“Is this your granddaughter, Mr. Wood?” “She’s me woif, she is, Y’r ‘ighness.” “Oh, how unseemly.” Psychedelia was not kind to Charlie Watts, at least not sartorially. Don’t make Charlie Watts wear a caftan with magical sigils all over it. Let Charlie wear his hand-tailored suits. This was ’67. My high school band, A Bunch … Continue reading Yesterday’s Papers