Tuesday means rockabilly, cats, and cool wax...and man, this one absolutely smokes. I snagged it in Pueblo, Colorado back in March as part of that killer haul where the shipping bill practically challenged the purchase price to a duel. Worth every penny, daddy-o.
Roy Hall, born James Faye Hall, took the name Roy in honor of his brother, who tragically died in an auto accident. From everything I've read, Hall seemed like the kind of wild character who didn't just walk into a room, he made the room hang on for dear life.
And as I've said before, Three Alley Cats/Diggin' The Boogie is pure jet fuel. The kind of record that leaps out of the grooves, grabs you by the lapels, and demands you pour another cup of coffee and flip it over one more time.
I've got tomorrow off and have arranged a little crate-digging excursion at a former shop I haven't visited in over a year. Logic says I've already turned over every stone, every sleeve, and every dusty corner in the place. But veteran record hounds know better. Records are sneaky creatures. The one you've been searching for is usually hiding right where you've already looked three times, just waiting to wink at you and say, "Took you long enough, cool cat."
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