Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty

Imagine 1978. Men with perms and thick moustaches. Men wearing brown leather coats, not the suede ones though. No, these are shiny and decked out in that peculiar burnt orange shade that closely matched their kitchen appliances, if not their shag carpet. And the gold toned wire-rimmed sunglasses that stayed tinted even in the smoky sleazy bar where they were trying to score some “blow” and a woman who had as little of a clue what a moral was as he did. Top it off with his shin high boots that zipped up the side (similarly toned in the aforementioned burnt orange). As I was only six years old or so at the time, maybe I imagine it a little more vividly than what it actually was but nonetheless I remember it well. Cars were big and they couldn’t get fuel for them and the gas they did acquire was full of what the Chinese call “paint for children’s toys”. Yes, lead. Horrible malevolent lead! All that sickening immorality back then was disgusting wasn’t it? Yet why does it seem that maybe things were just a little more simple then? I’m not sure.

Oh yeah, and about the song. This happens to be the unmistakable soundtrack of that most bizarre era.

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