Billy Joe Royal 1965 – Down In The Boondocks
It’s late, maybe two in the morning, and the car radio is glowing a soft, sickly green against the dark…
It’s late, maybe two in the morning, and the car radio is glowing a soft, sickly green against the dark…
The air in the room is heavy, not just with cigarette smoke and cheap wine, but with the suffocating weight…
The sound comes to you through a layer of sepia-toned glass, warm with the analog distortion of a bygone era.…
The year is 1965. The air is thick with American ambition, but filtered through a distinctly British lens. The Rolling…
The air in the studio, Olympic or perhaps Trident in London, must have been thick with the residual charge of…
The year 1967 was already a kaleidoscope of noise and light, a summer so saturated with change that every song…
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…