Return with us to those thrilling days o' yesteryear... we're talkin' 1965 here... when Otis, when he wasn't otherwise occupied by parking his ass on a San Francisco dock, was busy inspiring Aretha to take one of his songs for HER signature tune. And we're talkin' about this:
The horns. Omigawd... the freakin' HORNS!
We digress. Now I gots no argument with The Queen of Soul, given that she is one of Dee-troit's favorite native daughters, after all. Her riff on "R-E-S-P-E-C-T/ find out what it means to me/ R-E-S-P-EEE-C-T, take out the..." is one of the finest riffs, ever. That said, Otis' version of "Respect" is the best. Always was, always will be. Period. Full stop. There are very few tunes in my personal Greatest Hits pantheon that have a longer shelf life than this one. I still get goose bumps on my arms when I hear this song. May it NEVER stop... coz I'll be dead when that happens.
―:☺:―
Today has been one of those days. Which is to say I went to bed about an hour before sunrise and got up at the crack o' noon, or thereabouts. That brand o' weirdness knocks the whole damned day into a cocked hat. Plans get scrubbed, things that must be done get deferred to another day, and we're totally out o' synch with the rest of the world. Not that we care about that. That said (yet again), it was ALL I could do to make the blog rounds before the sun passed over the yardarm, which is shorthand for Happy Hour. But... it's all good. It's warm. We're alive. The fridge is stocked with our favorite beer. The humidor is fat. Life is good.
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