COPPERHEAD ROAD by STEVE EARLE. Story by Bill Arnott.
He was going to either live off-the-grid and plot conspiracy theories or start a band and write songs. He chose the latter, which made my life better.
(SITTING ON) THE DOCK OF THE BAY by OTIS REDDING. Story by Bill Arnott.
In the lee of an old wooden dock with barnacled pilings, fishing boats bobbed at anchor.
WALKING IN MEMPHIS by MARC COHN. Story by Bill Arnott.
As the sun set, a man took a seat at a truncated keyboard. A 60-key piano that barely fitted in the space, jammed between the door and a window. With minimal fanfare he played for the few of us there.
BUFFALO SOLDIER by BOB MARLEY. Story by Bill Arnott.
I couldn’t determine his age. Maybe thirty. Maybe sixty. Weathered, muscled and lean.
EVERLONG by FOO FIGHTERS. Story by Bill Arnott.
The wash of sea set a score, emanating from the base of high cliffs. I hoisted a pack and travel guitar, and made my way toward town.
THESE EYES by THE GUESS WHO. Story by Bill Arnott.
Although mine was a record and dad’s was a tape, there was no mistaking a shift in the axis that staked our two worlds.
DREAMS by SAMMY HAGAR. Story by Bill Arnott.
Together we embraced the galaxial view, climbed higher and higher. Reaffirmed choices, what got us there, advances and setbacks, every moment a soundtrack
A BOAT LIKE GIDEON BROWN by GREAT BIG SEA. Story by Bill Arnott.
Sailing hard for ten hours, we ploughed our way into a lee at the mouth of a river, a sailors’ safe haven for centuries.
Cello. A love story by Bill Arnott.
Four strings and one player. Making things better. Alchemy. Magic, and timeless. The wonder of cello.
NUTBUSH CITY LIMITS by TINA TURNER. Story by Bill Arnott.
Mom and I got matching black tee-shirts with strutting, spiky-haired Tina embossed on the front.