Jackie Wilson 1967 – (You’re Love Keeps Lifting Me )Higher And Higher
The scene is almost cinematic, and perhaps that’s the way the greatest pieces of music should arrive: out of time,…
The scene is almost cinematic, and perhaps that’s the way the greatest pieces of music should arrive: out of time,…
It is late. The city is asleep, or at least it’s trying to be. You’re in a car, maybe driving…
It’s late, and the world outside my window is a saturated blue-black, exactly the color of mid-century cinematic heartbreak. I’m…
The air was thick and humid, smelling of old leather and stale cigarette smoke—the universal scent of a dimly lit…
The air in the cabin was thick with the scent of pine and old leather. It was late, maybe 2…
The air in early 1964 felt like high-voltage electricity, a dizzying current flowing across the Atlantic. Merseybeat had done its…
It is two in the morning. The kind of hour where city sounds thin out, leaving only the bass frequencies…
There are pieces of music that define an era, and then there are those that simply explode it. They arrive…
The memory is not a visual one, but a sonic one: the distant, slightly muffled quality of a transistor radio…
The vinyl still carries the scent of a long-gone winter evening, the static whisper of a world turning from monochrome…