IT IS THE EVENING OF THE DAY

My first memory of the Rolling Stones? Breaking the zipper on my sister's copy of Sticky Fingers. And around about the same time, my next door neighbor Mitchell and his garage band murdered Brown Sugar every weekend. Sounded like the tin-pan rattle in heaven's kitchen to me.

A few months ago I was driving my son to his art class, and Jumpin' Jack Flash came on the radio. "What's that gas gas gas song daddy?" he asked, and I wished I had an easy answer.

Because, you see, it's very complicated...