Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out!

Yeah, I’m returning your call.

Oh, so where were you?

Out for a walk.

Didn’t you have your phone with you?

Oh sure, I heard it ring.

And you didn’t answer.

We stand on the shoulders of giants.

Mick was frustrated by the unfinished mess of recordings from the summer in Keith’s basement in Nellcôte. He took control of the sessions in Los Angeles and the songs came together.

The result is the glorious summation of everything dark, joyous, and beautiful in the postwar history of American music. Exile on Main Street is the headwaters; the source for every “roots” recording that followed.

I've seen your picture

Your name in lights above it

This is your big debut

It's like a dream come true

So won't you smile for the camera

I’m less attracted to the flashy, or the zeitgeist. I’m interested in what’s timeless, for instance. I don’t really care about what’s new, I care about what’s good. — Duncan Hannah, 1952-2022.

Yeah, we're runnin' a little bit hot tonight

I won’t kid you, this really puts a damper on my plans to go down Wildwood at the New Jersey shore this weekend.

My censorship experiment has ended and I am no closer to understanding why the Tumblr wizards flagged today’s Ferry Friday post as Mature Content.

As you saw, I reposted with a different song, thinking the word “slave” may have triggered the censorship. Then, I posted songs with that potentially offensive word. Crickets.

Which leads me to conclude, in the words of Sgt. Schultz of Hogan’s Heros that “I know nothing.”