Dave Berry 1965 – Little Things
The room is dark, save for the sickly amber glow of a valve radio dial. Outside, 1965 is in full,…
The room is dark, save for the sickly amber glow of a valve radio dial. Outside, 1965 is in full,…
The scene is almost cinematic. A late winter evening in Nashville, December 1961. The city is still shaking off the…
Picture the scene: December 1964. The world still feels the whiplash of Beatlemania. Every move, every mop-top shake, is a…
The year 1960 felt like a moment suspended between two eras: the raw, untamed youth of rock and roll was…
The world P.J. Proby inhabited in 1965 was one of deliberate, explosive contrast. On one side, the polite, tailored beat…
The vinyl is almost always dusty. You pull the 45 from its sleeve—Coed Records, a paper label that looks like…
The year 1961 arrived with the sweet, fading echo of a bell that had rung out the previous summer. The…
There are moments in music history that feel less like grand design and more like a happy accident caught on…
The year is 1968. The world is splitting at the seams, yet in the quiet, analog heart of the record…
There are pieces of music that arrive with a full manifesto, a declaration of intent hammered out in the studio.…