One thought on “Sunday Toona: Southern Man Edition”
Call me an old hippy (I was a bit young for all that “What day is it?” palaver), but I was in the front row of London’s Royal Albert Hall the other year to watch CSN. Steve Stills, at the end of a particularly fine guitar solo threw his “pick” to a very pretty girl sitting beside me in the front row. The pick missed the lady and was flying a distance above my own head, so I stuck a hand up, caught it, then presented it to the gal. Stills, seeing what I’d done, gave me a nod and a broad smile, chucking me a pick of my own at the end of a number a little later.
The band were superb, their harmonies still perfect after all these years – Guinevere, Our House, Wooden Ships… Stirring stuff.
Call me an old hippy (I was a bit young for all that “What day is it?” palaver), but I was in the front row of London’s Royal Albert Hall the other year to watch CSN. Steve Stills, at the end of a particularly fine guitar solo threw his “pick” to a very pretty girl sitting beside me in the front row. The pick missed the lady and was flying a distance above my own head, so I stuck a hand up, caught it, then presented it to the gal. Stills, seeing what I’d done, gave me a nod and a broad smile, chucking me a pick of my own at the end of a number a little later.
The band were superb, their harmonies still perfect after all these years – Guinevere, Our House, Wooden Ships… Stirring stuff.
Great night.