The Fleetwoods 1959 – Mr Blue
The needle drops, and for a suspended second, there is only the faint, familiar whisper of vinyl dust settling into…
The needle drops, and for a suspended second, there is only the faint, familiar whisper of vinyl dust settling into…
The year is 1968, and the radio airwaves are a battlefield of sound—psychedelic rock is pushing boundaries, soul music is…
There are pieces of music that arrive in the world like a clap of thunder, demanding immediate, aggressive attention. And…
I was driving late one autumn night, radio dial scrolling through the static and ghost-signals of distant towns, when it…
The needle drops, and for a fleeting 150 seconds, the whole myth of The Walker Brothers, the beautiful, brooding piece…
The scene is perpetually 1968, though I first encountered this sound decades later. It was late on a Tuesday night,…
The vinyl crackle is the sound of the past reaching out, a tiny static comet streaking across a field of…
I was sitting in a roadside diner booth, the formica sticky with generations of spilled sugar, when I first heard…
There’s a specific, alchemic sound to Motown in 1964. It’s the sound of a well-oiled machine accelerating, shedding any lingering…
I remember exactly where I was the first time the needle dropped on Trini Lopez at PJ’s, a late, humid…