This song makes me feel like I’m in Karate Kid 17, an epic biography about a back porch dwelling pothead that subsides on cantaloupe and coffee and solves crimes in San Francisco. It’s the most 80’s song that wasn’t made in the 80’s. Hot brassy synths! Power vocals! I love it.
Taking 6 months off to drive a circle around the states, with a good, long stay in the south. Just me and Waylon Jennings, a three legged dog named Lucky, and a pound of Sour D.
The beginning of this song is so beautiful and makes me feel so weird, like walking straight into a California memory. Denim jean skirt, palm trees, magic hour, drugs. It’s like my soul is warmed 5 degrees and tilted ever so slightly.