Never thought to ask who his wild love was or where she was going, never cared about what time she’d be home or even if they were in love. All that mattered was the sound of his story and those witches supporting the trance with their low guttural response… and the hope that at any moment he might jump the octave and actually scream the line we’re all hoping he will (and he does eventually). One of the most fortunate things that ever happened while growing up was that my older brother’s record collection contained Waiting For The Sun. Ever since first hearing My Wild Love I understood something more about what songs could do than just be songs.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"