JUKE BOX JURY

The old mercury hit 84 today and the placid streets of bucolic Marin County were brazenly disturbed by the sounds of yours truly, cruising along in my calaboose, windows down and the manic strains of Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” blaring from my 40-ohm speakers. The radio was cooperating to its fullest, flinging out one fine summer song after another, from “Brown Sugar” to early Yardbirds, with a lot of Van Morrison, Beach Boys, and Mungo Jerry inbetween.