Tarsa Podunavac

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With the type of arrogance that only a teenager can muster, I judged it. Rock music seemed silly, a dumbed-down form, for people who didn’t really care about music, just a bunch of haircuts and advertising. I didn’t feel KISS at all (except for the one time when Raoul and I listened to “Detroit Rock City” on angel dust). I understand they mean a lot to many people, and I’m happy they influenced so many of my respected colleagues, but I missed
Acid for the Children: A Memoir
by Flea
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