes (1967)
The air in the café was thick with the ghost of cigar smoke and the faint, sweet scent of gardenia.…
The air in the café was thick with the ghost of cigar smoke and the faint, sweet scent of gardenia.…
The memory is cinematic, played out under the lurid glow of a diner sign on a two-lane blacktop. The car…
The world outside the terminal felt sterile, jet-lagged, and utterly alien. You know that moment after a long, disorienting overseas…
The air in the studio was thick with the faint scent of stale cigarette smoke and freshly cut lacquer. It…
The late 1950s—the transition point. Rock and roll had crashed the gates, but the quiet storms of vocal pop still…
The first sound is not a crash, but a whisper of distortion, a low, ominous rumble that sounds like the…
The stage is set not in a smoky Nashville honky-tonk or a dusty Appalachian holler, but under the soft, diffused…
The door to the pub swings open, spilling a plume of stale beer and a chorus of loud, laughing chatter…
The year is 1967. London is still officially swinging, but the psychedelic summer is fading into a gritty, autumnal reality.…
The song begins with a gasp—or perhaps it is the sound of the world holding its breath. A tentative, almost…