The 500 - #93 - Sign O' The Times - Prince

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: #93

Album Title: Sign O' The Times

Artist: Prince

Genre: Funk, Soul, R&B, Rock, Avant-Pop

Recorded: Multiple Studios

Released: March, 1987

My age at release: 21

How familiar was I with it before this week: Several songs

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #45 - rising 48 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Sign O' The Times

As an educator, I am always chasing the perfect school year. I suspect most teachers do the same. Perfection in the classroom, however, is not necessarily defined by the highest grades or the fewest challenges.

It is the year when everything seems to click. The curriculum feels alive, students are excited and engaged, relationships are strong and the classroom becomes imbued with creativity, laughter, curiosity and growth through learning.

In this ideal environment, students all get along, avoiding the social drama that often befalls adolescents; they collaborate respectfully and productively. The teacher leaves work exhausted, but it is the satisfying kind of exhaustion that comes from knowing he or she is doing exactly what they were meant to do.

Of course, teaching rarely unfolds according to plan. External factors can quickly alter the trajectory of a promising year. Contract disputes, difficult parent interactions, administrative changes, staffing reorganizations, or even a global pandemic can derail momentum.

Sometimes, the obstacles come from within. Lessons that looked brilliant on paper fail to connect. Classroom dynamics never quite develop as hoped. A teacher can spend months refining a series of engaging, creative lessons only to have them met with unimpressed, blank stares. Sometimes it takes months to connect with a group of students, and a few "Negative Nancys" can steer others away from success, torpedoing lessons and activities with their resistance, cynicism and disengagement.

Even so, most teachers can identify a few years that stand above the rest. For me, one of those years was 2004-05 with a Grade 8 class at Lorne Avenue Public School in London, Ontario. Another was 2016-17 at Eagle Heights Public School. That year actually began with considerable uncertainty. I started with a Grade 5/6 split class before a school reorganization in October forced everyone to start over.
In many ways, it felt like building a classroom community twice within the span of a few months. Yet the class that emerged from that upheaval was exceptional. The students were funny, adventurous, creative and eager to learn. Looking back, it remains one of the most enjoyable years of my career.

The challenge with a year like that is not surviving it but surmounting the obstacles. Once you have experienced a truly satisfactory year, it becomes the measuring stick for every year that follows. Whether admitting it or not, with the onset of the following school year, teachers hope lightning strikes twice. We are encouraged by memories of spontaneous moments of humour, class discussions that took on a life of their own, and the projects that exceeded every expectation. We become convinced that if we work hard enough, plan carefully enough, and bring enough energy to the classroom, we can recreate the experience. However, the bar is set quite high -- perhaps unfairly for the new group.

The reality, however, is that every class has its own personality. The conditions that made one year magical can never be perfectly duplicated. Different students bring different strengths, interests, and challenges. What worked beautifully with one group may leave another group completely unmoved. Teachers know this intellectually, but emotionally we often find ourselves comparing new experiences against our personal high-water marks.

I imagine entertainment legend Prince faced a similar challenge after 1984.

With the release of his sixth studio record, Purple Rain (#76 on The 500), Prince became one of the biggest stars on the planet. The album generated massive hits including When Doves Cry, Let's Go Crazy, and the explosive title track. The accompanying narrative concert film of the same name was a commercial success, and Prince found himself occupying a rare position in popular culture: He was not simply successful; he was defining the musical landscape of the mid-1980s. For many artists, a project of that magnitude would have represented the unquestioned peak of their careers.

His next two albums, Around the World in a Day and Parade, were also hits by any reasonable standard. They contained memorable songs, showcased Prince's expanding musical interests, and sold well. However, they existed in the enormous shadow cast by Purple Rain. Critics and fans inevitably compared them to the album that had turned Prince into a cultural phenomenon. Fairly or unfairly, there was a growing sense that Prince's greatest work might already be behind him.

Then came Sign O' the Times. Rather than attempting to recreate Purple Rain, Prince took a different approach. He broadened his creative scope, embraced experimentation, and produced an album that showcased every facet of his artistry. Across its 16 tracks, he moved effortlessly between funk, rock, soul, pop, psychedelia and gospel influences, infusing the whole with social commentary. The title track examined AIDS, gang violence, poverty, drug addiction and the threat of nuclear annihilation with a seriousness rarely found in mainstream pop music. Elsewhere, songs such as If I Was Your Girlfriend, U Got the Look, The Ballad of Dorothy Parker and I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man, demonstrated an artist operating at the height of his creativity and confidence.

Many Prince fans and music critics now consider Sign O' the Times to be his masterpiece. It lacks the commercial footprint of Purple Rain, but it offers a more complete portrait of the artist. It captures Prince at his most adventurous, ambitious and fearless. Instead of trying to repeat a previous triumph, he pushed himself into new territory and created something even more enduring.

There is probably a lesson there for teachers. The goal is not to recreate our perfect year. The conditions that produced it no longer exist, and the students who made it special have moved on. Our task is to bring the lessons we learned from those experiences into the present and remain open to fresh possibilities. If we spend all our energy chasing the past, we risk missing the unique opportunities sitting right in front of us. I thought about that a lot over the summer shutdown as I began preparing for the new Grade 7 students I will work with in the 2026/27 school year.

Sometimes, the years we remember most are our Purple Rain years. Sometimes, however, our greatest work arrives only after we stop trying to repeat old successes and face the challenge of creating something new. Sign O' the Times is the sound of Prince doing exactly that.

The 500 - #96 - Tommy - The Who

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: #96

Album Title: Tommy

Artist: The Who

Genre: Rock, Hard Rock, Acoustic Rock, Acoustic Folk, Psychedelic, Art Rock

Recorded: IBC and Morgan Studios, London, England

Released: May, 1969

My age at release: Three

How familiar was I with it before this week: Very

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #190 - dropping 94 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Overture/It's A Boy

There is so much I could write about this amazing record. It is, without a doubt, my favourite from The Who's catalogue. It accompanied me for much of the drive on my first road trip from London to Calgary in 1988. It was also one of the first three CD's I purchased in 1985 when, as an early adopter of this technology, I spent an outrageous sum ($500 ...$1500 adjusted for inflation) on my first CD player. However, if you will indulge me, I'd like to share a lengthy tale. I think the juice is worth the squeeze on this one and I promise to be brief next week.  

The Technics SL-XP7.

In the late 1990s, I became friends with a group of local musicians who also shared a love of hockey. Every Wednesday night, we  would gather at a local rink for an hour of shinny. Post game, we'd head back downtown where some of the players, or a group of our musician friends, would be performing at a local club or bar. It was a unique blend of hockey and music that became one of the highlights of my week.

Farquharson Arena - home of Wednesday night shinny in the '90s.

Late one December, the group's organizer, a talented singer, songwriter and musician named Dave Merritt (well known from the musical projects Adam West and The Golden Seals), arranged a road trip to Toronto. Our mission was to play an exhibition game against a team of hockey-playing musicians from Toronto's Parkdale neighbourhood. Among their ranks was musician and author Dave Bidini of the Rheostatics, at the time one of Canada's most respected alternative rock bands. I had seen the Rheostatics open for The Tragically Hip a few years earlier and had been a fan for several years, so the opportunity to share the ice with Bidini and his teammates was especially exciting.

Four releases from The Golden Seals - Check them out at their website.

Unfortunately, the timing worked against us. The game took place just days after Christmas, and holiday commitments left us scrambling to assemble a full roster. In the end, we managed to bring only nine skaters, including our goaltender, Oscar "Porchee" Macedo. By comparison, our opponents, the Morningstars, rolled onto the ice with a full bench and a noticeably higher skill level.

(Fun Fact: The Morningstars take their name from Dale Morningstar, founding member of The Dinner Is Ruined, an avant-garde rock band active in the ‘90s. Dale also co-founded The Gas Station Recording Studio, which has been called "the hub of the Canadian Indie Rock sound". Morningstar has produced records from well known Canadian artists that include Gord Downie (The Tragically Hip), The Barenaked Ladies, hHead, Thrush Hermits and The Cowboy Junkies.)

Dale Morningstar at the 2025 Toronto Folk Festival.

Despite the odds, we held our own. Much of that was thanks to the aforementioned Oscar Macedo who turned in a remarkable performance between the pipes. When the final buzzer sounded, we had lost just 5-2, a result that felt far more honourable than the circumstances suggested, and we gladly accepted an invitation to join them for beers and burgers, post-skate. I even have a short, grainy video I pieced together shortly after the event. (I used to think it was good footage on my small, '90s computer monitor -- alas, technology proves otherwise).

Team photos, post game, December 1999. Morningstars
at top, our ragtag squad at the bottom.

More importantly, that game served as my introduction to the Hockey Association of the Arts (HAA). The organization brought together musicians, artists, actors, writers, road crew members, and other creative professionals who happened to love hockey as much as their chosen craft. Supported in part by the monthly music and arts magazine Exclaim!, the HAA fostered a community in which creativity and competition coexisted in equal measure.

What began as a post-Christmas road trip eventually opened the door to an annual sojourn, every Easter weekend, to participate in the three-day Exclaim! Hockey Summit of the Arts. My team, The London Fog, even won the B-Division trophy in our first tournament in 2000, defeating the Ottawa Songbird Millionaires 4-3.

The London Fog at our third Summit (2003). I am front row, far right.

Each evening of the tournament, after the hockey playing was done, the teams (numbering more than 20 and from coast-to-coast by 2004) gathered at a Toronto drinking establishment for the Hootennany. Every team was  required to put together a half-hour set of music for the crowd. At first, it was just a big jam. The professional musicians with whom I played let me bring my sax on stage to toot along with them, typically just following the bass line with the four or five notes that I knew worked in key. We performed old rock standards, including Little Richard's Good Golly Ms. Molly, a rockabilly version of Creep by Radiohead, as well as Brand New Cadillac and, of course, London Calling from The Clash.

Some footage from our 2002 tournament we hosted in London is here.

Pucks promoting the 2026 Hockey Summit of the Arts event.

However, as is often the case with creative types, the performances at the Hootenanny became increasingly elaborate with each passing year. What started as a handful of musicians sharing a few songs after hockey gradually evolved into a full-blown spectacle. Teams arrived in costume, complete with entrance music, props and choreographed routines. The bar was being raised every Easter weekend, and we knew it was time for the London Fog to up the ante -- and in 2007, we took our first shot.

Tournament favourites Chart Attack Hack recapture 80s hair metal at the Hootenany.

The good news was that talent was never our problem. Our roster was absolutely stacked with gifted musicians and singers. What we needed was the right idea, something memorable that would entertain the crowd and reflect our team's personality. Several ideas were pitched, and I was thrilled when the group embraced my suggestion to rewrite a selection of songs from Tommy, The Who's legendary rock opera, and transform them into a hockey-themed tribute to our team and the tournament.

The concept gave us another opportunity as well. We wanted to recognize Tom Goodwin, a member of the Morningstars and one of the tireless volunteers who helped organize and coordinate the Hockey Summit of the Arts year after year. Tom was one of those behind-the-scenes people whose efforts made the entire event possible, and weaving him into the performance felt like a fitting thank you. It also helped me craft our closing number. He became the titular "Tommy" in our mini-rock-opera.

Our goalie, and bass player Oscar (r) with Tom Goodwin.

I could hardly believe my good fortune. They had always supported my enthusiastic, though, decidedly average saxophone playing.  By entrusting me to rewrite lyrics to songs from one of rock's most celebrated albums, plus letting me play a little backup guitar, and even sing the final number, I felt like I was attending a rock and roll summer camp.

Performing with The Fog at a 2010 Hootennany. I look
much cooler in stills than I sound live.

Prior to our performance, we took to the ice on Saturday afternoon for a game against the Ottawa team we had defeated six years earlier. Since both teams had already been eliminated from playoff contention, the game was little more than a friendly exhibition.

Ottawa Songbird Millionaires (early 2000s).

Somehow, over a 'few' beers the previous night, my pal, and coach, Steve "Lumpy" Sullivan concocted a scheme to entertain the unsuspecting referees and tournament crowd at the start of the following day’s game. The moment the puck was dropped, every player on both starting lineups would collapse to the ice...as though having been shot. Then, our keeper, Oscar, would skate out of his crease for a breakaway. I think we enjoyed the charade more than the bemused crowd...but we did get some laughs and some cheers.

Wisely, I asked a friend to film the stunt, the video can be seen here.

That night, for our "mini-opera," we performed four songs from the album. We opened exactly as Tommy does, with the Overture and It's a Boy. 

We followed with Drinking Wizards, a parody of one of The Who's biggest hits, Pinball Wizard, featuring Vince Braca on lead vocals.  Oscar then took over singing duties for a comedic version of Uncle Ernie, which we cheekily retitled Stumble About.  We did tend to lean into our tendency to enjoy our share of cocktails on those weekends.

Oscar performing Stumble About at the Hootenanny, the 
"multi-media" presentation behind him.

Finally, we closed with Tommy, Can You Hear Me? and We're Not Gonna Take It, the album's powerful concluding tracks. For the finale, however, we put our own spin on the song's famous refrain, replacing it with the heartfelt message, "We just want to thank you." As the small audience sang along (we were booked early and few people were in attendance), dozens of photos of Tom Goodwin filled the screen, creating a touching tribute made possible by the secret and gracious contributions of his family. I have footage of these performances somewhere, but couldn't track them down for this blog. When I do, I'll post them.

Label from the single, We're Not Gonna Take It.

The Fog played its "last" game in April, 2011. By that point, most of us were  in our late-40s with a few members in their 50s. We still played pick-up hockey in non-competitive beer leagues (much the way the team began), but our days of late-night carousing coupled with multiple competitive hockey games are behind us.

Fittingly, for The Fog’s final game in 2011 we organized a shinny match against friends of the team and played on a Saturday afternoon in London. It didn't feel like "the last game" at the time and, maybe, it won't be. But if it was our swan song, I will take a boatload of memories into hockey retirement. 

A photo from our "last" game. April 23, 2011

Thanks for indulging me with this extra long, nostalgic post. Next week, we'll leave dressing rooms, power chords and rock-operas behind, but dive into a little psychedelia with Miles Davis, as he charts the unknown edges of jazz with his 1970 record, Bitches Brew.

The 500 - #110 - Loaded - The Velvet Underground

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: #110
Album Title: Loaded
Artist: The Velvet Underground
Genre: Rock, Pop, Proto Punk
Recorded: Atlantic Studios, New York, USA

Released: November, 1970
My age at release: 5
How familiar was I with it before this week: A couple of songs
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #242, dropping 132 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Sweet Jane

As a teen, I became an avid record shopper. I worked part-time jobs from the age of 14 and always set aside money for my weekend trips downtown to the record stores, especially the used bins at Dr. Disc. Discovering music felt like a pursuit, almost a sport.

Teenage friendships are always a little competitive. We wanted to win at sports, board games, cards, and, perhaps most importantly, we wanted to be the first to uncover a new band. There was real status in putting a record on the turntable at a house party and having it win over the room. It was also humbling to put one on and have someone else switch it off mid-song because the crowd had deemed it lame.

A house party from the 1980s - from the internet, but perfectly
reminiscent of the ones I attended.

With that realization came something stranger -- possessiveness. We wanted the bands we had discovered to succeed...but not too much. We wanted our “finds’ to remain reachable by playing at small, intimate venues, and drifting into the pub next door after a concert to mingle with the crowd. In some unspoken way, we wanted them to remain ours, our special thing, shared only among those who were "in the know".

Marillion, a band I discovered in 1983 was one of those
bands I wanted to keep within my circle of friends.

When a new record from one of “your” bands hit the shelves, it usually came with a complication. A single might slip onto the radio, or a video would start popping up on MuchMusic (Canada's version of MTV). Of course, you were happy to have new material and you wanted the record to sell well enough to keep the band afloat and fund another tour. But what you didn’t want was a hit. Not a real one.

In 1985, Marillion had its first bona-fide hit with Kayleigh.
I was excited for them, but also worried it meant mainstream popularity.

Nothing triggered indignation faster than seeing that music escape your circle. If someone from another clique, one with, in our estimation, terrible taste, suddenly showed up wearing that band’s T‑shirt, it felt like a violation. The voice in your head would scream "Poser!", "Tourist!", "Bandwagon Jumper!" You’d known about this band for years. You’d earned the knowledge that only comes from discovering a rare EP in a dusty record shop or late‑night listens dissecting the lyrics from one of their deepest cuts. Their sudden popularity in the commercial world didn’t feel like success; it felt like theft.

Loaded, the fourth studio release from The Velvet Underground, was conceived as an album full of hits. The band, already close to fracturing, and effectively doing so after the record came out, had been pushed by Atlantic Records to write songs with clear commercial potential. The title works on multiple levels. It is a nod to the slang term (loaded) for intoxication on alcohol or drugs, and a more literal raison d’etre...deliver an album "loaded" with songs that might top the charts.

The Velvet Underground in 1970. (l-r) Doug Yule, Lou Reed,
Sterling Morrison and Maureen (Moe) Tucker.

It didn’t succeed, at least not in the way Atlantic Records had hoped. None of the three singles released from Loaded managed to crack the Top 40. What the band did create, however, was an enormously enjoyable pop record and one that moves easily and pleasantly through multiple genres. It has also steadily grown in stature over time. In retrospect, Loaded sounds less like a failed bid for commercial relevance and more like a quiet triumph, its reputation solidified by the acclaim of critics and its high placement (#110) on Rolling Stone Magazine’s 500 Greatest Albums of All Time 2012 list.

Musically, Loaded casts a wide net and I thoroughly enjoyed listening to it repeatedly in preparation for this blog post. The album moves comfortably between straightforward rock and roll and gentler pop, drawing heavily on early‑'60s radio sounds that Lou Reed, the band’s primary vocalist and leader, clearly absorbed as a listener long before he became a songwriter. There are traces of garage rock in the lean guitar work, folk‑rock in the conversational vocals, simple chord progressions, and even a touch of country and soul in the album’s looser rhythms and warm harmonies. Unlike earlier Velvet Underground records, which often leaned into confrontation or abstraction, Loaded feels grounded in familiar genres. It’s an album that sounds intentionally approachable, as if the Velvet Underground were testing how close they could move toward the mainstream while still sounding unmistakably like themselves.

Lou Reed played his final show with the Velvet Underground on
August 23, 1970 - before Loaded was released.

So, I can’t help but wonder if there was a teenager like me in 1970. Someone who had discovered The Velvet Underground with their 1967 debut (#13 on The 500), who had grown alongside them through White Light/White Heat (#293) and the self‑titled third record (#316). When that imaginary teen first heard the pop sensibilities creeping into Loaded, did he/she worry that tourists and poseurs and bandwagon jumpers from high school were about to start sporting Velvet Underground T‑shirts, absent‑mindedly humming the melody to Sweet Jane? I want that Velvet fan to know something: You’re not alone. The 1985 version of me feels your pain.

The 500 - #115 - The Who Sell Out - The Who

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 #:115
Album Title: The Who Sell Out 
Artist: The Who
Genre: Rock, Art Pop, Power Pop, Mod Pop
Recorded: Multiple Studios in London, Nashville, Los Angeles and New York

Released: December, 1967
My age at release: 2
How familiar was I with it before this week: Somewhat
Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #316, dropping 201 places

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: I Can See For Miles

In the mid‑eighties, during a stretch when my Who obsession was in full bloom, I must have picked up The Who Sell Out a dozen times in local record shops, debating whether to add it to my growing collection. The cover alone made it hard to resist. Guitarist/singer Pete Townshend rolling an oversized deodorant stick under his arm beside lead vocalist Roger Daltrey, soaking in a bathtub of baked beans. Flip it over and the spoof ads continue. There is drummer Keith Moon smearing acne cream across his face, and bassist John Entwistle draped in cheetah print with a bikini‑clad model on his arm, pitching a Charles Atlas fitness program. It was all so wonderfully odd.

Back cover to The Who Sells Out.

Despite the lure of that wonderfully bizarre cover, I never actually bought the album. After spending time listening to it on Spotify recently, I wish I had. The whole record is a bright, mischievous collage of styles and sounds. It runs the gamut, from the satirical mini‑commercials (the brassy, almost Monty Pythonesque Heinz Baked Beans is my favourite) to explosive rockers such as I Can See For Miles. But then it surprises the listener with tender moments such as I Can’t Reach You or Sunrise. I played it for my wife on a drive from London to Niagara Falls and found myself pointing out how each track feels like a quick, clever burst of creativity. If one doesn’t grab you, just wait a minute. The Who will soon be chasing the next idea.

Album sleeve for single, I Can See For Miles.

There are several versions of this album floating around on Spotify. You can start with the original mono release, 13 tracks exactly as listeners heard them in 1967. There’s also the 1995 Deluxe Edition, which adds 10 bonus cuts, including a wonderfully unhinged psychedelic rock take on In the Hall of the Mountain King by Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg (1843–1907). And for the completists, the 2009 multi‑disc set offers both the stereo and original mono mixes, plus roughly thirty additional outtakes, ads, and curiosities that reveal just how much fun the band was having in the studio.

As I was scrolling through the various editions on Spotify, one cover stopped me cold. It featured a brunette woman standing in for Townshend and Daltrey, complete with deodorant roll‑on and a bathtub of baked beans. The album was titled Petra Haden Sings: The Who Sell Out. Intrigued, I pressed play and was instantly rewarded. What I’d stumbled upon was a fully a cappella re‑creation of the record. Every instrumental line and harmony was not simply sung, but magnificently layered, textured and performed entirely by the voice of the woman on that cover, the astonishingly talented Petra Haden.

Album cover to Petra Haden Sings: The Who Sells Out.

My research, which had begun with the four lads from West London, England, took a sharp turn and landed me across the Atlantic with a multi‑instrumentalist from New York City. Born in 1971, she is one of three triplet sisters, the daughters of the legendary jazz bassist Charlie Haden. Among his many accomplishments, Charlie spent years playing with Ornette Coleman. Their shared credits include the 1959 record The Shape of Jazz to Come, an album I wrote about in September, 2023, when it appeared at #248 on The 500.

Charlie Haden (1937-2014)

Musical brilliance clearly runs deep in the family. Her sister, Rachel Haden, plays bass for the Los Angeles rock band That Dog, while their other triplet, Tanya, is an accomplished artist, cellist, and singer, married to one of my all‑time favourite entertainers – actor, musician and comedian Jack Black. Imagine the creativity bursting out at their family reunions? I'd gladly man the barbeque just to be a "fly-on-the-wall" observer.

Jack Black and his wife, Tanya Haden.

As the story goes, it was musician and producer Mike Watt who suggested that Petra Haden record this all-vocal version of The Who’s third record, Sells Out. Watt recently toured with Iggy Pop and The Stooges (three records on The 500) and was also with the punk band Minutemen. My late friend Claudio Sossi wrote about the album Double Nickles on the Dime (#413) back in July, 2020. At Watt’s urging, Petra began this massive project.

Mike Watt.

She took the idea seriously, and ambitiously, with the goal of recreating the entire original album front-to-back -- not just the songs but the commercials, textures and instrumental lines, using only layered vocals. Every guitar riff, bass line, drum fill, horn blast, jingle, and harmony is sung by Petra herself, meticulously overdubbed track-by-track. It took her three years to complete and, when she decided to perform it live, she needed to assemble a 10-woman choir, which she dubbed The Sellouts.

Petra Haden (middle) and the Sellouts, perform the album live.

As it turns out, I saw Petra Haden perform long before I knew who she was. In 2006, my pal and frequent guest blogger, Steve “Lumpy” Sullivan, scored us box seats to see Bob Dylan at the then new John Labatt Centre in London, Ontario. The opening act was the Foo Fighters, who were performing their hard rock catalogue with acoustic arrangements. Providing violin and backing vocals on that tour was none other than the talented Ms. Haden.

My ticket stub for Bob Dylan, The Foo Fighters and Petra Haden.

I didn't end up buying The Who Sell Out in the ’80s, but after re-issues, re-discoveries, chance encounters, and one astonishing a cappella cover, it found me. If there’s a moral to this story, it’s this: trust your curiosity, follow the weird detours, and never underestimate where a baked‑bean bathtub might lead.