It's hard to believe Album Notes made it this far. Back when it began in February 2015, I had no grand design for how it would unfold and certainly no intention of lasting till 2024. Much of this is thanks to everyone for reading and in turn listening over the years. The kind words have been appreciated as well as the many, many musical recommendations sent my way. You've exposed me to artists and made me appreciate genres I otherwise may have brushed aside. Which brings us to today. No grandiose send-off. Just an album I find a fitting end to this nearly decade long weekly tradition. 

In celebration of making it one year, I featured Portrait of a Legend to recognize what I called, and still agree with, my desert island album. I don't remember when I exactly got the Sam Cooke bug. It was likely a snowball accumulation of hearing song after song after song so simple, no frills, uniquely perfect. To say nothing of that voice. 

Sometime in my second Liberec apartment, circa 2008, and having been a Sam Cooke fan for a while, I discovered Live at the Harlem Square Club, 1963 and was truly blown away. This was the other side of the Sam Cooke coin. A different voice, one visceral and invigorated, compared to the stoic, steady beauty found on his studio output. Given the times and the label powers that be, the adjectives at the beginning of the last sentence are precisely why Live at the Harlem Square Club, 1963 wasn't released for some 22 years, the fear of turning off a certain record buying demographic.

That raw energy dripping from Cooke's voice comes out as pure joy bursting through the recording. He's singing, of course, but this is also a conversation as much as a performance. It's a back and forth with the audience, many a playful "ha ha" for good measure. After an introduction by King Curtis, Cooke emerges for opening thank yous and "how you doing" crowd rousings. Then Live at the Harlem Square Club, 1963 effectively commences with a message to the essence of whatever strikes one's inherent fancy, whether musical or not: don't fight it, feel it. From there on out, Cooke runs through a multitude of hits that concludes with "Having a Party," a fitting rendition both in song and statement that accentuates and amplifies the opening call. Don't fight it, feel it. 

And with that, once again, thank you all. You will now find me fully indulging my vinyl collection. Album Notes, signing off. Díky moc. Nashle. Ahoj. Čau. Pa pa.