My next-door neighbors are a couple of old, retired and very serious musicians. The old lady, 4 ft 8 and rumored to have smiled during the Eisenhower administration, still somehow lures young piano students into her parlor.
I’m often treated to music that’s sounds just like one of these.
First, a showman steps up
Second, don’t call me a racist.
Third, man, machine, or boogie from another planet?
Finally, I’m throwing in this as an example of what the neighbor lady is like . . . talented, smug and with a spine supplemented by a titanium rod stuck up the keister.