Couple things. One: My mom claims to be a Beatlemaniac. But judging by the condition of her Beatles records and Private Eyes by good old Daryl Hall and John Oates, it's clear where her priorities are. This thing is fucking pristine. Flat as a pancake, not a scratch on it. The jacket's a little moldy but the LP looks like it's fresh off the shelves of Sam Goody.
And two: There are a lot of things that stand the test of time. This album is not one of those things. Man, wow, not good. I told myself I was gonna listen to every playable record all the way through at least once. But I'm listening to Philadelphia's finest right now and I don't know if I can make the long hard slog to the end. Back when I was a kid I loved Hall and Oates. But man, I don't know if the nostalgia is enough to help me soldier through this one. Woof.
[wikipedia]
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