the christening

when i was nine years old, i was all about mikael rickfors, a forty-something rocker with stubbly cheeks, black leather jacket and the dark, serious voice of a real man. well, or that of an alcoholic. the very first cd i owned was his debut solo album, named after the sensational hit “vingar” (wings).

i didn’t have my own cd player yet – hell, most of my country didn’t. (there are obvious advantages of having a dad obsessed with hifi). but my dad market it with my name and the tag “R-1” to make it compatible with his cd filing system. i wouldn’t allow anyone to listen to it without my permission, that cd was mine, and only mine. i played the first song over and over. again and again. i still know every beat of it, though i must admit i had forgotten about the spectacular narrative part in the beginning.

so what better way to start off this music blog than with the man who had me rocking out in front of my parents stereo, certainly not for the first time in my life, but for the first time as a music owner.

ladies and gentlemen. i give you mr rickfors. show some respect.