wicked pickett kicks it

r.i.p. wilson pickett, 1941-2006. when i was growing up on lawn guyland, all the slightly-older cats in my german-italian-irish catholic 'hood dug this man's music, even tho he represented precisely the kind of assertive black masculinity that scared the living shee-it out of them when encountered in the flesh. if i live to be a thousand, i doubt i'll ever want to hear "midnight hour" or "mustang sally" evereverever again due to their oldies radio / coverband overoveroverexposure, but i can't say the same of "i found a love" or "funky broadway" or especially "i'm in love." go easy, sir.