Over the last two evenings and much of today, I've been cataloguing my 1960s music, in preparation for burning it to DVD (because my skin turns at the thought of having a permanent-ish library containing missing composer names or incorrect years, doesn't yours?).

I've developed an even greater respect for Del Shannon. Look at his output. The man's a machine.

Oh, and Phil Spector is still a creep. He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss) (The Crystals, 1962)... nyeeeeah. Nice one, Goffin and King. (Listen)

*eyes music collection* I was born in the wrong decade. Either 30 years too late or many decades too early, anyway.