Colour My World – Petula Clark
The tape hiss of 1966 London—the subtle, silvery veil laid over the world-changing sounds emerging from Pye Studios—is the sound…
The tape hiss of 1966 London—the subtle, silvery veil laid over the world-changing sounds emerging from Pye Studios—is the sound…
The light is low. The air smells of old velvet, dust motes dancing in the single shaft of morning sun…
The year is 1974. The decade’s promise has long since curdled, replaced by the grim realities of Watergate and the…
The air was heavy and warm, carrying the faint, metallic scent of ozone from a distant, dying storm. It was…
The needle drops. A faint but definite layer of tape hiss announces the arrival of a sound world that is…
The air in the café was thick and warm, smelling faintly of old coffee grounds and damp wool. Outside, the…
There are certain songs that exist less as singular recordings and more as a kind of sonic bedrock, a shared…
The air in the rehearsal room was thick with the scent of ozone and old coffee. Outside, 1989 was drawing…
The air in the studio must have felt charged, heavy with the dust of creative upheaval. It was 1967, and…
The tape hiss always tells a story. In the mid-1970s, as the volume wars of rock began to escalate, a…