Man oh man, do I love Chad VanGaalen’s Soft Airplane.

This is music in its best form: not something you observe or receive, but a map that takes you somewhere.

For me, this album was like hearing Dark Side of the Moon again for the first time; the sound went so deep into my heart. The similarity between the two albums ends with how much I love them, so don’t expect a high-production psychadelic epic if you pick up your own copy of Soft Airplane, which you definitely should.

The lyrics in “Rabid Bits Of Time” really hit the mark. I’ve wondered sometimes whether I’ve been dead for years. Living day to day, dealing with inputs and outputs, sometimes makes me feel like I’m missing the big picture.

But “Rabid Bits Of Time” looks upward as well as inward. “No one knows where we go when we’re dead or when we’re dreaming.”

This one is best listened to with your eyes closed.

Sarah St. Catherine - Rabid Bits Of Time

A couple of weeks ago, I pulled out a guitar I haven’t played in years. It was the Spanish classical guitar I learned on way back in the early nineties.

Back then, I wanted to be Judy Collins or Joan Baez, and I sang traditional folk and protest songs, much to the bewilderment of my fun-loving, beer-drinking audience.

Playing that guitar again brings back a lot of memories, reminding me of those old songs and their tales of sorrow and redemption.

In honour of my good old guitar, and those good old days, this month’s cover is of the traditional spiritual “Sinnerman”.

The song was most famously and most awesomely rendered by the peerless Nina Simone in the mid-60’s. At that time, there was a lot to account for in a culture of war, greed, and deception.

The song still resonates today as our corporatocracy staggers ever onward. Wall Street is panicking and big financial companies are teetering on the edge of collapse. And where are they going to run to on that day?