Hawkwind
Space Ritual

THE REVIEW

One day, your child will ask you how they came into the world.
You could tell them about cabbages, bees, flowers & pollen... or...
You could remind them that there's a dodgeball tournament raging in the garden, and, once they've pried the balls free from the grip holding them tight, you can enjoy this double CD.

But then there's your wife.
An even more insurmountable obstacle.
But you, who won't get fooled like a rookie, will make her understand that we're in the twenty-first century.
How? Well, simple, Internet.
You pull out her newly received model fist fuck vibrator from oggettisessuali.com, and you'll see her retreat smiling to the bedroom.

Now that you've eliminated the prejudices, now that you’re convinced you can make it, now and only now... the power goes out. I'm sorry, you missed one of the best live CDs on the market, first wave psychedelic rock, when synthesizers were the size of a nuclear reactor, when if you weren't lost in hyperspace you wouldn't get on stage, when everything, and I mean everything, smelled like blooming birches and sauce and patchouli and vetiver.
What a CD you missed, what a fool you are.

Lame.