Name’s Frankie Jett — and no, I wasn’t at Woodstock, but my heart swears I was. I came of age in a world that was waking up. I was just in time to catch the tailwind of a revolution. I was formed by the 60s. The music, the madness, the love-ins and letdowns, the fights worth fighting — it all soaked into my bones and never left.
I remember sitting cross-legged on my bedroom floor, copying down Beatles lyrics from the radio while the record spun on low. I watched the world crack open, saw color flood into black-and-white screens, saw kids with guitars speak louder than any politician ever could. I wasn’t in the front row at Monterey, but I was the kid scribbling lyrics in a notebook by the record player, learning how to tell the truth loud enough to matter.
I’ve got a head full of big ideas and a playlist full of protest songs. I don’t do small talk, never really learned how.
I want to talk about freedom, about fire, about the things that make people rise up and dance or fight or fall in love under strange skies.
The 60s taught me how to pay attention,how to listen when it matters, how to speak up even when your voice shakes, and how to feel everything fully, even the hard parts. Especially the hard parts. It wasn’t always peace and love, but it was real. That’s what stuck with me.
These days, I keep it simple. I write. I listen. I remember. The blog’s where it all lands — stories about the records that mattered, the threads that told the world who you were, the voices that helped shape a generation. I don’t write to preach, just to share what’s still humming in my chest after all these years.
I believe in peace, in rhythm, in doing your own thing without apology. Not everything has to be loud to make a point, sometimes a quiet groove says more than a shout. You’ll find that vibe here. A little reflection, a little rebellion, a lot of heart.
So stick around if you dig old soul, honest words, and a window back to when everything felt wide open. I’m still that barefoot kid with a record player and a notebook – just with a few more miles on the boots…