While I didn't always see eye to eye with my Dad...I greatly admired him, what he did, how hard he worked, his razor sharp often cruel university of life tongue/ wit - & his small but excellent record collection - if not for him would I have ever discovered the Stones' Aftermath which I seem to have known backwards by the age of 5 dues to my mother's incessant playing of it on an old grey portable record player - my singing tunelessly "what a drag it is getting old" probably didn't go down too well in a village terrace of septagenarians. Flight 505, Under my thumb, Goin Home fabulous but hardly run of the mill stones from when Brian probably still fornicated more than he did drugs & Keith had yet to develop his frankenstein forehead.
Dad was always ribbing me for singing some earworm, but he was always doing the same & maybe his & his fathers vigorous renditions of "elelven months and ten more days explain my near obsessive bowlly collection.
Also Barry Maguire, early Cat Stevens, Reg Presley, the Kinks especially - no Beatles thankfully - but I've yet to capitalise on his crooning P J Proby....should check him out soon.
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