Sixtís

Ekki tóxt okkur lesendum mínum að úrskurða um ofmetnasta popptónlistarmanninn. Sennilega veltist veröldin þrátt fyrir það.

Ég hef áður brýnt menn að lesa blogg hins vitra og vinsæla Arsenalista Nick Hornby. Og af því að Jói H. ljóstraði upp um ástarhatur sitt á hippamússík þá er eftirfarandi tilvitnun í Hornby við hæfi:

The sixties were great, I suspect, if you were in a band, or at an Ivy League college with a draft deferment, singing ‘We Shall Overcome’ and hitch-hiking to see Dylan at the Newport Folk Festival. But if you were an African-American, a policeman, a member of the American working class eligible for Vietnam, a politician, or just about anyone else, then the 1960s were insane - insane as in psychopathic, rather than insane as in zany. For millions of people in US cities, the decade was violent and scary, obscured by a fog of incomprehension and genuine foreboding. Those protest songs were written because there was a great deal to protest about, but somehow it’s the songs themselves, sincere and decent and hopeful, which have come to represent the times. We remember “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll”; somehow, the lonesome death of Hattie Carroll doesn’t seem quite so meaningful.

Og af því mig grunar að Jói H. sé þessi lati bloggari og Spurs-ari, þá vona ég að hann heimsæki Hornby og lesi færsluna sem ber yfirskriftina "Tony Blair" þar sem þessi eldheiti Gooner spáir erkióvinunum velgengni.