The chronicles of Ruin, continued.
Call me Ishmael said....intelligence is knowing what to do when you don't know what to do.
Anonymous said... When I don't know what to do,I come here.
10 September 2009 22:59
Wonderful, Mr Ishmael.Some hippy stuff for you matins.
I thought mr verge might have something to say 'bout that, strikes me that it's the roots of a reggae or ska sensibility, Louie Louie; one of those things that seems always to have been there without making too much of a fuss of itself.
Core, archetypal rock 'n roll. Garage rock 'n roll before garage rock 'n roll, punk before punk. A masterpiece for all times. To horrify my kids, I can see myself skanking round the dancefloor to this, well into my eighties.Guitar solo to die for, as well. One note at a time, all you need.
Excellent.Mr Mongoose that was uncalled for. "Just call out my name and you know where ever I am I'll put ear plugs in..."
Amen to that, Lilith; mr m must be getting close to a written warning; I've seen fire and I've seen rain, Aye, right, Jimmy.
Oh for the days when there were two versions of Una Paloma Blanca in the charts at the same time.
James Taylor. Folk's response to Chirpy chirpy cheep cheep.Mr Mongoose. For Hippy, try Gong or Caravan or Hatfield and the North and the other members of what is known as the Canterbury Set.
My college tutor had a turntable in his office and a huge unruly stack of records. The top one, Mr Mother's Ruin, seemed always to be a Spirit LP. It was all downhill from there. Ruined. Goddam hippies. There oughta be a law.Bits of human bone spread all over the place too. Weirdness. Don't take the brown acid.
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