THE STABLE SONG by GREGORY ALAN ISAKOV. Story by N.T. McQueen.
On her trip, she bought a baggy t-shirt at a thrift shop. Being the resident movie/book/music encyclopedia, she had asked me while she was gone if I had heard of Gregory Alan Isakov.
On her trip, she bought a baggy t-shirt at a thrift shop. Being the resident movie/book/music encyclopedia, she had asked me while she was gone if I had heard of Gregory Alan Isakov.
Like almost every other trainee genius at art school, I played in a band. Or bands. “It’s like some Northern England punks have rediscovered Motown,” I said. In hindsight, it was a poor description, but it sounded right at the time.
Rural Illinois, 1969 Kissed-Off Lord knows I’m a voodoo chil’. —Jimi Hendrix Until that night a girl had only kissed me. Not I a girl. I was fifteen and for over a year Jimi’d been telling me he was a voodoo chil’, yeah, and I wasn’t. No moon had [...]
In the lee of an old wooden dock with barnacled pilings, fishing boats bobbed at anchor.