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.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rJO7lJIxG10

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“A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself.” — Joseph Campbell

Yep…it’s another Monday…

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“Medley: Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In” (commonly called “Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In”, “The Age of Aquarius” or “Let the Sunshine In”) is a medley of two songs written for the 1967 musical Hair by James Rado and Gerome Ragni (lyrics), and Galt MacDermot (music), released as a single by American R&B group the 5th Dimension. The song spent six weeks at number one on the US Billboard Hot 100 pop singles chart in the spring of 1969 and was eventually certified platinum in the US by the RIAA.  Instrumental backing was written by Bill Holman and provided by a group of session musicians commonly known as the Wrecking Crew.

The song is listed at number 66 on Billboard‘s “Greatest Songs of All Time”.

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The Eagles – “Desperado”

A timeless ballad of solitude, pride, and the quiet ache of the untamed heart.

First released in April 1973 as the haunting title track of their second studio album, “Desperado” wasn’t a chart-topper—it was something rarer: a song that etched itself into the soul of American music. Though it was never issued as a single, it went on to become one of the Eagles’ most beloved and enduring masterpieces.

Written by Glenn Frey and Don Henley, the track opens with a lone piano and unfolds like a confession in the dark. Beneath its lush orchestral arrangement—crafted by Jim Ed Norman—lies a deeply human story: a weary outlaw, symbolic of a man afraid to feel, to love, to be vulnerable.

Drawing from the mythos of the Wild West, “Desperado” captures the ache of a man who’s ridden too far from home and too long from his own heart. It’s not just a song—it’s a lament, a warning, and a whispered hope.

Now enshrined in multiple greatest hits collections—including the legendary Their Greatest Hits (1971–1975)—“Desperado” stands as a cultural anthem, a ballad for every lonesome soul that ever stood at the crossroads between freedom and connection.

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[Thank you, Lord! 🙏]

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“Teach Your Children” is a song written by Graham Nash in 1968 when he was a member of the Hollies. Although it was never recorded by that group in a studio, the Hollies did record it live in 1983. After the song was initially recorded for the album Crosby, Stills & Nash in 1969, a much more enhanced version of the song was recorded for the album Déjà Vu by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, released in 1970. As a single, the song peaked at No. 16 on the Billboard Hot 100 charts that year.  On the Easy Listening chart, it peaked at No. 28.  In Canada, “Teach Your Children” reached No. 8.  Reviewing the song, Cash Box commented on the “incredible soft harmony luster” and “delicately composed material.”  Billboard called it “a smooth country-flavored ballad that should prove an even bigger hit on the charts [than ‘Woodstock‘].” Stephen Stills gave the song its “country swing”, replacing the “Henry VIII” style of Nash’s original demo.

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The “Green Valley” song by Puscifer explores themes of humility and the humbling power of nature, specifically referencing the Verde River. The song suggests that facing nature’s grandeur can lead to a recognition of one’s own insignificance and the need for personal sacrifice. The song also touches on unity and transcendence through the ideas presented.

I couldn’t pick just one…

…since I missed Music Monday…

Overnight Crème Brûlée French Toast

Ingredients:

1 loaf French bread, sliced 1-inch thick

5 large eggs

1 cup half-and-half

1 cup whole milk

1 tsp vanilla extract

2/3 cup granulated sugar (plus extra for topping)

1/4 tsp ground cinnamon

1/4 tsp ground nutmeg

1/4 cup unsalted butter

Maple syrup, for serving

Directions:

Generously butter a 9×13-inch baking dish and arrange the French bread slices in a single layer.

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, half-and-half, milk, vanilla, sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg until smooth.

Pour this mixture evenly over the bread, ensuring each slice is well-soaked.

Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

The next morning, preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Remove plastic wrap.

Dot the bread with small pieces of butter and a sprinkle of sugar.

Bake for 35-40 minutes until the toast is golden and puffed.

Let it cool for a few minutes, sprinkle extra sugar on top, and broil briefly to caramelize.

…and enjoy!

“Wild Women Do” is a song by American singer-songwriter Natalie Cole. The song was written by Greg Prestopino, Sam Lorber, and Matthew Wilder for the 1990 romantic comedy film Pretty Woman and was included on the film’s soundtrack as the opening track.  The song contains influences from pop, rock, R&B, and soul music, and its lyrics describe an independent woman who lives a wild life. In 1990, the song was also included on certain re-issues of Cole’s 1989 album Good to Be Back.

Produced by André Fischer, “Wild Women Do” was released in 1990 as the second single from the Pretty Woman soundtrack. It became Cole’s penultimate top-40 hit in the United States, peaking at number 38 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. Worldwide, the single charted in several countries, peaking within the top 40 in Australia, Ireland, and New Zealand and the top 20 in the United Kingdom as well as on the Canadian Dance and Adult Contemporary charts.

“Janis Joplin walked into a San Francisco bar one night in 1967, unassuming, wearing her signature round glasses, wild curls framing her face. She had no grand entrance. No one recognized her yet. Then, she stepped onto the stage, grabbed the microphone, and as soon as her voice sliced the air, the entire room fell silent. A raspy, soul-wrenching wail filled the space, cutting through the chatter and clinking glasses. Raw, untamed, and electric. A moment later, people were on their feet, some crying, others frozen. Janis didn’t just sing. She bled into her songs. That night, she left the stage with a new reputation: the woman who could silence a room with her pain.

Born in Port Arthur, Texas, she grew up feeling like an outcast. She loved the blues: Bessie Smith, Lead Belly, Ma Rainey, when most girls her age were listening to pop hits. In high school, she was bullied for her looks, called cruel names, and she struggled to fit in. By the time she was a teenager, she had already turned to music for solace, sneaking into record shops to buy blues albums. She once painted “One day, they’ll all see” on her bedroom wall.

Her escape was Austin, where she discovered the local folk and blues scene, often playing small gigs with her guitar. But her voice too big, too rough, too filled with anguish, wasn’t easily categorized. When she moved to San Francisco in 1966 to join Big Brother and the Holding Company, she was still a shy, anxious performer, drinking Southern Comfort to calm her nerves before every show. But when she sang, something raw and unchained took over. The first time she performed “Ball and Chain” at the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967, Mama Cass was caught on camera, stunned, mouthing, “Wow.” Janis had exploded onto the scene.

Behind the screams, beads, and flamboyant feather boas, she was a woman who craved acceptance. Her deep voice, and unfiltered, whiskey-soaked laughter made her appear confident, but she carried an ever-present loneliness that cut as deeply as her voice. She fell hard for people, often loving too much and too recklessly. When she was in love, she threw herself in completely whether it was with a musician, a roadie, or a fleeting one-night romance. She once wrote, “Onstage, I make love to 25,000 people, and then I go home alone.” Which shows she keenly felt her connection with the audience.

She longed for validation, especially from those who had once mocked her. When she planned attending her high school reunion, she wanted to return as a success story. She arrived in Port Arthur in a psychedelic Porsche, dressed in full rockstar glory, but her old wounds reopened quickly. She wasn’t celebrated. She was still an outsider. That night, she drank until dawn.

Her voice became more than sound; it was a raw, emotional purge. Songs like “Piece of My Heart” and “Cry Baby” weren’t performances, they were confessions. She didn’t just sing lyrics; she embodied them. In the studio, she fought for the perfect take, recording “Me and Bobby McGee” over and over, chasing an intangible, aching, perfection. Hard to imagine something so achingly true went through multiple takes! That song, recorded days before her death, would become her biggest hit.

In 1970, at just 27, she recorded “Mercedes Benz” in one haunting, a cappella take, laughing at the end, unaware it would be her final recording. Days later, she was found in a hotel room, alone. A heroin overdose. No dramatic farewell note. No staged tragedy. Just silence, an unfinished song list, and a star extinguished too soon. Her voice still cuts through time like a blade, cracking, roaring, pleading, loving. Every note she left behind holds a truth that refuses to die.” Edited and added to by Leila.

She looks like an innocent essence-filled angel in these photos, not someone who made whiskey and cigarettes her closest companions.

They DO have one of you, @viccles! Sans the halo, of course…