I can’t quite explain it, but there’s something about the opening riff in T Rex’s “Telegram Sam.” It doesn’t blaze, shred, rip, or tear. It boogies, choogles, and grooves. There’s been bigger, badder, and more memorable riffs written in the history of Rock ‘N’ Roll, but none of them give me the same sense of optimism as the one from “Telegram Sam.” With “Telegram Sam” I can ride a white swan. I can ride a tiger. I can get the job, and the girl, and some solid gold easy action on a Saturday night.

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