"Think not of the pain I caused but the healing of my love."
In the vast ocean of thought and emotion lived a form. Through the speakers stained with dust, you hear his voice. He recounts his adventures and conquests. Beautiful women, naked , full breasted goddesses. Divinities of the heavens populate
Fifty years ago this month, the word heavy became tangible. It achieved purpose and meaning, became a living, breathing creature. Jack Bruce, Ginger Baker and Eric Clapton joined together to form one of the greatest bands ever, Cream. All apologies to Page and Plant but they couldn't hold a candle
The year is 1972, and guitarist David Gilmour and the rock band Pink Floyd have finally emerged fully from the Syd Barrett fiasco. Barrett, the one time lead singer and co-founder, dropped out of sight and mind, and the band soldiered on with Gilmour installed as the major creative force.
He exists. Bob Dylan walks this world enshrouded in myth. He is the myth maker, the song and dance man. He is on the TV singing a Frank Sinatra song and doing it very badly. Yet, it digs into your soul. It digs into my soul, until you say, "Wow,
If this were Superman, Metallica would be Clark Kent, as portrayed by a young Tom Welling, and YouTube would be Zack Synder or, if this were Republican primaries they all would be YouTube and we'd have to scrap the premise entirely. Recently on BBC Radio 4, Metallica's manager, Peter Mensch, complained, with good
Summer of 1965, a time of great social and political upheaval, pop music was about to awaken from its great slumber. Bob Dylan was about to test the boundaries of pop when he released the single 'Like a Rolling Stone.' Not only was it 6 minutes long, more than twice