I discovered/re-discovered The Kinks tonight.

If I was ever a musician, I just know this would be exactly the kind of music I'd make. Not the kind of music I wish I had made, because THAT list is practically inexhaustible for anyone with a Facebook profile.
It is the kind of music I would make. If I was a musician, that is. Somewhere in a parallel universe they would call me The British Invasion. I'd wear leather capes and boots on stage and try not looking like an ad for a BDSM website. And I'd make happy-crazy-audacious and always, always oddly satisfying music.

And then I'd put on my slippers, and sit by the fire. Cause I'd know I've reached my top and I couldnt get any higher. I'd be in my place and I'd know where I was. In my Shangri-La.

“This,” he says. “This is why The Beatles got it.”
“I’m afraid I’m not following…”

“Other bands, it’s about sex. Or pain. Or some fantasy. But The Beatles, they knew what they were doing. You know the reason The Beatles made it so big?”
“What?”
“‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ First single. Fucking brilliant. Perhaps the most fucking brilliant song ever written. Because they nailed it. That’s what everyone wants. Not 24-7 hot wet sex. Not a marriage that lasts a hundred years. Not a Porsche or a blow job or a million-dollar crib. No. They wanna hold your hand. They have such a feeling that they can’t hide. Every single successful love song of the past fifty years can be traced back to ‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand.’ And every single successful love story has those unbearable and unbearably exciting moments of hand-holding. Trust me. I’ve thought a lot about this.”
“‘I Wanna Hold Your Hand,’” I repeat.
“And so you are, my friend. So you are.”