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Cats are cool

Hey, I forgot to tell you.

We have a new animal living in our household, and a new human. Well, the human is not exactly new. She’s our grown-up daughter, one of three.

So Emily needed a place to stay for an undetermined amount of time, and she came packing cat.

Her name is Yuki.

I had some trepidation. at first, wondering how the new cat would get along with our dog. Gus is a small male golden doodle or labradoodle. (Sometimes we just call him psychodoodle).

But she’s welcome to stay as long as I can feed her. The daughter, that is. Yes, the cat, too.

Did I mention the dog is estimated to be 16 or 17 years old? And that’s in ‘people’ years. We rescued her in mid-to-late 2007, in a shelter in San Francisco one block away from the church my wife, Catherine, was working at the time. A shelter worker told us Gus was about 1-year- year old.

I still had some concerns about taking in a cat beyond the two animals’ relationship. Will she go to the bathroom in a litter box that will not stink? Will she meow all the time? Will she be a nightstalker, something to trip over when I get up at night?

The answer is she exceeds expectations. She’s affectionate but will quickly move when shooed. She already seems to know which furniture she can jump up on, and which she probably shouldn’t. (Maybe Gus told her all the rules.)

And surprise surprise, Gus hasn’t tried to eat Yuki or chase her even. Gus pretends like he is ignoring her. But Gus will go get his plastic bone and parade it in front of her, daring her to go for it.

Yawn. Says Yuki.

She isn’t interested.

Then Gus takes a lap or two around the house with a bark or two for good measure. I laugh, Catherine laughs, They make us feel young again.

If, for a moment.

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How to fight a fatal brain disease with vinyl records (slight return)

I just finished my vinyl countdown. And I’m alive.

Do those two things correlate?

Not obviously, but probably.

Five years ago, after receiving the diagnosis of Lewy body dementia, an incurable degenerative disease that has similar traits to Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s, I vowed to review my 678 vinyl records in a blog before I died.

With my post today of ‘Tres Hombres’ by ZZ Top, I have fulfilled my vow. The blog is www.myvinylcountdown.com. This blog version (slight return) is slightly different than the AL.com version.

Three ways the blog helped me slow my progression:

1. Hand-eye coordination. Finger acuity. Using my fingers everyday to type helps my memory, finding the right keys and spelling the words right.

2. Finding music. Intellectual acuity. Hearing songs you had forgotten about or rarely played. Busting out albums still in the shrink wrap. Again a memory challenge as the past comes rushing in. Finding some hidden gems worth $$$. Listen to Sonny Rollins and Thelonious Monk.

3. Organizational acuity. Do you want to organize by alphabet, or genre? Abba to Zappa, or bluegrass to Northern soul?

Thinking back to the day I started this blog (Sept., 16, 2017), I can say I really never thought I’d make it. I wondered about starting an office pool instead — but that would be just wrong.

This is more than an assessment and accounting of my records. This is about using blogging or any hobby as mental exercise and posting publicly to bring awareness to this little known, but not rare, disease.

At the time I made this pledge I didn’t know how long I had before dying — and still don’t.

The numbers on average lifespan after diagnosis are different depending on which source is used, but I was working off of 4 to 8 years. The Lewy Body Dementia Association rightfully points out that every person’s experience is different and some die 2 years after diagnosis and others keep on keeping on for 2 decades.

So I’m at 4 years three months with the blog and about 5 years with my diagnosis. I’m thankful for each new day.

I’ve been through some tough times when hallucinations consumed me. There was a period of time, weeks, months in 2020 when I couldn’t post anything, and I didn’t think I would crawl out of it.

It seemed as if I was living in another dimension or universe.

In my hallucinations, my house was not my house. Depending on the day, it was a counseling center or physical therapy operation where amputees would work out. Then at night it would turn into a research facility where I was the subject of their studies in a room with glass walls for observation and sometimes it was a nightclub.

I was talking to invisible people telepathically. (Wow! I never in a million years thought I’d write that sentence.)

I got to know the other people, or beings, and would engage them in these telepathic conversations. One time I asked Tom, — my son-in-law, — who is British but not an alien, I can assure you — to clear out what I thought was a party going on in the basement.

I went down and began talking to a being whom I could see right through. I asked who he was, where he was from and who all the others are. (It was kind of like the bar scene in ‘Star Wars).”

He said they, like him, were travelers made up of organized energy from the universe; he said something about radio waves and virtual reality. It made total sense when he told me. Now I can’t remember what seemed so real, and what I do remember, I don’t understand. But the general concept was that through virtual reality machines, people could leave their body at home and travel the universe. (Wasn’t this the plot of the Matrix?)

I wandered around the basement-turned-juke-joint full of floating apparitions. An incessant din of bells and bellows came from the elaborate video arcade games. The furniture was alive. I left the basement and came back after a while and it was cleared out. I thanked my puzzled looking son-in-law for shutting it down.

That’s just a few of the hallucinations that made up my days, full immersion hallucinations I call them. I’d also get less complex hallucinations such as a mouse running across the floor, or seeing people’s faces in tree trunks. Once I saw what I thought were people breaking into my car, I ran out, nothing there. But then I looked up and saw them laughing from across the street. It was a hallucination.

I started to learn, or think separately when hallucinating, which helped me control them in keeping my sanity, I would tell Red John, my nemesis in much of this, that he is nothing, that he was not real. It would drive him crazy.

On the medical side of things I started using a new type of medication called pimavancerin, or its commercial name NuPlazid. For me, it was nothing short of a miracle drug.

But that’s only one part of slowing down these rogue proteins that are attacking my brain.

Once the hallucinations stopped I could better figure this out, continue to exercise and eat sesame seeds (supposedly good for brain health.)

I give a big part of my success at keeping the demons at bay with the blog. I can’t tell you how many times I have had to fight myself just typing these words. The Parkinsonian symptoms of the disease make it feel like there are hidden force fields. Getting out of bed being suddenly stuck in the force field and can’t move until I bring my mind back around so its focusing on the task.

Lewy body dementia, like Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s with Dementia, involves the destruction of brain cells by a naturally occurring protein. The protein, called, alpha-synuclein, gets into places of the brain it doesn’t belong, leaving trails of dying brain cells.

But you have, by some accounts 100 billion brain cells, and many aren’t being used, brain researchers say. I’m working by just thinking about it. I imagine turning those brain cells into replacements or helpers to the ones I have left. Researchers suspect that’s what happened in the renowned Nun’s Study where they found extensive evidence of Alzheimer’s disease in several nuns, including Sister Mary, who showed no visible symptoms while alive. But Sister Mary’s brain was marked by lesions, a sign of Alzheimer’s severe enough that it should have affected her cognition. Yet Sister Mary continued her extensive reading, daily walks, knitting. She lived to be 100.

That’s what I want to do. (No not become a nun, but live to 100).

The symptoms of these diseases can be similar, making diagnosis more difficult. But in general, if your first and early symptoms include tremors, foot shuffling but no significant cognitive decline, you likely would receive a Parkinson’s diagnosis; if you are having hallucinations, night terrors, and significant memory loss you would likely get a Lewy body diagnosis. Another protein altogether is involved with Alzheimer’s disease, which also destroys the brain. I was first diagnosed with Parkinson’s before I got a Lewy body diagnosis.

What’s Next?

I’m going to keep the blog up indefinitely. I have a lot more to write about. I’m going to stay active raising awareness for Lewy, and maybe we’ll get past this COVID thing so we can continue our Mike Madness basketball tournament, which raised more than $30,000 in its three-year tenure before COVID shut it down. And my music? What to do with all these albums. I’m still working on that. Oh yes, and before I go I am reminded of a Blood Sweat and Tears song:

When I die and when I’m gone/ there’ll be one child born in this world to carry on, to carry on

I just found out, I’ll be a first-time grandfather in May.

My daughter, Hannah, and her husband, Tom, are expecting a baby boy.

How’s that for a reason to keep on keeping on.

————-

King Sunny Ade to ZZ Top

You are invited to peruse my 678 reviews plus about 100 other posts on a variety of topics. The countdown posts are somewhat arranged alphabetically from African musician, King Sunny Ade, to ZZ Top. The collection, heavy on the pre-CDs-era of the 60s, 70s, and late 80s covers a range of musicians and bands and genres from Led Zeppelin to Carole King, from George Strait to R.E.M. from Sting to the Scorpions.

Also there’s a button on my home page that reads: ‘His and Hurricanes.’ It’s my playful parody of what the world may be like in the year 2525 (if man is still alive, if woman can survive). I worked on it for about a year, dashing off silliness when I had time, until I stopped to figure out an ending. I haven’t resumed it yet so this may also be something to finish now that I’m done with the big ticket item.

Lastly, I’d like to give credit to AL.com data reporter Ramsey Archibald for the graphic that is my home page. He used albums from my collection to make that colorful collage of record covers.

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Frank Zappa– 9, 8, 7, 6, 5

ALBUMS: Freak Out (1966); Mothers of Invention Golden Archives Series (1970); Apostrophe/Over Nite Sensation (1973); Joe’s Garage (1979). Joe’s Garage Acts II and III (1979.)

MVC Ratings: Freak Out, 4.5/$$$$$; Mothers, 4.0/$$$$$; Apostrophe 4. 0/$$$$; Joe’s Garage 4.0/$$$$$; Joe’s Garage Acts II and III, 4.0/$$$$.

On the inner space of the gatefold is a quote from one who is only described as ‘A Noted LA Disc Jockey, who proclaims: No commercial potential.

This was after the release of the two-record, groundbreaking ‘Freak Out’ in 1966. True, in retrospect Zappa has had very few hits over the course of his 60-plus albums. (‘Valley Girl’ with his daughter Moon Unit, and Joe’s Garage are two that jump out.)

Zappa is hard to pigeonhole by genre — jazz, rock, classical, avant- garde, satire. He covers a lot of territory.

He is frequently ranked on best guitarists’ lists. He was an admirer of Edgar Varese, an experimental composer who once said: ‘What is music but organized noises?’

Joe’s Garage

Zappa’s first album with the Mothers of Invention, which included two members of the disbanded Turtles of ‘Happy Together’ fame, is considered a cornerstone of the psychedelic rock wave.

The influence was mind-altering substances. The psyche songs were typically longer with freak-out elements like fuzz and wah-wah guitar, distorted vocals, and unfathomable lyrics and long jams. While the ’66 album ‘Freak Out had most of these elements — Freak Out’s final album side was all one song ‘The Return of the Sun of the Monster Magnet.’

And while it truly was the kind of music that would freak you out (or laugh at the absurdity, it was also a colossal put-on or put-down by Zappa, who did not use recreational drugs and was roasting all things hippie. The biggest Psych-out here was that while listeners were freaking out at the music, the music was holding them up for ridicule.

One song, ‘Flower Punk’ on the Golden Archives best of Mothers’ was a parody of Hey Joe, the blues song made psychedelic by Jimi Hendrix.

Hey Punk, where you going with that flower in your hand/Well, I’m goin’ up to Frisco to join a psychedelic band.
I’m goin’ up to Frisco to join a psychedelic band.

“Help I’m a Rock’ is another song that skewers drug influenced music. Help I’m a Rock is repeated over steady percussion. Then the freak-out begins. ‘Who could imagine we’re going to freak out in Kansas (several voices join in singing Kansas, Kansas, doo doo doo doo.)

Joe’s Garage came out in 1979 when I was settling into Auburn University. I heard this on college radio and ran out to buy the album. (That’s the way it’s supposed to be; there was no streaming music that you pushed a button to get.)

I love the song chronicling the life cycle of a rock band. The album is thematic and uses several of Zappa’s trademark and puerile R-rated tunes such as ‘Wet T-Shirt Night’ and ‘Crew Slut.’ They were kind of funny to a Howard Stern audience, or 13-year-olds.

In the second album, two-record set called Joe’s Garage II and III, Zappa comes up with an excellent instrumental piece called ‘Watermelon in Easter Hay.’

Zappa got some exposure in the 1980s when he took on Tipper Gore and the PRMC.

Zappa obviously was a talent. (He died of cancer in 1993). I think some of his lyrics are sexist. Some were absurdist funny as in the song ‘Montana,’ he sings: ‘I’m moving to Montana soon to start a dental floss farm,’

And he has good advice: He offers this to those moving to Montana or anywhere there is lots of snow: ‘Watch out where the huskies go and don’t you eat that yellow snow.’

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Yardbirds — 21

ALBUM: Favorites (1977 comp.)

MVC Rating: 4.5

Here is the group that has led to all those noisy guitar licks in heavy metal and hard rock.

It was early 1960s and a handful of white British kids became immersed in American blues, singers and guitar pickers. They learned the songs, for which they applied amplification and voila: The amplified blues chords have been heard in songs from Black Sabbath to Deep Purple to Blue Oyster Cult (hey, I could have used Green Day.)

The Yardbirds is a group that at separate times had Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page. Actually there was a short time when Beck and Page were in the group together, according to the liner notes written by Ira Robbins the editor of Trouser Press magazine.

Writing in 1977, when this compilation was released, Robbins said: ‘It only takes a little applied listening to current R-n-R to discern how much of today’s rock traces back to things the Yardbirds did almost a decade ago.‘

Now that was 1977 and this album is culled from songs of the 1960s. Listening to it you can almost make that same case. The blues riffs ring out on much less sophisticated equipment, perhaps, but the song remains the same (if I may pull from a Led Zeppelin song with Jimmy Page on guitar.)

Page, Beck and Clapton are revered like few others and on many lists of top guitarists. I guess I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the original Yardbirds: Keith Relf, lead vocalist and harmonica; Jim McCarty, drums; Paul Samwell Smith, bass; Chris Dreja, rhythm guitar; and Top Topham, lead guitar. Topham’s departure after six months made way for Clapton.

Somewhat ironically, Clapton left the band about a year later saying they were going too commercial for his purist sensibilities. Evidence was the song ‘For Your Love,’ Clapton said.

Well, that’s one of my favorite Yardbird songs (not on this album for some reason) and it was a worldwide hit lifting the band from obscurity.

I say it’s ironic because Clapton starting in the late 1970s has put out more than his fair share of commercial shlock. Some of it was OK shlock but shlock nevertheless. (Shlock is a nicer word than dreck, I believe).

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Back from Fishing

No fish catching for the first time in my last three or four outings at Smith Lake. That’s all well and good. I forgot my gloves and pliers, and I was worried about having to barehand the fish while digging a deep set hook or lure out of its mouth.

I always felt kind of bad for throwing fish back after doing that to them. I mean, here I am, using trickery to rip a bass out of the water while it pursues its constitutional right to seek food smaller than itself.

The sudden change of environment must seem to the fish like it has entered a different dimension.

Upon throwing the fish back in, I imagine it would feel a lot like I did last week before the getaway to the lake. I went to the dentist and received two crowns and replaced a bridge. At times during the two-hour- tooth chiseling, it felt like a hook was in my mouth. (Props to my dentist, though, for a job well done.)

As I was saying, I didn’t catch anything so that was one less worry off my mind as my wife and I sank into vacation mode. Vacation mode is where you put things into perspective and push sad thoughts away.

We sat on the dock, fishing poles by our sides, and inhaled fresh air. The trees were fiery, oranges, yellows and reds. They seemed to have been painted by children using water colors.

On our first day, a beaver swam close to Catherine who was standing on the dock. She said, ‘Aren’t you a cute little otter?’

And that’s when the animal turned over and smacked his tail like a paddle in the water.

I was not an eyewitness.

But she made sure I would see the red moon.

On Friday, she woke me up around 2:30 a.m. to go stand outside and gaze at the moon, which by golly was red or reddish. I was in a daze. I was wearing shorts, a bathrobe with no shoes or slippers. It was freezing. My feet kept finding the sharpest rocks.

I said in my Chevy Chase at the Grand Canyon voice: ‘Beautiful, time to go now.’

But it’s the longest lunar eclipse to occur in nearly 600 years, she said, obviously thrilled with her job as tour guide of the night sky from somewhere near Arley, Alabama.

I wondered: How did I get so lucky to be in that small fraternity of people who get to stand on shards of granite and peer into the sky in 38 F weather, looking at something — now get this — named the Beaver Moon.

It was a good ‘vacay’ though. We built campfires, made S’mores, read books and watched much of the first season of ‘Bewitched’ on TV.

Oh. and just one tip to somehow tie all this into music: Don’t start thinking about the instrumental theme song of ‘Bewitched.’ It gets stuck in your head.

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XTC — 32, 31

ALBUMS: Skylarkin’ (1986); Waxworks — Some singles 1977-1982 and Beeswax — Some B-sides 1977-1982 (NOTE: B-sides album came with the purchase of Waxworks).

MVC Ratings: Skylarkin’ 4.5/$$$$; Waxworks/Beeswax 4.0/$$$$

XTC’s songs hold up well because of their songwriting craft. The band managed to inoculate themselves from the excesses of the synth pop vs. protopunk scene in 1970s and 1980s England.

A Rolling Stone critic called XTC alternative music for people who don’t like alternative music.

The Waxworks collection shows how their songwriting evolved to beat the stigmatization of being labeled ‘alternative music.’ By the time the band issued Skylarkin, it was being compared to the Kinks, the Who and the Beatles.

That’s heady company, and it wasn’t all happy times. The band was involved in a years-long contract dispute with its label due to an unfavorable contract signed in their youth which gave them no ownership of their music.

Though they didn’t ever really hit the big time, they did make the Top 40 chart a few times. The band also became hot on college radio stations following a song on Skylarkin’ called ‘Dear God,’ with provocative lyrics such as: I won’t believe in heaven or hell, no saints, no sinners, no devil as well, no pearly gates, no thorny crown, you’re always letting us humans down …. I don’t believe in you, dear God.

The song’s irony is that it’s framed as a prayer to God, invoking the phrase ‘Dear God’ throughout, something I would suppose required a certain level of belief. I think that was the writer, Andy Partridge’s intention.

The album produced byTodd Rundgren has a great sound and flow with Beatlesque sound production.

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Sun Ra on Halloween — 38

This may be too late since Halloween is over in about three hours. But the best Halloween album I can think of is Sun Ra’s ‘The Magic City. Yes that Magic City.

Sun Ra was a far-out jazz and blues figure from Birmingham. He even dressed up as one could or might for Halloween — in long robes and head dresses. Except he did it all the time, not just Oct. 31.

I bought ‘Sun Ra and His Solar Arkestra, a reissue of a 1965 recording, on a recent trip back to Athens, Ga., and WUXTRY Records.

I’m not including it on my Countdown list because I just bought it and am trying to keep my vinyl countdown to records I bought growing up. But I’m listening to this on a Halloween night and its free form avant garde jazz has prepared me nicely for any scares that are awaiting out in the blackness. Add flutes, saxophone, drums, etc. it makes a mighty psychedelic stew.

Oh what the heck, I’ll put this on my Countdown after all.

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Edgar Winter — 39

ALBUM: Jasmine Nightdreams (1975)

MVC Rating: 3.5/$$$

Well, he gets an A for effort but have mercy, this is a whiplash record. You get whiplash from the sudden shifts from smooth Top 40 style cuts to hard experimental jazz to soul shout outs and guitar histrionics.

Winter has his bluesy brother Johnny along for the ride. For that matter he has much of his regular band which records as the Edgar Winter Group, including Rick Derringer and Dan Hartman. That band was known for its top 40 hits ‘Free Ride’ and ‘Frankenstein.’

The brothers Winter were born with albinism (a deficit of skin pigment) and on the cover and on inside art, photos show both men sporting long white locks. Edgar started his career in a band called White Trash.

This album produced no break-out hits but had several cuts that seem like they could have — most notably the maudlin, but catchy, lead song ‘Tell Me In a Whisper.’

‘Hello Mellow Feelin’ and the rocker ‘Shuffle Low,’ also stand out.

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A Day in My Life Knowing All Things Must Pass

Who said life is boring? From another person’s view, my life is pretty boring. I am somewhat limited by my brain disease. So I don’t drive, I can’t (or, at least, I’m not supposed to) take walks near or far by myself.

I’m going to lead you through a ‘boring’ day for me in an effort to show that living with Lewy body dementia doesn’t mean you can’t smile as the hand of God stirs the pot.

It was Monday, earlier this week, and my youngest daughter, Claire, called me to see if I wanted to go shopping for shoes, among other things. Why sure, I said.

Shopping with my grown- up daughters usually consists of walking around with the daughter for about 10 minutes then hastily seeking a chair. This pattern proved true on this day. I sat in a chair at the front of the store and watched people. That is really more fun than it seems, but its excitement has a short expiration date; luckily Claire arrived in a short time with some items. I’m pretty sure she bought some shoes.

Then we went to Target where she continued to shop for clothes. I wandered over to the section that had vinyl records. Little known fact, you can get some get good records — high quality re-mastered slabs of vinyl at Target and other like-minded stores such as Bed Bath and Beyond. There’s not a huge selection, mostly current best sellers. But they usually have the new re-issued classsics.

I saw George Harrison’s classic ,three-record box set called All Things Must Pass. I had to have it. (Remember we are living in the moment here.) This was a hefty box recently released on the 50th anniversary of its original recording release, and I guess they charged by the pound as it was $69.99. Whew, I dropped the box like it was on fire.

Dang, can’t say that I’ve ever spent that much on a record. If you follow my blog, you will know that about 75 percent of my collection are used or cutouts, or lucky finds at garage sales and thrift stores. With $75, I could probably find 10 good albums at a well-stocked record store or thrift shop.

And this is the smallest version of the set issued in several iterations at higher prices including a crate.

I have sold a couple or three records for that amount and above, so I do have an inkling for what records are worth. In this case you have a classic recording, re-mastered for sound quality, lyric sheets, a poster and, a booklet with photos and such.

I started seeing this as a good value. I’ve wanted this since about age 16, but it was pricey and for the reasons mentioned I felt better spending that money on several records.

I was in a kind of reverie or brain drain as I held the album and shook it ever so lightly to see if it had all the ‘stuff’ in there. I walked away without the album and went to look for Claire. Couldn’t find her. That was the sign I was waiting for.

I went back and snagged the album, found Claire and hustled to the check-out line before I changed my mind. Claire made some comment like ‘whoa’ when she saw the record and its price tag. I had a $50 bill and some other paper money in my wallet — but not enough. I dug through the cubby holes in my wallet and rooted around in my pockets. A few bucks brought me up to about $60 on a $75 purchase. I asked Claire for money, but she doesn’t carry cash like most young adults her age.

So as the chatter got louder in the ever-growing line I negotiated a deal where I split the purchase into two payments by credit card and the rest in cold hard cash.

The clerk said something like ‘They said vinyl records wouldn’t last but they are going strong.’ ‘Yup.’ I said.

On the way home Claire said to me ‘I see what you did there. Break the payments into two receipts, and show Mom just one.’

What? I said with fake indignation. Who have I raised here? She would think that I would try to hide a purchase from the mother of my children? How could she even come up with that idea?

I let out an evil laugh, or maybe just an evil snicker:
“Exactly,’ I said.

I think my daughter was wagging her finger at me. I was waiting to hear what Claire’s blackmail demands would be when I had a thought.

I’ll tell Catherine it was my birthday present from her.

Catherine met us at the door and she immediately asked how much?

‘Um, well, let’s see …” I started digging through my pockets for one receipt. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell a lie. I told her it was sixty-something which was either a half-truth or half-lie because it was really seventy-something. But take away the taxes and bingo I have a sixty-something dollar record, right? The rules are loose in this deft game of deception.

Then … a breakthrough.

I told her it would be my birthday present, upcoming in November. She said that’s perfect, “I’ve been struggling trying to figure out what to give you.’

She was happy, I was happy. I now have a classic record, considered the best solo project from a solo Beatle.

That night as I was making a song request to Alexa — the feminine robotic DJ — to play something, she suddenly got the urge to ask me help her fill out a profile on me and asked some pretty intense questions like what kind of music I like. And then she played some seductive love song by the Avett Brothers.

I looked at my wife and asked ‘Where did that come from?’

Catherine rolled her eyes and said, ‘She’s flirting with you.’

I felt a little dizzy and turned the volume down of the song as Catherine laughed.

So, as I look back over this, yes, it could have been a boring day. Home to store and back again.

Yet somehow it wasn’t.

We are given only a finite number of days. Enjoy them while you can. Because all things must pass.

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Television — 61

ALBUM: Adventure (1978)

MVC Rating: 4.5/$$$$

Tom Verlaine is not a name that surfaces much these days. But in the 70s with the band, Television, Verlaine and his co-horts, including Richard Lloyd, created quite a stir with the ringing guitar sound of its debut album Marquee Moon.

‘Adventure,’ their sophomore offering is just as good, I think. Released in 1978, Adventure continued the guitar sound heralding punk’s transformation into more melodic music. New Wave was upon us.

Verlaine and Richard Lloyd were the guitarists, alternating lead and rhythm. Some of the longer guitar parts sound like a smoother Neil Young epic (think ‘Cowgirl in the Sand’ or ‘Like a Hurricane.’)

I remember getting this in Athens, Ga. at WUXTRY, it came out my senior year in high school.