Not music to my ears

By Bill Ralston In Life

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3rd March, 2013
There was a time when every concert you went to was a landmark in your life, talked about for years, sometimes decades, after. The Stones at Western Springs, Led Zeppelin, Elton John, Joe Cocker (who would have laid money on dear old Joe surviving the 60s, let alone into a new century) and a long line of legends, heard through much sharper ears and seen across a blue blur of dope smoke, back in the day. The music or your ears, I never quite figured out which, were on the tearing edge of distortion, the air was rank with the smell of patchouli oil and the sweet aroma of burning grass, as ...

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