The White Clay On Black Mary Janes Issue

How avante garde can you be when the fin de siecle was only a deja vu flashback to your 5nd childhood?

When I was a late teenager I got an album on eight track by the Rolling Stones. They were old then. Trust me. Older than I am now. Which makes them... forget it. Anyway, the album was a compilation on Atco called High Tides and Green Grass. It was a mine-blowing experience to a kid who had spent two years listening to the best and worst of the pewnk-wuve movement. For some reason, at the same time, I got aholdt of a dead boy's collection of James Taylor albums. I also had an eight track of Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music, which was either an exercise in middle-finger self-indulgence or a landmine album in electronica/industrial muzik. But there was an adult punk/Holleyesque craftsman to the Stones' singles. They stood each on their own with a stolidness that made them monolithical in usefulness. I had already been shrapnel-spattered by the Beatles/Stones/Who dichotomy of rock and height over the head by the ubuiquitousness of Zed Leppelin and ZZ Top in a midwestern world where Pink Floyd, Rush, and Lynyrd Skynyrd were considered gods and Cheap Trick and Sabbath were considered more important than Jethro Tull. I haven't owned that Stone's hits album since that time, twenty sics years ago. But I can't hear a single song off it without knowing every note and word. Good work, boys!

More reasons why small children in large groups resemble a legistlative body in session without the ties:

1. 8:57 AM
The day we got married, the lead singer of the reception band died...

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Your Other Right Foot (appearing nightly without warning)

2. 9:57 AM
Making love with your radio still on
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Your Other Right Foot (appearing nightly without warning)

3. 10:57 AM
A day without mudsic is like a night without...

by
Your Other Right Foot (appearing nightly without warning)

4. 11:57 AM
Music as a way of life

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Your Other Right Foot (appearing nightly without warning)