So, I never liked Neil Young. Not that I knew a whole lot about his music, but when I shared a room with my older sister in my lickel days, she placed a large poster of him over my bed, on my sacred side of the room, and I resented his hairy head thereafter.
Then, some time later, a work buddy pronounced his love for Neil.
“Na,” I said.
Some more time later. Ring, ring. The same work buddy.
“You’re coming with me to see Neil in Dublin, I have the tickets.”
“Gosh, thanks,” I said, while gnawing my knuckles.
Well, a bit magnificent.
So, I spent 93.24% of my wages on Neil Young albums over the next six-ish months.
My work buddy was insufferable. “Told ya.”
PS I played this version of ‘Like a Hurricane’ for my super polite nephew a few years’ back, when he was seven-ish, on the way in the car to a Coldplay concert.
After a while.
Super polite nephew: “Does it ever end?”
Back in the car after the concert, ‘Like a Hurricane’ resumed on the CD player (ancient times).
Super polite nephew: “Nooooooooo! WANT CLOCKS!1!1!”