Sue Thompson 1962 – Norman
There are certain records that arrive fully formed, sounding less like a recording session and more like an overheard conversation,…
There are certain records that arrive fully formed, sounding less like a recording session and more like an overheard conversation,…
The year is 1967. London is a kaleidoscopic wash of primary colours, Pop Art, and the sound of amphetamines kicking…
The summer of 1967 didn’t just happen in San Francisco; it blossomed, somewhat damply, in the English countryside, too. Imagine…
The scene is familiar to anyone who treasures the forgotten corners of the British Invasion: a smoky, low-ceilinged club in…
The first time I really heard “Hey Joe,” I was sixteen, hunched over a pair of borrowed, mid-range studio headphones…
There are moments in music history that feel less like a planned collaboration and more like a rip in the…
The air in the studio must have been thick with the scent of ambition and old cigarette smoke. It was…
There is a precise point in the life of every truly great, slightly abrasive rock-and-roll band when they must either…
The air in the room is thick and blue, smelling faintly of worn velvet and late-night rain. It is not…
I remember the first time I heard it—not the single, which had long since passed into legend, but the sheer…