This was the first record I ever personally owned. The poster hung above my bed in our weird little space age trailer at the end of the lot in Lynnwood, where a lot of bikers lived.. Bootsy, my sister’s enormous black and white cat, would often wake me by sitting on my chest as I tried to sleep, staring into my face. I wouldn’t dare move because I saw him attack a wolf once in the fields near our space. That poster insert tripped me out, but my soul absorbed the downer degenerate early 70s spirit of the music, matched with reading my brothers’ ZAP Comix and my first TV viewing of Jesus Christ Superstar (edited) with my Catechism-teaching mom. “But Angie, Angie / Ain’t it good to be alive? / Angie, Angie / They can’t say we never tried”
Rolling Stones – ‘Goats Head Soup’ by Chris Estey
