What kind of music was I listening to, when I was in college?
Well, a lot of stuff like this: Isle of Islay, by Donovan.
Don’t get me wrong. This song is at least 500 times better than anything we’re cranking out today, and I still like it after all these years. Really, it’s pretty fair poetry.
But the trappings! Oh, the Flower Power! Such a vast amount of twaddle never could sustain itself, and it sank into a swamp of Far Left Crazy. Oh, the price we had to pay for Maharishi Mahesh Yogi! Run screaming back to the Fifties.
The simple beauty of the song endures. It had nothing to do with the imagery that surrounded it at the time. All that poop has passed away. Oh, to think I was contemporaneous with Hippiedom! I must be careful to seek out all pictures of myself taken back then, and burn them. And everything I wrote–burn that, too.
So where were you in ’66?
All those of you who weren’t born yet are excused.