When my age reached a suffix of teen, I worked after school. Had disposable income. Or rather, had income, and disposed of it. Spent it on records, then cassettes and a Walkman.
Canadian writer Bill Arnott brought a new dimension to Stereo Stories when he started sending in some jazz poems in mid-2020 . He sent YouTube clips of himself narrating the poems. While driving the empty streets of Vancouver in lockdown..
she would go about her way, tending to everyone while Billy and his bandmates they would jam and stray but always they’d come home to stay
You see Clarence wore an old “Lou” reed like a bamboo cravat and a fine felt suit of ebony the colour of half the keys on a honkytonk piano named Hank
Flashback to the sixties, people living in the cities you got beatniks crossed with hippies sporting horizontal stripes and small goatees play a jazzy, minor chord, learn to smoke, renounce the lord
day one and two Zep II, day three and four Zep IV, four sticks/ the ciggie slim-jims keeping company with Bonham fills of tom-tom
headlights splay across a country roadway/ single lane both ways in groovy groovin’ grooves/ to the smooth, smooth sound of billie holiday