This time last year I spent a week at the family cottage - the 'ttage ma hall - at Thunder Beach on Georgian Bay in Ontario, my favourite place on earth, where cousins and herb are plentiful, the sand is white, the water dead and clear, and the diamond and courts so near. For the entire time I could listen to NOTHING but John Fahey because it was so suitable as to be ideal.
I'm departing to do the same tomorrow, and fear falling into the same single artist trap. Let's face it, Fahey's come out with nothing new and that recent tribute is completely ill-conceived.
So, my challenge to you, (this is how I'm selling it,) is to send up some sounds for the heighth of lazy summer, keeping in mind I will be driving through the night until bright beginning tomorrow.
