This evening I had the same urge to play a newly purchased disc as I had in 1970, when I bought my very first album... it was February, as well, by chance... forty-two years ago.
I was proud like the French kid with the bottles in that famous H.C. Bresson's picture... humbly, simply proud.
Once it was English prog... now, Bob Dylan's recently reissued radio broadcasting recorded in NYC in 1962... this makes fifty years ago, sharp.
The young, BUT incredibly mature, witty and raw when singin' the Blues and sometimes playing (lovingly said, of course...) a little bozo when chatting with his interviewer, the cool, well informed and witty, as well, Ms. Gooding (here in a famous Diane Arbus' picture).
It's amazingly groovy and impressive hearing Bob quite often thumping here & there the "el cheapo" acoustic guitar here, yet very apt to his musical vision, his mouth harp, his foot stomping on wooden floor, the clunky, noisy, cheap tuning machines squeaking during Bob's tuning and detuning from standard to E open tuning (again, a cool find...) for a couple of blues songs.
The recording is raw but very, VERY communicative... I cannot resist to shot the four sides of the vinyl I almost caressed on my studio way, this evening... enjoying Bob's voice, a palpable presence in my music room, his laughing, his true voice.
The urge, I told you... what can do the love for - and the power of - music is simply swiping away 42 or 50 years!
I own thousands records... and every sought after one is... like the first one.
A miracle.
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