There were no cuckoos, no sycamores
We played about the forest floor
Underneath the silver maples, the balsams and the sky
We popped the heads off dandelions
Assuming roles from nursery rhymes
Rested on the riverbank
And grew up by and by, and grew up by and by
(Anna McCarrigle - from Goin' back to Harlan, and the version that thrills me every time is Emmylou Harris's on Wrecking Ball)

Open letter to King Charles

You played at Sasha's wedding and afterwards you went "back stage", a flight of cold, stone steps, put your head in the lap of a girl sitting there and asked her if it had been alright. Possibly, you lit a cigarette; I can't remember. I hope not. Well, was it alright? Are you kidding? It was electrifying! Which, of course, it was always going to be because Sasha doesn't swim in mediocre waters.

For no very good reason, Loveblood reminds me of Love's first album (Love): a beautiful essay in song-writing. Da Capo improved matters and Forever Changes remains to this day one of the seminal albums of the 1960s. So, young Charles, that difficult third album will be your challenge; and the challenge will be the greater because the beautiful first has gone before it. The second we will buy without a thought. The third we will devour, analyse, and compare. In our inadequacy, and our ordinariness, we long for those who rise and rise; we feast on their brilliance and thank our deities for the pleasure they give us. We know what you can give to us; it is less clear what we can give to you, apart from our applause, our loyalty and our love.

Note to readers: here is the link to Loveblood. Do the old-fashioned thing and buy it.