It’s hard to imagine if you were born, say, after 1965, but there was a time before the elder statesmen of rock’n’roll had become parodies of themselves. Before Mick Jagger was known for fathering supermodels’ babies and strutting across the stage like the world’s wrinkliest peacock; before Lou Reed’s dark, downtowner guise was obsessed with more dangerous pursuits than tai chi; before Bob Dylan was picking up establishment prizes читать дальше...
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