Song of the day – 470: Erkin Koray

Good morning, glad you could make it. (Looks around.) There aren’t so many of you here today, are there? What’s the matter? Put off by the thrill of the new, the petulant rub of the familiar? I’ll keep this brief then.

To quote something I wrote about Michel Polnareff:

There is so much that exists within the canon of pop music that I cannot even begin to dream of.

A police detective is only as good as her/his informants (or so The Wire teaches me). Likewise, a music critic is only as good as her/his sources.

This tip-off is courtesy of Terry Tolkin, via Facebook. (Dude, he signed Afghan Whigs, Stereolab, Butthole Surfers … worked with ESG, booked CBGBs, and was the man behind one of the very few tribute albums worth a damn, The Bridge: A Tribute To Neil Young. Two of my closest friends – I was best man at one’s wedding, the other was best man at mine – actually named a book after the finest track on it.)

Here it is. 70s acid rock.

And here’s that Pixies track for all you folk who prefer the thrill of the familiar.

by Everett True

My name is Everett True. I am a music critic. This is what I do. I criticise music. The clue is in my job description – music critic. I do not consider myself a journalist, as I do not research or report hard news. I do not consider myself a commentator as I believe that everyone should be a participant. I criticise people and in return I am not surprised if other people criticise me. It is part of the whole deal of being in the public arena. I am Everett True. Believe in me and I have power like a God. Quit believing in me and I no longer exist.