I put on the Mountain record. Listened to it while I prepared dinner and drank beer. Sonja came home when side three began. She danced, then she boogied, to Nantucket Sleighride. The living room speakers thumped and crunched beneath one of the heaviest rock bands ever. And you cannot get too fucking heavy.
I think it has always been cool to own Mountain records. I have an idea of how cool it would have been to see Mountain play in your high school's gym. Heart, Rush and Brave Belt rocked the gyms my teenage ball sweat dripped on to. Heart, Rush and Brave Belt gave it their all but none of them had the fucking near as bad as Michael Jackson sense of style Leslie West was known for.
I only can think of one person who owns "Twin Peaks" besides me. He bought it back when he was fond of coming home to dinner all jazzed up on mescaline or one of the other chemicals that made the '70s jump up and down. "You had to be there to believe the show Bub put on in when he was still in high school," is how his brother Pat describes his older brother. "It happened over and over again. We'd be sitting at the table having dinner. Me and mom and dad. All you could hear was the ticking of the cuckoo clock. Then Bub would barge in, mid-drum solo, screaming, 'Mississippi Queen, You know what I mean!' before passing out into a plate of pork chops. Some guys get a brother- I got Bub."