The early Seventies. A near mythical place. Long beards. Hair length. Guitar solos. The long trek to It seems this occupies a similar space in the imagination of musicians. Listen to Gwennifer Raymond's latest Last Night I Heard The Dark Star Bark.
You can virtually visualise the fur forming on the kitchen kettle. The wooden chairs round a wooden table. Time slows to a pre Internet Tick Tock. Peel some spuds. Warm up the hearth There's an open fire for you to mount a pyre of wood and coal. 'Let's go home. The sky's beginning to bruise. We shall be forced to camp.'
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