Free rein at Windhorse Farm with five guys who stopped, constantly, to play. At first it was ARRGH BE STILL but they were a walking jam. A private concert just for me me me all for me and roosters and chickens and then it was all PLAY, PLAY NOW and they would play, right then, and I'm spoilt forever.
The Modern Grass. Rich, warm, sharp. Backbone-strumming. A dream.