The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents a Bonus Film of the Week! (One From the Vault!)

I posted what follows on Facebook on 24 February, 2024.  It was only my third Film of the Week "sermon" and so I was still kind of figuring out how to do it.  (You'll notice it's a bit shorter than some of my other selections.)  I learned of the death this week of film director Henry Jaglom who directed the movie that I featured that week.  A year and a half later, this film still moves me in frustratingly inexplicable ways.  I think I've only watched it once since I wrote that "sermon" and I need to sit down and watch it again.  Whether or not I will remains to be seen...

I've always liked movies that don't have the traditional, neat, Hollywood/"happy" ending. In fact, I've noticed over the last few years that I've been drawn to films that play with my head—ones with ambiguous endings that leave some viewers pondering it for some time to come and leave others (probably most) thinking, "Well, that sucked!"

I call these films "mindfucks" (pardon my French). Probably the classic example is Stanley Kubrick's 1968 epic 2001: A Space Odyssey. It's been more than five and a half decades and film scholars are still discussing the ending! Other films like Albert Brooks's underappreciated Defending Your Life (1991) have neat, happy endings, but still make you ponder what's out there beyond our own existence.

I feel that this week's film is underrated, underappreciated, and as big a mindfuck as 2001 or even last year's Best Picture Oscar winner, Everything Everywhere All At Once. I actually touched on it a couple of years ago in one of my "Album of the Week" sermons as that album was tangentially related to it.

I first saw this film about five years ago (I won't go into the circumstances as to why I saw it). It affected me—moved me—in such an indescribable way that it was two years before I was able to watch it again. I love the film, but I've only been able to watch it a couple of times since. I have my own interpretation of the ending—or at least, I know how I hope the film ended. Like this week's album choice [1994's Longing in Their Hearts by Bonnie Raitt], I kind of want to check it out again, but, at the moment, I just can't bring myself to do it for one reason or another. Maybe soon...

Released in 1971, this week's film was written and directed by Henry Jaglom (based on his play) and starred Tuesday Weld (who also acted in the original play), Jack Nicholson (who appeared as a favour to Jaglom, shot all of his scenes in one day, and only demanded a colour television set as payment), Phil Proctor of the comedy troupe The Firesign Theatre, and the legendary Orson Welles as a vaguely eastern European magician. If you enjoy having your brain played with, I cannot recommend A Safe Place highly enough.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Film of the Week!

As I pointed out in my Album of the Week "sermon," I wanted to do this last week, but I had no wifi access where I was (which is something of a long story).

Shortly before my involuntary technological exile, I learned of the death of Robert Redford.  I knew he was pushing 90--he did, in fact, turn 89 just last month--so it's not like I was completely taken aback by the news.  But, having grown up on his films, many of which are among my favourites, I was kind of saddened by it nonetheless.

When an actor I like dies, I tend to watch all the different tributes and "appreciations" on all the various news and entertainment outlets.  I make notes of classic films that actor made that I've never seen (in this case, The Way We Were, The Candidate, The Great Gatsby, and Three Days of the Condor).  I note which films I've always liked that I should watch again (Spy Game, Barefoot in the Park, and The Natural).  I also tend to go through my own movie collection and re-watch a few of their films--and with no wifi, I was suddenly glad I had a sizable film library.  (For more on this, check out my Film of the Week post for 19 July of this year.)

In Redford's case, I did watch what are likely my three favourite films of his.  They're not too heavy, there's a lot of humour and clever dialogue--things I'm typically a sucker for when I watch movies.  I still contend that 1992's Sneakers is an incredibly underrated movie.  It's a fun caper/heist film about a group of hackers who get paid to break into banks and other such places in order to find weaknesses in their security systems.  This may actually be my favourite Sidney Poitier film.

The other two films I made a point of watching were the two he did with Paul Newman.  When critiquing films, one thing that gets brought up a lot is chemistry between leading actors.  This is especially true in romantic films--after all, as a viewer, you want to feel that there's some kind of connection between the couple that's supposed to get together and live happily ever after.  I've always felt that Newman and Redford had more chemistry onscreen than a lot of romantic couples in movies--I'll even go as far as to say I thought they had more chemistry than some real-life romantic couples!  It's a shame they didn't make more movies together.

1969's Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid is just a classic all around.  Directed by George Roy Hill, it made Redford a star and gave him the name for his organization and film festival in Utah that seeks out young independent filmmakers and storytellers.  It gave us one of my favourite Burt Bacharach/Hal David songs, "Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head."  It's also one of only two westerns (the other being 1974's Blazing Saddles) that I can watch any time without even having to be in the mood to watch a western.

In 1973, Newman and Redford (and Hill) teamed up again in one of my favourite films of the 1970s which is my film recommendation for this week.  Like Sneakers, it's a fun heist film.  Like Butch Cassidy, it's a period piece.  Set in 1936 in Joliet, Illinois, Redford plays small-time grifter Johnny Hooker.  Along with his partners Erie Kid (Jack Kehoe) and Luther Coleman (Robert Earl Jones), they con a random person one afternoon that turns out to be a numbers runner for "vindictive as hell" Irish mob boss Doyle Lonegan (Robert Shaw).  After Luther is murdered, Johnny goes on the lam.  Before he died, Luther told him to look up Henry Gondorff (Newman), one of the best con-men alive.  The two put together a mob of their own in an effort to swindle Lonegan out of as much money as they can.

The film boats a large supporting cast including Charles Durning, Ray Walston, Eileen Brennan, Dana Elcar, Dimitra Arliss, and Charles Dierkop (who also appeared in Butch Cassidy).  It went on to win seven Academy Awards including Best Picture and Best Director.  Being the period piece that it is, the set design and costumes are essentially characters as well--so much so that it won Oscars in those categories too.  In fact, legendary costume designer Edith Head won her eighth and final Oscar for this film.  And Marvin Hamlisch's Oscar-winning adaptation of Scott Joplin's ragtime classics are today synonymous with the film.  (In fact, I even have the soundtrack album in the CD player of my car stereo as I write this.)  It should also be noted that this is the only movie for which Redford received an Oscar nomination for his acting.

So this week, I recommend one of those movies that I would describe as "cinematic comfort food."  It never ceases to make me smile every time I watch it.  Please enjoy The Sting.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Album of the Week!

I'm technically a week late in getting this out.  I hadn't intended on taking the week off.  I was spending the weekend somewhere other than my own home and the wifi went out.  And since I left my printing press at home, I wasn't able to get any substitute leaflets sent out in a timely fashion.  Sorry.

I apologize in advance.  This week's "sermon" and its accompanying album come from something of a dark place.  As I write this, I'm actually listening to this week's album.  Words fail me in the moment.  I can't for the life of me understand how this album--which is older than I am--can be so relevant to our present time.  I've been thinking about this album a lot the last couple of weeks.  I think part of the reason that I'm amazed at the relevance of this album is the fact that in the 54 years since its release, I don't want the album to be relevant anymore.  After 54 years, it shouldn't be relevant anymore.  We should have fixed our problems and moved on by now.  But I've also observed humanity long enough to know that that's not what we do.  We blame those who disagree with us for the world's problems rather than trying to find common ground and actually fix what's broken.  Consequently, we still have many of the same problems we had then--the only difference now is that we also have social media which allows us to spread misinformation, rumours, innuendo, and even outright falsehoods at a much faster rate than we ever could before.

We seem more divided than ever before in this country.  I'm not the first to say this, and I'm sure I won't be the last.  We've become so entrenched in our own beliefs about who's right, who's wrong, who's on the right side of history, and what our now long dead Founding Fathers actually thought 250 years ago.  And while I'll be the first to admit I'm no different, I'm also open to hearing other viewpoints.  Even if I don't agree with them, I would like to be able to at least understand them.  But I also worry that the person with whom I would be discussing our respective viewpoints might not be as open-minded as I like to think I am.  And in the last few days, I've begun to worry that I could also be investigated for using "hate speech" or some other trumped-up charge that might get leveled against me for expressing my viewpoint.

For a number of years, I've believed that we will have a second civil war by the end of this century.  Again, I'm not the first to say this, and I'm sure I won't be the last, but we definitely seem to be headed in that general direction.  Having said that, I do hope I'm wrong.  But I've also observed humanity long enough to know that if I have to hope for something bad not to happen, it probably will.  Sometimes hope is all we have to hold on to.  And we become dependent on the arts to express that hope, along with every other emotion we feel in the moment.

Which brings us to that still relevant album from more than a half century ago.  Released on Motown Records in May of 1971, Marvin Gaye released his landmark What's Going On, a musical plea for sanity in an otherwise insane world.  Allegedly, Motown's founder, Berry Gordy Jr., didn't want to release the album, fearing that a lot of Gaye's audience would be turned off by political messages in music.  He also--again, allegedly--described the song as the worst thing he'd ever heard in his life.  Although he liked the jazzier sound of the recordings, he felt it was out of date with current musical tastes.  (Gordy has always denied this.)

Without Gordy's knowledge, the single was released to record stores in January.  It became Motown's fastest-selling single at that time.  The album later became both Motown's and Marvin Gaye's bestselling album up to that point (eclipsed two years later by Let's Get It On).  Over the years, the accolades continued.  In 2023, Rolling Stone magazine listed it at #1 on their list of the The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.  Not bad for an album that had the potential to alienate listeners and whose sound was out of date.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the contribution of The Funk Brothers--the "house band" at Motown who played with all of Motown's artists who recorded at the Detroit studios, known as "Hitsville, USA."  This was the first album on which they actually received credit for their work.  A year after this album was released, Motown closed up shop in Detroit and became based entirely in Los Angeles.  For more on this, you can read my Film of the Week "sermon" from 12 April of this year.

In the meantime, in recognition of hard times and hope for a brighter future, please enjoy Marvin Gaye with What's Going On.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Album of the Week!

Based on my Film of the Week "sermon" this week--which, as I said, was unusually presented first--it seemed fitting to continue geeking out about This Is Spinal Tap.

Yes, it was a satirical parody of both the documentary format as well as rock 'n' roll music.  But when I watch it, it seems clear to me that there was a lot of love behind it.  The main reason I say this is because the film doesn't star actors playing musicians.  It stars actors who actually are proper musicians themselves.  Christopher Guest (as Nigel Tufnel--lead guitar), Michael McKean (as David St. Hubbins--lead guitar), and Harry Shearer (as Derek Smalls--bass) performed all their own music in the film.

The songs performed in the movie were all co-written by Guest, McKean, Shearer, and director Rob Reiner.  They chronicle not only the history of Spinal Tap from their beginnings around the time of the British Invasion (when they were still known as The Thamesmen), but also the history of rock music during that time.  Their 1965 single "Gimme Some Money," as well as its B-side "Cups and Cakes," both have that kind of early to mid 1960s pop feel to it.  1967's "(Listen to the) Flower People" clearly embraced the psychedelic movement of the time.  By the 1970s, the group had begun to adopt a heavier sound with such classics as 1973's "Big Bottom," 1976's "Heavy Duty," and--my personal favourite--1974's "Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight."  (NOTE:  Dates were taken from the liner notes to the soundtrack which appears to be a "Greatest Hits" kind of thing.  To be clear, all the songs were actually written in the early 1980s specifically for the movie.)

To further blur the line between fiction and reality, Spinal Tap actually toured off and on over the next 25 years.  They even released another album in 1992, Break Like the Wind, which finally featured the first song Nigel and David wrote together in 1955, the skiffle number "All the Way Home."  When Tap toured again in 2001, some of the shows even featured The Folksmen as their opening act.  (The Folksmen would be featured in Christopher Guest's 2003 mockumentary about folk music, A Mighty Wind, and were also played by Guest, McKean, and Shearer--that's right, they opened for themselves!)

To this day, that soundtrack and everything that follows still sounds, at least to me, like a love letter to rock music in its many varieties over the years, but specifically to heavy metal--admittedly with tongue firmly planted in cheek, but a love letter nonetheless.  So, to complement this week's film "sermon," please enjoy the soundtrack to 1984's This Is Spinal Tap.  It should be noted that the YouTube link does include the 1984 single "Christmas With the Devil" (as well as its B-side, the "Scratch Mix" of the same song) that were included on the reissue of the CD in 2000.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that you should have seen the cover they wanted to do.  It wasn't a glove, believe me.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Film of the Week!

In an unusual breach of my own protocol this week, I'm focusing on my chosen film for the week before I talk about the album I've chosen.  This will make more sense as it goes along.

I've been seriously geeking out most of the year.  A sequel to one of the funniest films of all time was released yesterday.  I still haven't seen it because, unfortunately, I have to work for a living--no spoilers, please.  It's been 41 years since the original film was released, which I think is a record for the length of time between a film and its immediate sequel.  (For those who keep track of such arcane minutiae, I'm pretty sure the prior record was 36 years which was held by both Top Gun and Beetlejuice).  In anticipation of this new movie, there has been a tremendous amount of interest in the first film including a new 4K remaster which was released in theaters a couple of months ago.  A special Criterion edition of the film will also be released in 4K and blu-ray this week.  Pretty impressive for a film that didn't really generate a lot of buzz at the box office in 1984.

Actors Christopher Guest, Michael McKean, and Harry Shearer created the film's main characters (Nigel Tufnel, David St. Hubbins, and Derek Smalls respectively) in 1978 for a TV special that Rob Reiner put together that was "a satire of everything on television." One portion of it was a parody of late-night music programs like "The Midnight Special"--in fact, Reiner did one hell of a Wolfman Jack impression in the clip I saw online.  The band Spinal Tap was officially introduced to the world... and elsewhere.  Over the years, they felt like there was more they could do with the characters and in the early 1980s they decided to make a movie of "England's loudest band" on tour.

The film works on so many weird levels.  Firstly, it's a parody of the documentary format, what's become known since as the "mockumentary."  (Wow!  My spellcheck actually recognizes the word "mockumentary"!)  To make it seem more "authentic," the dialogue in the film is entirely improvised.  Guest, McKean, Shearer, and Reiner--who also directed and played filmmaker Marty DiBergi--would write an outline for each scene and then let the actors (mostly themselves) make it up as they went along.  Christopher Guest would continue using the mockumentary format in many of his subsequent films such as Waiting For Guffman (1996) and Best in Show (2000), and it continues to be used for many television productions like "The Office" and "Parks and Recreation."  

"I met Sting for the first time.  He said, 'I've seen this picture 50 times and every time I look at it, I don't know whether to laugh or cry.'"

--Rob Reiner

Secondly, it's also a parody of rock musicians on the road.  Many of the now classic scenes in the film--from getting lost trying to find the stage to dressing room temper tantrums regarding cold cuts--hit a little close to home for some actual rock stars.  The late Ozzy Osbourne once told Conan O'Brien, "I was the only person in the audience that wasn't laughing, because it really was like a documentary to me... When they got lost going to the stage--that happened."

Because of these factors, no one knew quite what to make of it when it was originally released in 1984.  Rob Reiner--who was making his directorial debut with this film--cut a trailer for it that actually has more to do with cheese than rock music (I've included it below--you'll even see the actors in it).  As such, like I said, it wasn't very successful upon its initial release.  But with the advent of home video, it became a cult classic.  When it was released on DVD in the late 1990s and early 2000s, they included a treasure trove of extra features--trailers, music videos, vintage interviews, deleted scenes that are almost as long as the film itself, and a commentary by Spinal Tap that makes it feel like you're watching an entirely different movie.  In 2000, the American Film Institue (AFI) ranked it at #29 on their list of the 100 Funniest American Movies of All Time.

The film co-stars the late, great Tony Hendra as long-suffering manager Ian Faith, David Kaff as keyboardist Viv Savage, and R.J. Parnell as (current) drummer Mick Shrimpton.  There are also plenty of wonderful cameos from the likes of Ed Begley Jr., Bruno Kirby, Billy Crystal, Dana Carvey, Patrick Macnee, Anjelica Huston, Paul Shaffer, Paul Benedict, Howard Hesseman, Fred Willard, and, as of this writing, SAG-AFTRA President Fran Drescher.  (It was announced just today that she will be succeeded by Sean Astin.)  But, as Marty DiBergi said, "Hey--enough of my yakkin'.  Whaddya say?  Let's boogie!"  From 1984, direct from Hell, please enjoy the only movie that truly goes up to 11, This Is Spinal Tap.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that there's a fine line between stupid and clever.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

The Reverend Will the Presents the Film of the Week!

While I was away from writing these, one of my favourite multi-hyphenates celebrated a milestone birthday.  Brace yourself--even I can't believe it--Steve Martin turned 80 last month.  I noticed very little fanfare around this, although I'm sure there was some.  While regarded as one of the great comedic-actors of the last 50 years, Martin is so much more.  He's an amazing writer--in addition to his writing for film and television (winning an Emmy in 1969 for his work on "The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour"), he's also written novels, plays, articles for The New Yorker, music, Broadway shows, and one of the best memoirs I've ever read, Born Standing Up.  He's an art collector, a magician, and a damn fine banjo player.  He's a true renaissance man.  He's the kind of person that I would love to just sit and have dinner with.  

But as someone who fancies himself a writer, I have to admit, that's what I've always admired about him the most--as Martin describes it in this week's film, the interesting word usements he structures.  He has a way of crafting a story, a sentence, even just a visual gag, that just makes me admire the way his mind works.

I've always said there are three types of writing.  First and foremost, you have the formulaic and predictable (a lot of network television--as much as I enjoy "NCIS," the show definitely falls into this category).  Secondly, you have the story that goes along just fine, predictably or not, and then the writer springs a big surprise twist at the end (for more on this, see the films of M. Night Shyamalan).  But the rarest kind of writing was demonstrated on Martin's 1978 album, A Wild and Crazy Guy.  He told what I thought was the best written and, at the same time, filthiest joke I'd ever heard.  I won't repeat it here, you can look it up.  He talks about a date he had with a woman.  When I first heard it, I got a sense of where the joke was going.  And then he went there, just like I predicted he would.  I was actually kind of disappointed because, as much as I admire his writing, frankly I expected better of him.  THEN he sprung the twist ending, which I never would have predicted.  I laughed so hard, I nearly fell out of my chair.  The only other time I've seen that done was the short-lived drama series "Political Animals," which ended in a cliffhanger that was never resolved.

My favourite films of Martin's are the ones he has also written or co-written.  He's crafted his own stories in such comedy classics as The Jerk (1979), The Man With Two Brains (1983), Three Amigos! (1986) and Bowfinger (1999).  He's also adapted classic works such as Edmond Rostand's play Cyrano de Bergerac and George Eliot's novel Silas Marner (1988's Roxanne and 1994's more dramatic A Simple Twist of Fate respectively).  This week's film is my favourite--both for his acting and his writing--and I think it may be his best work.

In it, Martin plays Harris K. Telemacher, a local L.A. TV weatherman--I'm sorry... meteorologist.  During a luncheon with his girlfriend Trudi (Marilu Henner), he meets Sara McDowell (played by Martin's then wife, Victoria Tennant), a  London-based journalist who is writing an article about Los Angeles.  She contacts Harris to set up an interview with him.  He takes her on a "cultural" tour of the city and subsequently falls in love with her.

Romantic comedy entanglements aside, the film is really a love letter to the city of Los Angeles (with more than a few Shakespearean overtones).  It plays up all the stereotypes that non-Los Angelenos seem to have about the city and its denizens while at the same time embracing them.  With every viewing, I seem to find something different that makes me smile.  Directed by Mick Jackson, the film features a supporting cast of Richard E. Grant, Sarah Jessica Parker, Susan Forristal, Kevin Pollack, Sam McMurray, and a signpost that most of us would love to be able to read.  It also features some wonderful cameos (credited and uncredited) from the likes of Patrick Stewart, Woody Harrelson, Iman, Larry Miller, Frances Fisher, George Plimpton, Chevy Chase, Terry Jones, and Rick Moranis.  From 1991, please enjoy, with a twist of lemon, L.A. Story.

A note about the enclosed trailer--like a lot of trailers, this one does feature some alternate and/or deleted scenes that were ultimately left out of the movie.  This one, however features quite a few of them.  If you've never seen the movie and choose to do so based on what you see in the trailer, just know that John Lithgow's role as talent agent Harry Zell was cut entirely from the final film.  However you can still see him in the trailer as well as deleted scenes featured on the DVD.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill

 

 

The Reverend Will the Thrill Presents the Album of the Week!

I don't usually do this.  In fact in the nearly six years since I started doing these musical "sermons" on Facebook, there has only been one other time when I revisited an album I had written about in the past.  But I somehow feel this particular one is worth re-examining as well.  Weirdly enough, my initial submission of this album was also technically a re-examination, which is kind of a long story, but if you're so inclined, here's what I wrote on 6 April of last year.

My Aunt Gayle recently gave me a book she'd heard about, presumably on NPR (one of the joys of public broadcasting).  Tonight in Jungleland: The Making of Born To Run by Peter Ames Carlin is... well... about the making of what is arguably Bruce Springsteen's masterpiece album, clearly.  The book was published to coincide with the 50th anniversary of the release of the album.  Knowing I'm a fan of "The Boss," and (I presume) knowing that that album specifically is one of my Top 5 "Desert Island" albums, she thought I would appreciate it.  She was not wrong.

Being a Springsteen fan, who not only avidly listens to his music, but has also read quite a bit about it, I was already familiar with some of what went into this album as well as what was on the line for Bruce professionally.  His first two albums didn't sell well and he was on the verge of being dropped by his label, Columbia Records. (SPOILER ALERT:  They're still together today.)  And I was aware of how much work he put into it, particularly the Phil-Spector-Wall-of-Sound feel on the title track, which features more guitar tracks than band members and even a glockenspiel--because, let's be honest, the glockenspiel is an incredibly underutilized instrument in rock music.

Somehow, I was not aware of Bruce's perfectionism.  I mean, I knew about it, but I didn't know about what most of us would consider to be extreme lengths to achieve that perfection--Carlin talks about Bruce having Clarence Clemons record the sax solo on "Jungleland" many, many times over the course of many, many hours in an effort to have the music convey what he heard and envisioned in his head.  He would sit for hours staring at the wall and writing in his notebook, getting the lyrics just right (something I actually understand myself, although I don't have a group of musicians and studio engineers waiting on me to do it).

I was also not aware of what I think are extreme lengths that Columbia went to in order to NOT promote him while he was trying to make his new album.  Apparently, label representatives would pull copies of his previous album--1973's The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle--from record stores in an effort to promote another up and coming artist on the label, Billy Joel, who's second album, Piano Man, had recently been released.  In the meantime, Bruce's manager, Mike Appel, was also going to extreme lengths in the other direction to get his only client's music heard and to get people to go to his live shows.  One of Appel's stunts involved sending cassettes of the title track to radio stations in major markets much to the surprise and dismay of Columbia execs, who had not yet released the single.

After reading the book, I listened to the album again--a couple of times.  Virtually every day for almost a week, I've awakened with some song from it rattling around my cranium.  I listened to it in my car the other day (the best place to listen to it--especially if your car has a stick shift).  Whenever I listen to it, I tend to really get into the music.  This time, I even managed to hurt my wrist while pounding out the Bo Diddley style drum beat on my steering wheel (and I do mean that I pounded that sucker) during "She's the One."  I now had an even better understanding of what went into the making of the album--the heart, the soul, the emotion, the desperation, the hunger--and it made me appreciate it even more.

So in honour of the album's 50th anniversary, I (re)submit what I think is one of--maybe even the--best rock album of the 1970s, and certainly one of the best of all time.  Please enjoy Bruce Springsteen with the epic Born To Run.

Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.

Yours in peace, love, and rock 'n' roll!

The Reverend Will the Thrill