1973
I was in a group home. An award of the state. My mother had had enough of me. Many a night I would sit in my room in the dark, rocking back and forth in a rocking chair, listening to this one over and over. I felt as if I were soaring about 30 feet above the ground, gliding like a bird. Maybe it was my eleven year old imagination. Maybe it was astral projection (life force is pretty gottam strong at that age). Maybe it was just good music. When I became an adult I realized this collection of musicians were more than pop music. They were mature, classy, and evolved. Not a shred of raunch to their music but plenty of soul. Sometimes those two components complement each other, but they also stand on their own. Salute, Chicago.
