The web page of the Albion Beatnik Bookstore in Oxford: muses and misspills on books, jazz, poetry, stuff like false flags and smoke screen: is randomly decrepid and is neo-bankrupt: is so analogue it's anal.
I saw Fink perform live in Bucharest the other week, as one does. I love his guitar work, his vocal inflections (heightened white man’s blues), his post-John Martyn sobriety. The … Continue reading →
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