And he’s back. Triggering today’s intense Proustian moment are two new tracks from the much missed Whitey. Close my eyes and I could be back at The Mother Bar circa 2002, back aching from lugging 6 hours worth of vinyl around whilst the smell of sweat, mildew, rum and thick cloying cigarette smoke clogs my nasal passages. Good Fucking Times.
Author: John Power | Categories: Music