The 500 - #153 - The Low End Theory - A Tribe Called Quest

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #153
Album Title: The Low End Theory

Artist: A Tribe Called Quest

Genre: East Coast Hip Hop, Jazz Rap, Boom Bap, Alternative Rap

Recorded: Battery, Green Street and Soundtrack Studios, New York City, New York, U.S.A.

Released: September, 1991

My age at release: 26
How familiar was I with it before this week: Fairly

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #43, rising 110 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Scenario

In 2016, I was grinding through an elliptical workout at the gym, distracting myself with a podcast. That week it was an episode of the longform, interview/conversation program WTF with Marc Maron. Maron’s guest was  Canadian music legend Neil Young, who appears on The 500 list seven times -- as a solo artist and with two groups (Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young and Buffalo Springfield).

Responding to Maron, Young talked about his time as a teen in Winnipeg, which he described as being “in the middle of everything that’s missing.” That cheeky poetic line stuck with me for weeks because of its beautiful ambiguity, artfully critical, yet deeply affectionate.

Winnipeg sits in the middle of the country, practically isolated from other cultural and economic hubs. Its location matches Young’s description, evoking a sense of emptiness in the stark landscape of the Canadian Prairies. Appropriately enough, his thoughtful, sometimes melancholy, lyrics appear to have been the source of his inspiration. For the creative individual, solace can serve as a laboratory in seeking those things that are "missing" and bringing them to life.

Maron and Young pose for a picture after their June. 2016 interview.

A few months after that WTF interview, I probed deeper into the music of A Tribe Called Quest. Someone had recommended their latest release, We Got It From Here... Thank You 4 Your Service, and it temporarily replaced podcasts as my audio distraction during workouts. In fact, it became a bit of an obsession for about three weeks -- dominating my playlist the same way a record on this list can.

We Got It From Here…, released within a week of the election of Donald Trump to his first presidential term, is a politically charged album that tackles a wide spectrum of social and institutional issues, with sharp lyricism and cultural insight. However, despite its heavy themes, the album also offers hope, emphasizing the power of community, and the importance of intergenerational activism in the fight for justice through art.

I had heard tracks from the group before, including Scenario, Oh My God and, my favourite, Can I Kick It? But, this was the first time I checked out  their discography. For years, I appreciated hip hop from a distance. I recognized its cultural impact, admired its lyrical dexterity, but never felt fully connected. Something was missing.

A Tribe Called Quest (l-r) Jarobi White, Q-Tip,

Ali Shaheed Muhammad and Phife Dawg (2011).

As I read up on the pioneering group, that Neil Young quote flooded back. Their music lifted me to a new level of appreciation of hip hop through its layers of richness that I had needed to make me a full-fledged convert.

Listening to Tribe felt like finding the centre of a map I didn’t realize I’d been drawing. Their music didn’t just fill a gap, it defined the space and time, making me realize my understanding of hip hop had been incomplete.

In short, Tribe’s music, its rhythm, intelligence, activist spirit, clever sampling and jazz-influenced sound, was the bridge to appreciating hip hop. Indeed, I would perhaps have been an ardent fan in the ‘90s had I heard  the group’s first two records, (People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm and The Low End Theory). However, I wonder if I was ready for this understanding at that time. Perhaps, Tribe arrived in my life exactly when I was available to receive their message.

People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm,
the debut record from A Tribe Called Quest (1990).

The Low End Theory was Tribe’s second album after the group formed in 1985 in Queens, New York. The players comprised Q-Tip (Kamaal Fareed), Phife Dawg (Malik Taylor), Ali Shaheed Muhammad, and Jarobi White. They met through school and community ties in the late ’70s and early ’80s.

Originally, Q-Tip and Ali Shaheed Muhammad performed as a duo called Crush Connection, later changing their name to Quest. In 1988, during a friendly game of cards, fellow musician, Afrika Baby Bam (Nathaniel Hall), of the Jungle Brothers suggested expanding the name to A Tribe Called Quest.

This name stuck, cleverly capturing their identity. Alongside Jungle Brothers, De La Soul, Queen Latifah, and others, they helped form the influential Native Tongues Collective (NTC), a loose crew of artists known for thoughtful lyrics, Afrocentric themes, and innovative, jazz-infused productions. Additionally, NTC considered itself an artistic movement that rejected the trend toward violent or materialistic rap. Instead, they promoted positivity, individualism and social awareness while embracing collaboration over competition.

Africa Baby Bam (centre) flanked by the other members of
Jungle Brothers -- Mike Gee(left) and DJ Sammy B.

After a modest debut with People’s Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm, A Tribe Called Quest returned a year later with a bold leap forward: The Low End Theory. Released in 1991, the album broke fresh ground by blending stripped-down hip-hop beats with samples from jazz’s bebop and hard bop eras, an unusual and inventive fusion at the time.

Produced by group members Q-Tip and Ali Shaheed Muhammad, the record focused on the essentials of drums, bass, and vocals. This minimalist approach set it apart from the densely layered productions typical of early ’90s rap. One of the album’s defining features was a guest performance by Ron Carter, a Grammy-winning jazz bassist renowned for his work with Miles Davis, Herbie Hancock, Roberta Flack and Aretha Franklin. His appearance symbolically and sonically bridged the worlds of classic jazz and contemporary hip-hop.

Ron Carter, still holding down the groove at 88.

Hailed by some as “The Sgt. Pepper of Hip-Hop”, a nod to the revolutionary Beatles album ranked #1 on Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums list, The Low End Theory is more than just a record. It’s regarded as a cultural blueprint that reshaped hip-hop. So much so that in 2010, the album was added to the U.S. Library of Congress’ National Recording Registry, solidifying its status as a work of enduring artistic and historical significance. With its stripped-back production, jazz-infused beats, and seamless lyrical interplay, The Low End Theory challenged conventions. It showed how rap could tackle social issues with intelligence, wit, and humor...all while eschewing most profanity.

We Got It From Here... Thank You 4 Your Service was the final record for Tribe. The group disbanded following the death of founding member Phife Dawg in March 2016, due to complications from diabetes. Much of the album was recorded before his passing, and his presence is felt throughout the project. The group saw the album as a way to honor his legacy and contributions. It was also a way to bring a 30-year collaborative project to a meaningful end.

Tribe was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2024. In their induction speech, comedian Dave Chappelle shared the following:

“Years ago, in a tough time in my life, I read a Chinese proverb that changed my life. It said, ‘The best meal you can cook is made with ingredients that you already have.’ That proverb reminds me of hip-hop. And it reminds me, in particular, of Tribe.”

Tribe were a revolutionary, groundbreaking group whose sound found me, "In the middle of everything that was missing", and, like a good meal, helped nourish my growing appreciation of the art of hip hop.

The 500 - #154 - Moanin' at the Moonlight - Howlin' Wolf

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #154
Album Title: Moanin' at the Moonlight

Artist: Howlin' Wolf

Genre: Chicago Blues, Electric Blues

Recorded: Wessex & Air Studios, London, England

Released: July, 1959

My age at release: Not born
How familiar was I with it before this week: Some

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #477, dropping 322 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Smoke Stack Lightning

As I continue this blog series counting down through Rolling Stone magazine’s 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time, I still have 153 records left to bring to your attention. Among them are more than 20 albums by artists who were directly shaped by the raw power and deep soul of Howlin’ Wolf -- born Chester Arthur Burnett. In fact, when you scan the full list of 500, nearly 50 albums bear the unmistakable imprint of this American blues legend, whether through direct influence, stylistic echoes, or heartfelt homage. His growling voice, electrifying guitar, and wailing harmonica didn’t just define Chicago blues -- they helped lay the foundation for rock and roll, especially the rise of British rock in the late ‘60s.

As I’ve mentioned in earlier posts, I went through a serious blues phase in my early 20s -- sparked by picking up Crossroads, the massive four-CD Eric Clapton box set. This was pre-internet, so my deep dive into the blues came through liner notes and CD rentals from places like The Software Library and the Western Store on my university campus in London, Ontario.

Before setting out on a solo road trip to Calgary, more than 3,200 kilometers from home, I made a handful of cassette tapes packed with blues tracks. Among them, a heavy dose of Howlin’ Wolf, much of it lifted from a CD I’d rented called The London Howlin’ Wolf Sessions. This was a fortuitous choice. I later learned  this album was a significant piece of music history. It was one of the first true blues “super sessions”, pairing a towering blues legend with some of rock’s most revered second-generation players – Eric Clapton, Steve Winwood, Charlie Watts, and Bill Wyman. It wasn’t just a record; it was a bridge between eras, and it became part of my soundtrack on the open road.

I did not pick up that CD because I understood its legendary importance. It was just one of the half-dozen blues recordings available at those outlets. However, retroactively, I am learning to understand the gravitas of those sessions.

Imagine, if you will:

May 1970. The air inside Olympic Studios is thick with anticipation -- and cigarette smoke. Eric Clapton, already a guitar god, adjusts his amp with a flicker of nervous energy. Ringo Starr behind the drum kit, taps out a rhythm while engineers check levels. Although Bill Wyman and Charlie Watts are unavailable on the first day of recording, the room still buzzes with star power.

Then he arrives

Howlin’ Wolf -- six-foot-six, topping 300 pounds, and every inch a legend -- steps into the studio. Nearly 60, he carries the weight of the blues in his voice, his stance, his very presence. This isn’t just a recording session. It’s a summit. A seismic meeting of generations.

By his side is Hubert Sumlin, his longtime guitarist and musical shadow. He has been flown in at Clapton’s insistence after Chess Records initially balked at covering Sumlin's expenses. Clapton once said he’d give anything to play with Wolf. Now, guitar in hand, he watches his hero take the mic.

The room falls silent.

The tape rolls.

And history begins.

Clapton (left) with Wolf during those May, 1970 London recording sessions.

Moanin’ in the Moonlight is the second of two Howlin’ Wolf albums featured on Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums list. Though technically his debut LP, it’s a compilation of 12 singles released between 1951 and 1959. At its heart is Wolf’s most iconic track, Smoke Stack Lightning, a song inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame and widely hailed as one of the greatest blues recordings of all time. Its hypnotic riff and Wolf’s primal vocals have echoed through decades of music, appearing in films, commercials, and countless cover versions.

Many artists on The 500 list have reinterpreted it (The Grateful Dead, The Yardbirds) but one of my personal favorites is the version by Soundgarden, featured on their 1988 debut album Ultramega OK. Their take is gritty, distorted, and full of early grunge energy. Interestingly, while researching this post, I discovered that Chris Cornell later expressed regret about including the cover instead of an original track. (See below.)

Soundgarden's Chris Cornell in an interview about Ultramega OK. 

Howlin' Wolf died in 1975 at the age of 65, which is not surprising for such a large man. As a friend once commented about the relationship between longevity and size: "If you go to an old age home, you'll see a lot of 90-year-old smokers having an afternoon cocktail, but they are all tiny. You don't see a lot of former basketball players and NFL linemen shuffling about".

Howlin’ Wolf left behind a treasure trove of blues recordings -- gritty, powerful, and timeless. His influence echoes through the music of today. And as we head into the final 150 albums on this list, we’ll hear the unmistakable sound of his legacy carried forward by the likes of Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, Cream, and The Rolling Stones. These artists didn’t just admire Wolf; they built their sound on the foundation he laid. Their legacy has inspired the current generation of artists, including The White Stripes, Alabama Shakes, St. Vincent, and The Black Keys.

The 500 - #155 - Self Titled (Debut) - The Pretenders

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #155
Album Title: Self-Titled (Debut)

Artist: The Pretenders

Genre: New Wave, Rock, Punk Rock

Recorded: Wessex & Air Studios, London, England

Released: January, 1980

My age at release: 14
How familiar was I with it before this week: Quite

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #152, rising 3 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Precious

In the mid-70s, as I was beginning to chart the course of my musical identity, the female voices that dominated my radio speakers were smooth, melodic, and bathed in a soft-focus glow. Olivia Newton-John sang with a breezy sweetness, and Anne Murray’s voice on Snowbird was maple-syrup smooth. Toni Tennille had a rich, theatrical warmth, while ABBA’s Agnetha and Frida's shimmering harmonies glittered like a disco ball. They were also beautiful, so I didn’t just enjoy their singing, I also felt the tug of prepubescent crushes wrapped in every catchy melody.

Olivia Newton-John, one of my adolescent crushes.

However, as the ‘70s became the ‘80s and my teen-age years arrived, something shifted. Deborah Harry of Blondie exploded on the scene with the hit single Heart of Glass from the record Parallel Lines (#140 on The 500). In 1979, it was Pat Benatar's debut single, Heartbreaker, and her voice was a revelation -- a classically trained mezzo-soprano with the firepower of a rock goddess. Her debut album In the Heat of the Night introduced a vocal style that was both technically precise and emotionally raw. She could soar with operatic clarity one moment and snarl with gritty defiance the next. In both cases, another teen-age crush was formed.

Pat Benatar's debut record, In The Heat Of The Night.

Then, in 1980, the first album from The Pretenders, a British band featuring American singer Chrissie Hynde hit the airwaves. I was immediately taken by the first single I heard on Detroit radio, Brass In Pocket. It was a blend of rock, pop and soul but was also part of the new wave sound that had been crossing over to mainstream audiences in recent years.

When Ms. Harry, Ms. Benatar and Ms. Hynde hit the scene, they didn't just sing -- they commanded attention. They brought grit, attitude and a sense of ownership to their music; their image felt radical. These women weren’t just fronting bands, they were leading them -- writing the songs, shaping the sound, and refusing to be boxed in by industry expectations. They weren’t just eye candy, they were a force. Listening to The Pretenders’ debut album, I remember feeling that shift viscerally. It wasn’t simply a new sound; it was a new stance. Chrissie Hynde didn’t ask for permission to be there. She just was. And that presence -- cool, tough, unapologetically female -- redefined what a woman in rock could be.

The Pretenders, (l-r) James Honeyman-Scott (guitar), Chrissie Hynde (guitar, vocals),

Pete Farndon (bass), and Martin Chambers (drums).

Of course, looking back now, I recognize that this shift I felt so viscerally wasn’t new. It was just new to me. There had already been powerful, ground-breaking women challenging the norms of the music industry long before these ‘70s rockers hit the stage. Artists like Janis Joplin, with her raw, soul-baring vocals, and Patti Smith, who fused poetry with punk and refused to be categorized, were already tearing down walls in the late '60s and early '70s. Grace Slick of Jefferson Airplane brought a fierce, psychedelic edge to rock. Joni Mitchell and Carole King redefined what it meant to be a singer-songwriter, writing deeply personal, complex music that stood on its own artistic merit. Tina Turner, even before her solo resurgence, was a powerhouse performer who brought fire and grit to every stage she stepped on. Collectively, those women, only a few of many I could mention, have nine records on The 500.

Canadian treasure Joni Mitchell, whose album Blue is at #30 on The 500.

The Pretenders were formed in Herefordshire, England, in 1978. Hynde grew up in Akron, Ohio, and was raised on rock and roll radio from the ‘50s and ‘60s. However, she longed for more than a small town in the American midwest could offer. She moved to London in 1973, and became enmeshed in the burgeoning punk scene. She worked as a music journalist with the New Musical Express (NME) Magazine and spent time at Malcom McLaren and Vivien Westwood's fetish boutique SEX.

Westwood and McLaren outside the SEX boutique.

While in London Hynde became entrenched in the "scene" and played guitar for a number of failed bands while being romantically linked to Sex Pistol's members Steve Jones and Sid Vicious, as well as Ray Davies of The Kinks. She nearly joined several bands, including The Damned and The Slits, and even had a failed project with Mick Jones of The Clash. She once joked that she "tried to get a band together for three years and was fired from every one".

Hynde in London, 1977, before The Pretenders.

Eventually, the stars aligned and she connected with the line-up that  became The Pretenders and they began playing locally, while working on songs that were destined to become their debut release.

The Pretenders, performing live.

The group has persisted for nearly 50 years and released 12 studio records, including their most recent, Relentless, in 2013. Hynde has been the only consistent member, although drummer Chambers was only absent between 1986 and 1994. The other original members, Honeyman-Scott and Farndon died in 1982 and 1983 respectively. Both deaths were the result of drug use. Honeyman-Scott suffered heart failure, brought on by cocaine use at age 25. Farndon died at 30, a year later, drowning in a bathtub after a heroin overdose.

Honeyman-Scott gravestone. 

The Pretenders were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2005. Hynde and Chambers continue to perform, with Chrissie not only maintaining her legacy as a rock icon but also as a passionate advocate for animal rights. A committed vegetarian, she was arrested in New York during a protest against the use of Indian leather in Gap products -- a campaign that ultimately led the retailer to halt leather sourcing from India.

This marked a significant victory for behind the shiny consumer façade, many Indian leather supply chains are rooted in exploitative practices. Marginalized workers face inhumane conditions and toxic exposure, while animals endure brutal treatment before slaughter. Hynde’s activism helped draw attention to these unacceptable practises -- and proved that persistent and principled protests can spark real change.

Choosing a track for this week’s addition to The 500 Playlist wasn’t easy. The Pretenders’ debut album is, as a friend recently put it, "a perfect record" and "one I would take with me if I could take only five albums to a deserted island". Another said, this is "on my shortlist for one of my all-time favorite albums. Listened to this one many hundreds of times, and never get sick of it. Perfection."

From their shimmering cover of The Kinks’ Stop Your Sobbing to the surf-rock, sci-fi swagger of Space Invader, to Brass in Pocket (the track that first pulled me into their orbit)-- it’s wall-to-wall contenders. In the end, I landed on Precious, the searing opener with its jagged guitars and Chrissie Hynde’s snarling, no-apologies delivery. It captures everything I love about her style: confrontational, cool, and charged with a magnetism that’s equal parts danger and allure.

The 500 - #156 - Paul's Boutique - Beastie Boys

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #156
Album Title: Paul's Boutique

Artist: Beastie Boys

Genre: Hip Hop, Sampledelia

Recorded: 3 Studios in Los Angeles, U.S.A.

Released: July, 1989

My age at release: 24
How familiar was I with it before this week: Quite

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #125, rising 31 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Shake Your Rump

In January, 1996, I was rumbling alone along a remote Northern Ontario highway in my weathered 1990 Chevrolet Cavalier. To the right, under the quiet gleam of the winter moon, rose the Canadian Shield -- a timeless sweep of granite and snow, like something lifted from a Group of Seven canvas. The earth’s ancient bones jutted through drifts of white, stoic and scarred.

Franklin Carmichael's Mirror Lake (1929).

To the left, glimpses of Lake Superior’s frozen shoreline appeared now and then between dark ranks of boreal pine, each sighting brief but breathtaking. I'd left London, Ontario, the day before and was heading back to Lakehead University in Thunder Bay after the Christmas break – 1,400 kilometers northwest, deeper into winter’s grasp.

A familiar route between my home in Southwestern Ontario to

 Lakehead University

My companion on the long drive wasn’t just the road -- it was the pile of cassette tapes scattered across the passenger seat. Among them were familiar favorites that had seen me through many a stretch of this 15-hour journey: Naveed, the debut from Toronto's Our Lady Peace; Superunknown by Soundgarden; Radiohead’s The Bends; Purple by Stone Temple Pilots; Pearl Jam's Ten; and the soundtrack to Kevin Smith’s slacker cult classic, Mallrats.

But there was one newcomer in the mix -- a cassette I’d borrowed from my Teachers College roommate, Randy. It was Paul’s Boutique by the Beastie Boys, and as I switched from cassette to cassette shortly after passing Wawa, Ontario, I had no idea just how weird, and stressful, the ride was about to get.

Some of my favourite listens from 1995.

As I mentioned in my March 2024 blog post about the Beastie Boys' debut album, Licensed to Ill (#219 on The 500), it took me some time to appreciate the group's clever approach to hip-hop. Initially, I dismissed them as brash, frat-boy rock with a misogynistic edge. But over time, I began to understand their humor and artistry, quietly becoming a fan -- though never to the point of buying their records.

That changed when Randy played Paul's Boutique in the college townhouse we shared with two other Teacher College students, Craig and Brendan. From the first listen, I knew something was different. The band had dramatically evolved their sound, and while I didn’t yet grasp the full extent of their creative journey, I recognized that this was something entirely new -- something that piqued my curiosity.

Beastie Boys (1989) (l-r) Michael "Mike D" Diamond,
Adam "MCA" Yauch, and Adam "Ad-Rock" Horovitz

In the three years since the release of License To Ill, the group had matured. They had moved from New York to Los Angeles, intent on making a record with more creative depth. Paul's Boutique embraced a more sophisticated, sample-heavy production style. They collaborated with production duo The Dust Brothers to create a layered, funk-driven sound. The result was a record that was built around more than 100 music samples, taken from jazz, rock, soul and disco. Their lyrics had evolved too. While Licensed to Ill leaned into juvenile humor and rowdy anthems, Paul’s Boutique showcased more intricate wordplay and storytelling.

The Dust Brothers (l-r) Michael "E.Z. Mike" Simpson
and John "King Gizmo" King in their studio (2005).

I can’t recall which cassette was playing as I piloted my Chevy Cavalier along an isolated stretch of the Trans-Canada Highway near Terrace Bay, Ontario. But I do remember the sudden, unmistakable sound of a flat tire, flapping against the snow-covered asphalt like a rubber death rattle. I pulled over, stepped out into the biting cold, and made my way to the rear. The driver’s side, back tire had blown. With numb fingers, I began emptying the trunk, shifting my belongings, destined for my campus townhouse, just to reach the car jack and spare tire buried underneath. I worked quickly, hoisting the car into position, pausing briefly to breathe warmth onto my frozen fingers.

There is only one thing worse than a flat tire. That’s two simultaneous flat tires, in the dead of night, stranded in winter on a remote Ontario highway. And that was my fate, with two flats on the rear axel of my car. In the 4 a.m. frigid blackness, it was a nightmare scenario. I had only one spare, and it had been a while since a vehicle had passed me. In a time before cell phones, I was stranded, truly alone.

A gray, 1990 Chevrolet Cavalier, similar to the one I owned in 1995.

I lowered the car onto its rims and climbed inside, wrapping myself in the comforting warmth of the cabin. A dozen minutes passed in graveyard silence as I watched snow sweep indifferently across the highway. Suddenly, headlights appeared in the rearview mirror. I stepped out, my hazard lights flashing, desperately hoping to catch the attention of this passing motorist.  A mini-van slowed and pulled onto the shoulder. The passenger window rolled down, and after a brief explanation, I found myself onboard with a family of four and their dog. The children slept soundly in the back while the husband and wife told me they were returning to Edmonton, Alberta, after spending Christmas in Toronto with relatives. A short time later, they dropped me at a Husky Service Station, where, thankfully, I was able to call the Canadian Automobile Association (CAA) to arrange for a tow-truck, my membership proving invaluable.

The Husky Service Station near Nipigon, Ontario.

Relistening to Paul’s Boutique in preparation for this blog tugged me back to that ill-fated, cross-province journey -- a trip I hadn’t mentally revisited in years. The details coalesced into a memory as vivid, as if it had just happened. Funny how music works. No matter how much time passes, the Beastie Boys’ second record remains forever linked to that highway event as if etched into the soundtrack of that frosty and wind-swept stretch of highway.

Looking back, it all feels far less nightmarish than it did in the moment -- less an ordeal and more an unexpected, youthful adventure. As they say, time plus tragedy usually equals a "funny" story, and with enough distance, even the worst frights become tales worth telling.

Addendum
In the summer of 2018, while visiting New York City with my wife, we found ourselves near the corner of Rivington and Ludlow streets, the original location used for the Paul’s Boutique album cover. It was actually a fictional store. The band had hung a sign over an existing clothing shop called Lee’s Sportswear. Excited, I snapped the photo below. It wasn’t until later that I realized I had photographed the wrong corner – the actual location is partially visible to the right, across the street. Doh!