When I was twelve or thirteen, I had a newspaper route, and thus, my own money, so I joined the Capitol Record Club. For those too young to remember, one would order on a postcard 12 albums for a penny, plus postage and handling; then I had to buy 10 or 12 more at full retail, plus P&H.
Ordering those first dozen albums, I got my first six Beatles albums, plus a Herman’s Hermit album. But what else should I select? One I picked at random was Goldfinger by Billy Strange. It turned out Continue reading S is for Billy Strange