The wonders of technology. I downloaded last night the Missing Peace onto my phone. Thru some Bluetooth speakers I play it now from my phone. Now I write this from my phone as I curse my thumbs.
Today I wish I had the Vinyl or at least the album cover and liner. It would be nice to sit here now with the liner in hand.
The album, yes I am writing about the LA Guns album here ain’t I?
It is good. It is LA Guns. I recognize it. . . Instantly. Almost. I recognize the work of an Assassin too on at least one track. I recognize the echoes of Randy Rhoads. Phil’s vocals are as tasty as ever. He has that rasp and yet is crisp other moments, a hint of Gillian’s scream. One track there is a nod to Eric Burdon both musically and vocally.
It is a thoughtful album. Oh a second nod to Randy. Damn. Reminds me of another moment where someone was preaching Johnny Thunders.
All while I read or peruse Patti Smith’s book, Babel. Specifically Sister Morphine. Bliss with my Missing Peace and Sister Morphine. And yet I am being pulled away. Those around me arrive and the day begins?
I will return to this later.