Vincent lost his job at the flea market and needed francs to pay his rent. A wool sock full of francs.
Give a franc here or there.
The future Charlemagne was the property of an old three-legged man across town. He was less than a week away from slaughter. He was fat and happy and his bacon would be the talk of Paris. Or, at least that’s what the old man dreamt of when he slept at night. Continue reading →
One of my good friends sent this to me last night. I enjoyed it. I thought maybe you would too?
Written by the English rock band Procol Harum in the “Summer of Love”, the original is one of fewer than 30 singles to have sold more than 10 million copies. It’s also beloved critically: many regard it as one of (if not) the greatest rock song(s) ever written.
“Many” as in John Lennon. And Tony Soprano.
But, as the saying that goes something like “amateurs imitate, professionals steal”, so is true for this tune (and we haven’t even gotten to Alton Ellis). Continue reading →