“This cover tells you everything you need to know about the ’70s ideal of languid self-indulgence: It gloriously conjures up cocaine spoons and key parties, empty promises made in hot tubs, interchangeable and indifferent bodies letting it all hang out in discos, sex in sports cars and hotel rooms while the 8-track of something like this album repeats and repeats.” – Rob Horning’s “We Were Promised Hot Tubs” at The New Inquiry discusses the cover of Bob Welch’s (who passed away last week) 1977 solo album, French Kiss.  The piece also contains what might be the best opening line of any piece we have read this week, but we will wait till Saturday to say for sure.

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