One Happy Night at a Bar – Ryan Adams & Elton John (p.s. Evan turns six on Sunday)

February 26, 2015 / ds barrett / Leave a comment

When I first started venturing my way back towards vinyl in the late double zeros, I was walking through snow covered sidewalks in downtown Toronto. My wife sent me out of her hospital room for a couple hours as my worried eyes just wouldn’t allow her a moment to rest. All the concern I was showing was ‘overly concerning’ to her about how much sleep I was getting. As if I was the person who people needed to be worried about. So I decided to wander over to the record store to pick up some music.

I needed to get something that brought back a good memory, something powerful, so I knew what I was hoping to buy. Sure enough, both Heartbreaker and Gold were in stock and I bought them. As I went back into the cold my mind wandered back a few years.

In 2001, I had been having a very rough year… I had back surgery that saw a couple discs removed from my spine, and the medication I was taking for pain had sent me into a very deep and extreme depression. As I sat in a hospital room of my own, de-toxing from prescription medication, I leaned heavily on music to see me through. Lucinda Williams, The Pernice Brothers, Deathray Davies, Dressy Bessy, Whiskeytown and Ryan Adams were beside me as I spent many an hour contemplating a single orange screw in the ceiling of my room.

(I know it doesn’t sound happy, but I’ll get there)

Anyway, shortly after my ‘little vacation’ and of course 9/11, Ryan Adams released Gold, which was a phenomenal record, and in the lead up had done Austin City Limits with Elton John. Anyway, I had a $15.00 ticket to see Ryan Adams on a nice warm October night at Lee’s Palace, a bar where I had seen many a band play before.

So, I walked in and the bar was filled with friends and acquaintances from my university days who were all there to check out this guy who seemed to turn heartbreak into a sweeter kind of sorrow; the kind of pain you can live through.

Anyway, the set began, and the crowd was really into it. Smiles and drinks and laughs and a set that was pulling people together, a community of strangers were having a great time. In the crowd I noticed a local musician(Ron Sexsmith), which was pretty standard for shows here, except that, well, he looked to be more excited than the audience. It was at this point, perhaps about 10 songs into the set, that Adams smiles and introduces his friend – Elton John.

Elton “F’n” John… in Lee’s “F’n” Palace… Sir Elton “F’n” John

The energy level in the bar went through the roof. I honestly can’t say how many concerts I have seen over the years, but nothing compares to the moment when Elton John took the stage. They began to play “La Cienega Just Smiled” with John behind a piano and taking over a good chunk of the vocal duties. Then Ron Sexsmith and a couple other local songwriters took the stage and the gathering blazed into John’s “Rocket Man (I Think It’s Going To Be A Long, Long Time).” With smiles going from ear to ear and every person on stage staring at Elton John; it seemed to me that the knighted one was the only person in the bar to have any semblance of calm.

So the night went on. John would stick around for “New York, New York” and depart leaving Adams to play two sets of encores that lasted out for another eight songs. By the time we all exited the bar there was a sense of euphoria that I had never felt leaving any concert either before or since. People were happy. I was happy. In the midst of my shittiest year to date, a year when the whole world looked to be falling into chaos, I went to this concert expecting only music and instead found a life affirming spectacle. Lee’s Palace is only a 600 person venue, but that night felt like a friendly get together with a musician I adore and his friend the living legend. It was the kind of night, the kind of memory, that you can cling to as the weather grows colder.

The snow that night kept falling as I walked back to the hospital holding tight to my vinyl. Several hours after visiting hours I was sent home. Of course, I didn’t sleep, but I did spin my albums, as I watched the clock that would give me permission to go back. Two days later, my wife gave birth to my second son, and after a bit of scary, crazy… stuff – things were good. Yeah, life has provided more snowy nights than I care to think about, but little moments like that night (and the birth of my kids) continue to see me through to another spring. Evan turns six on Sunday.

Thanks Ryan & Elton

Holding history in my hand – The Posies: “I Am The Cosmos”

February 20, 2015April 13, 2015 / ds barrett / 3 Comments

Back in ’93 I was handed a copy of Big Star’s – Columbia: Live at the University of Missouri. It was my entrance into the world of Big Star. Previous to this I had heard the odd track on my campus radio station as well as seeing numerous references as influences by many of my favorite artists, but I had yet to hear a whole album. One song caught me right away.

Perhaps the greatest song the rock masses never heard is Chris Bell’s “I Am The Cosmos.” Even for those lucky enough to have heard Big Star back in the 70’s, “Cosmos” was a single that saw only limited release in Memphis in 1978 and certainly never attained (like Big Star itself) national attention. Bell himself would be killed in a car accident later the same year.

Still, like a few other legendary acts (The Velvet Underground, Flying Burrito Brothers) it seems that those that did listen became musicians themselves. By the early 90’s, power-pop was becoming ‘a thing’ and Big Star started showing up as influences for a plethora of alt-rock acts. So as “alternative-mania” was in full 1992 swing Fantasy Records released Big Star’s #1 Record and Radio City as a single CD, and Rycodisc released Third/Sister Lovers. In was at this point that the Posies covered “I Am The Cosmos” and “Feel.” Around the same time Rycodisc also released a compilation of Chris Bell solo material entitled I Am The Cosmos.

Now, what makes this single of the Posies an important part of music history is what happened the following year. Two students at the University of Missouri asked Alex Chilton if he would be interested in performing some Big Star songs for a concert. With Chilton in Jody Stephens (drums, vocals) also agreed but Andy Hummell refused(bass), which left a hole to be filled on bass, and second guitar for this to be pulled off. Names got tossed out like Mike Mills (REM), Matthew Sweet, Teenage Fanclub and Paul Westerberg, but nothing really stuck until Ardent Records (where Big Star had recorded) founder John Fry pulled a translucent blue single he had tacked to the wall down and gave it another listen.

That single led to the Posies being asked to fill in for Andy Hummell and the late Chris Bell. Not only was the concert a huge success, but it was also released as the live album already mentioned. Suddenly there was “new” music to be talked about with the old material, and word was getting out. A new generation were looking for Big Star records and finding them… something that didn’t happen when the band was originally together.

Of course this is total conjecture, but that single in combination with the re-release of Big Star’s three studio records, led us to todays Big Star revival. All three records have been re-released on audiophile vinyl with a great special edition of Third/Sisters Lovers being put out by Omnivore Records. Had Chilton not passed away in 2010 it is likely Big Star would have done an extensive tour.

“Cosmos” itself has been covered live by Big Star, the Posies, Beck, Wilco, This Mortal Coil and The Jayhawks to name but a very few. If only I could get my hands on that original single.

Of course that is one Chris Bell song. As for Alex Chilton and Big Star… well, it’ll take a few more posts to cover that.

Oh Gloria, where the hell did you come from? Jimi Hendrix : “Gloria”

February 16, 2015 / ds barrett / 3 Comments

My wife and I have been going through boxes of stuff lately. You know, the kind of boxes that traveled from one residence to another but never got opened. It just keeps getting shoved aside for one reason or another, and gets forgotten until a cold day comes along and you begin to dig.

Within a shoebox filled with pictures and letters from my teens is a single of Hendrix covering “Gloria.” It is marked as first time available in United States with a release date of 1979. Weird that I should have no idea how I got it and where it came from. Side ‘A’ plays great with barely a hint of buzz or crackle, while the B-side (the unedited side) starts with a bunch of ‘pop and hiss’ before settling down and letting Jimi ‘take over’. (OK, that wasn’t funny)

I stare at it for a long time trying to see if it will stir a memory. I listen to it, and still nothing. In fact, I don’t recall even having heard Hendrix cover the old Them track. This lack of insight gets a little embarrassing as Hendrix starts taking extreme liberties with the lyrics while my kids are eating lunch.

It’s one thing to explain profanity in music and movies; I’ve gotten pretty good at explaining ’emphasis of anger’ or the decrease of IQ during moments of ‘jocularity’. BUT DAMN, I’m not ready to explain the sexual references and language of a 60’s rock god.

Fortunately, they miss the lyrics as they rock out to the grove being put down by the Jimi Hendrix Experience.

So, is this worth owning? It is Hendix in his prime, although, that sounds redundant as Hendrix died in his prime. It’s just that, as a solo piece of work it doesn’t really add or subtract from his legacy. It’s three guys having fun playing a cover song that has ample room for Hendrix to do what Hendrix does.

You can still find it out on e-bay and Kijiji at all kinds of weird price points that start just under ten bucks and then sail to ten times that, but you know what. I’ll leave a youtube link below, you listen and decide. Me, I’ll file it under – “play only when the kids are at school.”

She danced like a ‘peanut’ – The Lowest of The Low – Musical Memories

February 15, 2015 / ds barrett / 1 Comment

She danced as if she was the missing peanut from the Christmas special. I’m imagining that “Linus & Lucy” is playing each time I see this dance.

Bouncing in spot with her hands in a cute chipmunk like groove that only works for her and it is a sheer joy to see. It’s a totally platonic friendship that means the world to me… her pure enjoyment of life mixed with a look that says “screw with me and you die” has me in awe. She is one of a very small group who can drag this sad “Charlie Brown” out and get him to laugh in a most animated way.

Except this isn’t a cartoon and only 15 people are in attendance as The Lowest of the Low play their songs as if to thousands. The lack of people only serves to give the lucky few more room to move… and they all do. The band seems delighted that everyone is having a great time, and so they are having a blast. At the end of the night I walk over to the ‘merch booth’ where the only thing being sold is the band’s debut Shakespeare… My Butt and slap my fifteen dollars on the table. The patrons are hanging out with ‘the Low’ and there are smiles all around.

http://www.maplemusic.com/product.asp?dept%5Fid=278&pf%5Fid=275%2D50&lang=EN

Seventeen songs play out the stereo. Seventeen songs play from my Walkman. Seventeen songs become part of the soundtrack of what turns into a pretty good summer. And as the fall semester begins I’m seeing the same band, at the same venue, playing the same songs, with the same power, but this time the Trasheteria is at capacity. She still stands out to me. In a sea of people who do the Simpson’s music festival dance (“Homerpalooza”), she is still a peanut.

Only difference is, this time we know all the words, and a group of us, a circle of friends, dance and sing together as “Rosy and Grey” and “Bleed A Little While Tonight” now take on meanings.

As winter begins, there are more shows, more splendid times with friends. One night you’re catching the Rheostatics another it’s Weeping Tile, and then you drive to Toronto to catch Sugar. After all, it’s the early 90’s, and there is always some cool band around to see. Still, even with all these shows and all these bands, The Lowest of the Low gets circled on the calendar in red marker.

Which makes it all the weirder as that less than a year from that first show I saw, I’m standing at the Ontario Place forum with thousands of people watching the Lowest of the Low play. However, this time it is different. The Edgefest crowd is having a good time, but she has stopped dancing, and our group of friends have begun to stare in quiet disbelief. Ron Hawkins, the Lowest of the Low’s main songwriter, singer and rhythm guitarist has begun to smash his guitar in angry spectacle. Sure, I’ve seen musicians smash instruments as part of the ‘rich rebel’ – ‘wow, did you see that’ theatrical display. Classic rock is full of that crap, but this was different… it was real… and it must have been expensive. This wasn’t some wealthy ‘rock star’ smashing his guitar. This was Ron Hawkins, who I’m guessing was just finally able to pay bills with their new found regional success.

When I asked the bands lead guitarist Stephen Stanley about it just a few days later at the Hillside Music Festival in Guelph, he kinda smirked, looked serious and hinted that I should “ask Ron”. Except his tone was saying that the last thing I should do was “ask Ron.”

What I did get is that a new album was imminent. The guys were excited as it was being produced by Don Smith who had worked with 54-40, Cracker and The Rolling Stones. In fact, it looked like everything was in place for this band to be HUGE! Of course, the idea of this is awesome; the band consisted of four great guys who had been working their asses off to get to this point.

The thing is, it was different that night at Hillside. There was no friend dancing to my imaginary “Linus & Lucy”, and the audience was more jocular than enthusiastic. The band seemed almost hesitant with material that they had played hundreds of times. It looked like colour had been bled from them and nothing remained but black and white stills with great music in the background.

Another fall semester began and ‘the Low’ had a show scheduled at the university. The new album Hallucigenia was supposed to be in the stores soon, and tickets for the concert were selling fast. My whole circle of friends would be there, either working or singing along. It was going to be a big party, and maybe… just maybe, our enthusiasm would reach the band and the colour would come back.

http://www.amazon.ca/Hallucigenia-Lowest-Low/dp/B00005B7XF/ref=sr_1_2?s=music&ie=UTF8&qid=1424024680&sr=1-2&keywords=lowest+of+the+low

It never happened.

The show was cancelled, the band had broken up, and I was left kinda shuffling my feet along the ground. It felt like a good friend had moved to another continent without so much as a “see ya later.” Other bands, other friends, had moved in and taken memorable places, but well, it just wasn’t the same.

The band would reunite a couple times over the years, but tickets would sell so quick, the show would be sold out the very moment I heard about it.

A couple years back I was in my favorite record store and spotted Shakespeare… My Butt on display in vinyl. The plastic hit the table and I forget how much I paid, but it did take me exactly where I wanted to be. As it spun on the turntable I lay upon my couch eyes closed and I could see, in perfect colour, a girl dancing like a ‘peanut’, a group of friends having a great time, and a band playing to a few people as if it was to thousands.

Thank You Lowest Of The Low

Eagles Live – Musical Memories

February 9, 2015February 9, 2015 / ds barrett / Leave a comment

“Two chewed, one stolen, leaving this one running strong – Eagles Live IV – Winnipeg, Manitoba”

Recently I found these words that I had written in my cassette copy of Eagles Live. I purchased it as I waited for a train to take me to Portage La Prairie a very long time ago… (1985). It was the beginning of a journey that saw me through most of my 18^th year – Katimavik. It was a youth volunteer program that saw participants doing work throughout the country and even had a military option, which I was chosen for.

I walked up to the counter at the train station and in my best (which was horrible) French accent asked for a ticket to Portage La Prairie, a city that until only a couple days previous I had never even heard of. The guy behind the counter snickered at me as if I was from Mars – “You mean Portage?”

Me – “Sure.”

Him – “Here”

Me – “Could you tell me where the nearest record store is?”

Him – “It’s out there” (pointing at the door)

Me – “Um. Thanks. That’s very helpful.

Him – “You’re welcome”

Somehow I seem to just bring out the best in people.

Fortunately, the people outside were more helpful and I found my way to the record store. My copy got chewed in my Walkman during the flight from Toronto to Winnipeg, and not having it would be like a three year old having his Teddy confiscated… all, my security in the world just gone. This wouldn’t do.

While I didn’t realize it then, the Eagles in general and more specifically Eagles Live was like a lifeline to social well being. Nobody I knew hated the Eagles. Every teen and adult and… well, everybody liked them. During my “oh woes me” – “teenangsty” – depression filled adolescence, they gave me a social tool to talk about something other than my lack of a meaningful life. So damn, I began to know this band inside out. I owned the James Gang and Walsh solo material. I had seen Henley, Frey and Walsh on their own tours and knew who was backing them on the stage. I could tell you their past bands, who co-wrote what songs and their earlier influences… let’s face it – I was an Eagles geek. Sure you could find a lot of other music with me. I was a big music fan and could be found pontificating about the finer points of Van Halen, or Springsteen; maybe waxing poetic about Hendrix or the depth of the Beatles, but at this point in my life, the Eagles were my favorite band.

This cassette saw me move from November frost bite in Manitoba to a food poisoning Christmas in Quebec and finally rappelling of cliffs outside Victoria, British Columbia. It was my personal soundtrack to entertain myself as I got stuck doing ‘kit musters’. Yep, as a part of the Canadian Armed Forces – Naval Reserves, I found myself in minor trouble on a few occasions and ‘kit musters’ were the punishment. This involved your superior ripping apart your locker and bed and then you had to fix it and stand at attention while it was inspected and ripped apart again.

Much to everyone’s delight, I would put Eagles Live on the little tape deck, and go about my punishment with a smile, shutting it off only a few seconds before inspection. It was a little dance played out numerous times. The last few notes of “Life’s Been Good” would ring and I’d shut the deck off and a second or two later someone would arrive. They would leave, side two would start and by the time “Take It Easy” let out the last chords, it was time for another inspection.

Even at the end of the program, as I took a bus from Victoria to Toronto, it was the music of these guys that got me through. Walsh’s The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get and Barnstorm, Henley’s Building The Perfect Beast, The Souther Hillman Furay Band, Jackson Browne’s Running On Empty and the Eagles.

Like the three year old in need of the teddy, I eventually stopped my obsessive need to use the Eagles as a crutch as I found other music and artists. Actually, I found a whole lot more music and artists. The Eagles became more of a name amongst many in an ever growing music collection… but recently, I started looking back. So when I spotted used copy of Eagles Live on vinyl the other day, I couldn’t resist. An old familiar friend just leapt out my speakers and put me on memory lane… which is a pretty cool place to be for a few hours. Now if I could only get that picture disc vinyl edition of The Smoker You Drink, my life would be complete. (Yep – still a music geek)

Thank You Eagles

The “Best-est” Album & Concert Ever – Lemonheads – Musical Memories

January 23, 2015August 8, 2015 / ds barrett / 1 Comment

Back in May of ‘92 I was handed an advanced copy of the Lemonheads It’s A Shame About Ray. It was the very first album review that I did for the now defunct id Magazine, and it was a giant part of “my musical eye opening.” While Seattle had led the world towards what would be called “alternative” (whatever that means) this album slapped me in the face way harder than anything coming out of the so-called grunge scene.

It was twelve songs of pure ‘jangle pop’ joy that played like folk/punk/country/power-pop/lo-fi and whatever other style you decide applies all at the same time. You could play it at a party or a campfire. It had the energy of the Ramones with the pop sensibility of Big Star and the emotional depth of Gram Parsons. Under thirty minutes in length, Ray was a meaningful shot of music that did away with the heavy guitar bombast, and just gave you a perfect group of songs. What guitar solos that existed were of the “blink and you’ve missed it” kind. Hell, when I started playing guitar the following year, the first tune I learned was “Hannah & Gabi.”

To say that I was I was raving about this record would be a giant understatement. Every person that knew me was hearing about it and I was converting people into fans by the day. All this, and their cover of “Mrs. Robinson” wasn’t even on the record yet.

By the time they played Toronto’s Edgefest a couple summers later, it felt like I had personally invited half (ok – maybe a dozen) the audience. However, it isn’t the big show that comes to mind most when I think of the Lemonheads – it’s a much smaller venue that I attended in November of ’93.

The Masonic Temple, also known as the Concert Hall, was the sight of one of the coolest shows I had ever witnessed. The Line up was Magnapop, Redd Kross and the Lemonheads. As Magnapop began its set I noticed that the age of the audience was wickedly varied between aging hipsters who were into great shows and young hipsters who were now caught by the 90’s “alternative” bug. Looking back, this should have been just another of the frickin’ tons of shows I was attending… but no. Magnapop, who most of us had never heard of, began their set tossing candy out to the audience. The crowd was going insane with enthusiasm and applause. Then the brothers McDonald, who are essentially Redd Kross, jumped on stage treating a small venue ‘all ages show’ to a taste of ‘rock star swagger’ that would not have been out of place at Glastonbury. It was ‘hair rock’ for the alt-rock kids who were now “pogo-ing” in a mosh pit that was quickly expanding to all areas. By the time the Lemonheads hit the stage the November audience was dripping in summer sweat.

Then came the body surfing. Oh sure, this was the usual fare for concerts in ’93, but something was different. Usually, it is your friends or a couple very good concert goers who keep you safe from falling. Not this time. The kids – all of them – a community of fans were keeping each other aloft and preventing falls. Women, were body surfing and not getting groped by idiots/assholes in the pit – because… well, this concert was the coolest, safest, “best-est” (yeah I know it isn’t a word) ever! In fact, this is what concerts are supposed to be like! Evan Dando is on stage playing guitar and singing and I’m in awe of both the performer and the audience alike.

Honestly, I had been to a lot of concerts before that one, and a lot more since, but outside of a few local acts playing to their hometown crowds, this was the most appreciative audience I had ever been a part of.

Today the mail arrived with my copy of It’s A Shame About Ray on 180 gram vinyl. It isn’t just one of my all time favorite records, or a ‘must have’ for fans of 90’s music… nope… it’s a good friend I’m always happy to see.

Thanks Evan

Just because I feel like it… an out of place live review! – Cracker & Camper Van Beethoven @ Lee’s Palace

January 17, 2015 / ds barrett / Leave a comment

The great thing about blogging is that you make up your own damn rules about how to write whatever it is you decide you’re going to write about. So while I should talk more about the bands, I prefer to write a bit about the experience, and, well… sorry I digress.

The core of both CVB and Cracker have more than 20 years each in experience playing with one another; the odds of them playing a dud show sits on the right side of zero. Proof is that while both bands played the so-called “hits” (or fan favorites) early and leaned on material from their new records, it bothered no one. The audience, such as it was, seemed appreciative and responded in kind. CVB band members were having fun with each other and bringing it to the crowd who were of course shouting out requests that were in turn rightfully ignored, and cheers that were appreciated.

Cracker seems to have a new line up behind the Lowery/Hickman combo which showed at times with false starts and a keyboard blast at the end of “Teen Angst (What The World Needs Now)” that was just a wash over the rest of the band. However, the overall performance was fun and the fans seemed happy… in a weird kinda way.

Maybe it’s audience age (on the thinning hair side of 40), or maybe the stars were in some screwed up alignment, but things got strange in the pit of Lee’s Palace. First the audience was twisted in some reverse thought process where the periphery of the pit was packed shoulder to shoulder with fans while the stage area had plenty of breathing room. Then, someone best described as looking like a Ford brother (yes those Toronto Ford guys) started putting his “had ten beers too many” arms around people asking them why they weren’t willing to dance with him. My mind popped out the phrase “perhaps the beer stench and sweat are a factor… or maybe it’s the knowledge that large drunken men can be a bit on the intimidating side dude.” Fortunately, my mouth remained in check this time, and everyone avoiding eye contact with him sent his sorry dejected ass in another direction after only two or three songs.

Of course, this could have all just been theatre. Seeing the twisted images of broken people strewn throughout the music of both bands may have just presented the chance for someone to see it as performance art. An interpretive rendering of CVB’s “Lassie Goes To The Moon” with a twist of Cracker’s “Can I Take My Gun To Heaven.” Oddly, neither of these songs was played, so I might just be looking for excuses.

Regardless, it was an enjoyable night out with friends with two bands playing that I absolutely frickin’ love, so, I hit the ‘merch’ booth, bought the new Camper and Cracker CD’s (because they ain’t (yeah I know “ain’t” isn’t a word) on vinyl) and made my way home for an ear ringing night of sleep. Wish more of you people were there.

http://www.crackersoul.com/store

http://www.campervanbeethoven.com/store

Music Memories #1

December 16, 2014December 17, 2014 / ds barrett / 2 Comments

Music Memories #1 – Bruce Springsteen Live 75-85

As Christmas approached in the winter of ’86- ’87 I knew shit at home was going to be bad. When I left to go on Katimavik (a youth volunteer program that kept me away from home for 9 months) my parents were separated. When I arrived home they were together again, and my father had fallen into the same old habits that caused my mother and I to leave in the first place. In fact my father wasn’t really talking to me much. We had a rather large disagreement about responsibility in which I pointed out he was a hypocrite and he pointed out that he could “throw me out of the house threw the fucking key hole.” Needless to say, I had enough sense to realize things would be tense as my father got into his 24 Export Christmas present after dinner.

Of course, everything wasn’t all that bad. A friend had given me keys to his apartment so that I could hang out at his place and listen to tunes as he spent the day with his own family. I in return had taken some of the cash I had left from lifeguarding the previous summer and bought him the gift of music. It was a vinyl copy of Springsteen’s Live ’75 –’85.

It might seem tacky, but as a guy, and knowing enough that my friend would see it this as a cool gift opened or opened, I removed the shrink wrap and made myself a cassette copy of the whole thing as I sat alone and just let the music hit me.

All these stories just started walloping me all at once. Two and a quarter hours Bruce explained the universe to me. I had come back from Katimavik with a renewed sense of confidence, but had done nothing since to foster that side of me. So as Mr. Springsteen sang, I began to imagine what I wanted to do with the next few months.

“Thunder Road” has me thinking about how to get out of the house, and perhaps out of town.

“Growin’ Up” gets me wanting to face a couple of life’s failures and making up for it.

By “Cadillac Ranch” it occurs to me that perhaps adding some fun into the mix would be good.

Each song took on new meaning and laid itself as some kind of plan, and soon this screwed up Christmas started feeling like an epiphany.

The first twenty years of my life shouldn’t be used as an excuse to fuck up the rest of my life. From this point on, my successes and failures had to be my own, and exist separately from where and how I was raised at home.

When the music finished, I took my cassettes out of the tape deck, left a Christmas card on top of the cover of the record and made my way home. Bruce was now singing through the headphones of my Walkman and continued to do so most of that winter. The plans he inspired saw me through the next few years as I moved out, upgraded my high school marks and went to University.

Thanks Bruce

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