Bobby Day – Rockin’ Robin (1958)
The year is 1958. A transistor radio sits humming on a dusty shelf in a roadside diner, its plastic grille…
The year is 1958. A transistor radio sits humming on a dusty shelf in a roadside diner, its plastic grille…
I remember a damp, late-autumn evening, cruising the suburbs with a friend, the car windows fogged up, the radio hiss…
It’s late, the kind of hour where the world outside seems to have paused, and all that moves is the…
The air is thick with smoke and suggestion. It’s not a memory of a specific place, but the feeling of…
The air in the mid-fifties living room was thick with a kind of post-war, pre-rock-and-roll quietude. Radios, gleaming with walnut…
The first time you hear it—truly hear it, stripped of its cultural baggage and cinematic context—it’s not a song, but…
The year is 1958. We picture Andy Williams, already a rising star, a clean-cut face ready to transition from a…
The year is 1956. The scent of hot wax and vacuum tubes hangs in the air of Universal Recording Corp.…
The first sound is the silence being broken by a simple, dry rhythmic snap. Snap, snap, snap. It’s the sound…
The year is 1958. The airwaves are thick with the frantic energy of rock and roll—Elvis’s swagger, Jerry Lee’s wild…