Al Di Meola, John McLaughlin, Paco De Lucia – Friday Night In San Francisco
I have a long history with this album. It’s been a favourite for years.
I owned it for years. And until I went to Taranna recently (where I scored it for criminally ridiculously stupidly unimaginably you’ve-clearly-made-a-mistake-in-pricing-this cheaply), I did not actually have a copy in my house. It’s weird. I’ve had it so long, I hadn’t noticed it was gone. What happened to my last copy? I don’t know. Probably loaned out to someone and never returned because they loved it too.
But my most recent hearing of it was via my buddy Craig’s pristine vinyl of it (which I pointed out to him in a record shop and he snagged it post-haste without even asking if it was something I might want, ah well) and I was once again enthralled. So finding this CD copy on my recent record shopping foray was both finding an old friend and rescuing it, and putting things back aright in my collection. This album must always live here.
Sometimes, alone in my music room downstairs, I play along on my cheap acoustic guitar and I get to feeling like I’m doing alright at it. Then I hear this record and all of its dexterity and playfulness and genius, and all I can think is sit down and shut up, the grown ups are talking over here…
Right. So. What can I say about this record that would be enough?
It’s simple. Beyond YOU NEED TO OWN THIS NOW (if you don’t already), here’s all you need to know.
Let the drooling re-begin. Hot fucking damn.