George, do you sometimes have regrets that The Beatles, basically, have ruined all that exquisite stuff? Could this so happen, in some perpendicular Universe, that no such change happened and music would progress quietly, much the same as, for example, Piet Mondrian art?
Write now, probably, yes, there is that feeling Music is slowly returning to where it belongs, much like a cat tired of chasing an imaginary balloon. But back then the closest one can compare The Beatles or The Stones or especially Dylan is to a drunken teacher sent by some agency to a peaceful village, sending meaningless reports every year and doing everything but educating the girls
So, I suppose these days are gone. When true talent could shine through, be recognized and heard. I leave this Earth soon knowing the times I lived through were glorious.
George, do you sometimes have regrets that The Beatles, basically, have ruined all that exquisite stuff? Could this so happen, in some perpendicular Universe, that no such change happened and music would progress quietly, much the same as, for example, Piet Mondrian art?
I suppose this is more or less the kind of perpendicular Universe in which we're living right at this very moment, no?
Write now, probably, yes, there is that feeling Music is slowly returning to where it belongs, much like a cat tired of chasing an imaginary balloon. But back then the closest one can compare The Beatles or The Stones or especially Dylan is to a drunken teacher sent by some agency to a peaceful village, sending meaningless reports every year and doing everything but educating the girls
So, I suppose these days are gone. When true talent could shine through, be recognized and heard. I leave this Earth soon knowing the times I lived through were glorious.
Etta's narration in The Pick Up is a bit disappointing, like she's reading from a script instead of revving up the crowd.