Sometimes a light don't shine

[At the police station I was told ‘Prison? or rehabilitation?’
I said it really didn’t matter, so I chose the latter
And after 47 days with electrodes in my head, I was nearly dead
Then they said I was fine
So I went outside, within five minutes contemplated another taxi ride,
back to the place where I used to score before.
I guess rehabilitation goes walking out the door]

Even the most casual visitor to this blog will assume that I have a passing affection for
Alabama 3.

I have all the albums, which I never tire of hearing. I have seen them 4 or 5 times live, some of those gigs being among the best I have ever seen. I buy the new records on the day of release, which I can't say about anyone else. I spend wasted hours searching eBay for deleted 12 inch singles, and I exchange dodgy bootlegs with similarly afflicted friends.

Sign of a great record - it will bear repeated listening over many years and will still seem fresh on the 100th play. This is the measure of Exile on Coldharbour Lane, and if you don't already own this record, then have a word with yourself.

Mr D Wayne Love:

When you woke up this morning, everything was gone.
By half past ten your head was going ding-dong
ringing like a bell from your head down to your toes,
like some voice trying to tell you there was something you should know.
Last night you was flying but today you're so low
Ain't it times like these that make you wonder if you'll ever know
the meaning of things as they appear to the others;
wives, husbands, mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers.
Don't you wish you didn't function, wish you didn't think
beyond the next paycheck and the next little drink?
Well you do, so make up your mind to go on
'cos when you woke up this morning everything you had was gone.