Dylan Thomas – Reading His Complete Recorded Poetry
For 364 days, I have been writing about albums that have moved me in my life. And today, finally, it comes to an end. Day 365.
I have been thinking for a long time about how I should end this series.
Ultimately, I realized that this whole effort has been one long celebration of beauty; the beauty of artistic creation, and the sharing of it with others who will hopefully be moved, as I have been moved.
I am still stunned by how many have followed along as this series has progressed—literally thousands of you. Thank you to each and every one of you.
I can think of no better way to distill down the essence of what this effort has been all about, than to present as a final recommendation, an album that is in itself a distillation, down to the bare essentials of artistic creation.
Here, we have just a poet, and his words. No adornment of any kind.
And yet, the album is mysterious, ambitious, and so, so beautiful.
In less than 24 hours from now, in California, where I live, it will be 2018. Someone else will perhaps take up the challenge in the new year, and recommend 365 more wonderful albums. As for me, I am now done.
And so, with that, this series goes gentle into that good night.