Don't Knock my Coccyx

A friend of mine fell off a scooter. She's okay, but she did injure her
coccyx.
It's not funny.
Also not funny is how good Wilson Pickett is.



R I G H T ?? !! ?? (I tell you, I am not one bit joking when I say: my grandfather has the exact same suit. He wore it to my high school graduation, and damn, if he didn't look sharp.)

This is an album I picked up a while ago. Again, it came from the Second Mile thrift; not too surprising, since the album before this one was called "Wilson Pickett in Philadelphia" (it was produced here by Gamble and Huff). That probably helped him gain a little more regional recognition.
"Don't Knock My Love", on the other hand, took him back to his ruts (that's "roots", pronounced Southern Style) - it was produced at the famous Muscle Shoals Studios.

When I first put on this record, I'll admit that I thought it a little slick.
I don't know what the hell I was thinking, because it's in fact more than a lil' gritty. Maybe it was the suit that threw me (the suit above, obviously: that's the cover of the record of which I speak). Well, as Wilson himself told me, You Can't Judge A Book By Its Cover.mp3 (download).

Stream it here, if ya'd rather: