The word up on everyone's lipstick
A while back, a friend of mine dared me to do the thing on social media where you post a different album cover a day for 10 days. Just the cover, no comments. The 10 were supposed to be the ones that influenced your musical taste the most.
I failed to meet the challenge, as there was no way to narrow it down to 10. So I kept going until I ran out of steam. It took 40 days.
But the precise terms of the mission meant that a lot of great stuff got left out. Some albums were not influential – my taste for that genre or songwriter or performer had already been formed – but still they were excellent. So for all the records whose covers I posted, I omitted some beauties.
Yesterday, as I selected a soundtrack for some work and some walking, the notion to play this one popped into my head. I can't remember exactly why; some thought I had probably corresponded with a lyric from one of the songs. And nowadays, you just tell your phone what you want to hear, and there's instant gratification. Earworm extermination by Siri, as it were.
Anyway, to get back to this album: Damn, is it good. Not only does it sum up pop rock of 1980 perfectly, but it's aged well. Hard to believe, but it is now 40 years old. Older than MTV, even.
With Ronstadt now retired from singing, there's been a lot summing up of her career. I doubt that this album gets prominent mention; Wikipedia says it's out of print. But for my money it's one of her very best. It runs only about a half hour, but what a good time it is.
Jack, make sure you check out the documentary, "Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice." No matter how much you like her now, you'll like her twice as much then.
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