the eagle never hunts the fly

I just finished reading Laurel Canyon: The Inside Story of Rock-and-Roll’s Legendary Neighborhood.  While it was cool to read about Frank Zappa’s log cabin and Joni Mitchell living with Stephen Stills, I have to admit that in my heart, I still prefer balls-out rockers to any of these hippie fucks.  What the fuck can Stephen Stills tell me that the Music Machine can’t blow out of the water?  You can FEEL this music.  In your groin.

As for Laurel Canyon, it was a decent read, though there was a whole chapter and a half about the Troubadour that had very very very little to do with the book’s thesis statement.  For the record, I love a good chunk of the musicians who lived in Laurel Canyon back in the day.  The ones who live there now suck ass, though.


Oklahoman by birth. Angeleno by fate. I've been in half a dozen bands and own 25 cubic feet of old records. Thank God for Ikea shelves.

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