Recorded amid the pine stumps of Fruitland, Washington, in the late 1970s, Donnie and Joe Emerson’s “Baby” floated free of its roots and drifted around in obscurity, before it somehow became the defining sound of Los Angeles for me in the 21st century.
It’s a miracle, a sunbeam in wood smoke, a perfect song in every way since I first heard it at the Lig…
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