On a cold morning in 1955, walking to Sunday school, I was drawn to the voice of Little Richard wailing “Tutti Frutti” from the interior of a local boy’s makeshift clubhouse. So powerful was the connection that I let go of my mother’s hand.Ain't It Strange? (Patti Smith, New York Times, March 12, 2007)
It's just a breathtakingly lovely piece, and I urge you to read the whole thing.
Hat tip: Rock and Rap Confidential
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