Word: write
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...drummer, the intellectual of the band who started as the manager and became the producer, running the sessions that created the first album for $6,400 in three days. (The studio used was in the rafters of Radio City Music Hall, directly across the street from where I write.) He created a streamlined, densely layered guitar attack that Chris Thomas got down cold a couple of years later on the mammoth Sex Pistols debut LP, "Never Mind the Bollocks...
...late... can’t you see that I’m the 1?” That Josie and the Pussycats song (“Three Small Words”) is so bloody catchy. And it’s good to see that they got credible artists to write the songs: David Gibbs of the Gigolo Aunts has probably never had so many people listen to one of his songs. Plus, continuing the Boston connection, Kay Hanley of Letters to Cleo chips in with vocals. Yay clever bubblegum...
...Jackson, the Bee Gees, the Manic Street Preachers and KRS-One. But the one to listen to is the American release of Tropical Brainstorm, by Kirsty MacColl, who was tragically killed by a speedboat in Mexico last December. I’ve been saving up for the moment to write about MacColl, if only to point out someone with great pop chops (Janet Jackson will do fine without me giving her any publicity, presumably. Sorry Miss Jackson). MacColl’s songs are catchy without being stupid—I would call them intelligent pop in the Sam Phillips/Aimee Mann...
Well, I can’t promise to write a biography on you, but I can certainly put you in my book about NP—and that’s a start : ) I do have one complaint—and it is a minuscule one at that—but you misspelled my name. James Dickinson is the piano player on the Stones’ classic “Wild Horses” and the father of the drummer and lead singer of the North Mississippi Allstars. I’m just a simple scribe who lives...
...Ernest Hemingway also managed a certain amphibianism. He drank prodigiously at night, then had the discipline to rise in the morning and write for several hours before the sun crept toward the yardarm and it was time to drink again. The Japanese novelist Yukio Mishima, a talented fanatic, would attend dinner parties until midnight, then go home and write until dawn. He died by ritual suicide in the midst of leading his private militia in a notably screwball coup attempt at a Japanese army headquarters...