Features
While much of America was grooving to the sultry “Summer of Love” sounds
in 1967, Detroit was cranking out gritty, raw, pounding music from its
epicenter, The Grande Ballroom.
For awhile, all I hear is the rustling of dry corn stalks in the wind. Then, I hear the laughter of a child somewhere toward the west. I can’t see anyone, but I know they are wandering like me through this maze of maize.