When I was a senior in high school, I gave my friend Arthur Malpere a ride to school in my ’77 MGB just about every day (well, every day it was running). I had a cassette of the then fairly new Licensed to Ill, and Art insisted that we listen to it every damn day. The ride to school was on the order of ten minutes, so we would listen to ten minutes on the way to school, then pick up where we left off, usually mid-song, on the way home (for those of you too young to remember cassettes, it wasn’t trivial to return to the beginning of a song). Of all the outstanding songs on that album, possibly my favorite was “Paul Revere,” a sort of old-west style automythology of the band’s origin (in spite of the casual misogyny, I still do like it pretty well).