It happens like this, that I hear it on the radio. And I hadn't heard it for ages.
I love the radio. When it's an occasion, when it makes you remember, when it makes you discover.
It happens like this, that instead of wonderful things like suicide is painless, by Bill Evans, or Jeep's Blues (an absolute masterpiece, mentioned by nico63, unknowingly to him, and I thank him) I talk to you about this thing here. Which, of course, you know. And love. And analyze. Much better than me.
It happens like this, that if I wanted to play the know-it-all, the professor, I would tell you that Duane Allman spent his (short) life studying and restudying Kind of Blue. And that's why I like it. But it's not true.
It happens like this, instead. That I don't feel like it. I feel like putting on the headphones, blasting this marvel, dancing, not thinking about anything.
And feeling happy.
Forgive me.
Happy holidays.
andisceppard.