It is spring-fever here at My-Lynx Associates. The temperature bounced up into the 50s today, the pipes did not burst over the frosty weather we had the last few days. So those of you in the frigid climes up north can rest assured that our books are still high and dry, and we even put up a CD in celebration. You can purchase it on our own web site My-Lynx-Associates.com or any of the other fine retailers at the right. The list would be: A1-Books, Amazon, AbeBooks, eBay, Half.com, Biblio, Alibris.

Today's featured selection, just put up for sale is a pair of CDs from Linda Rondstadt that we found a few days ago. She plays with Nelson Riddle and his orchestra and is really a retro look at the Big-Band / Early 50s sound before the Lawrence Welk sound that we are familiar with. We used to look at the bright colors on the Lawrence Welk show and marvel that people wore such vivid clothes. It could be the that Welk or his stylists liked the bright hues for color television, but we did not much care for such a celebration of the optic nerve through our rods and cones. And his arrangements, while very popular, sort of drained the vivacity of the Big Band era out. When we got older we listened to the reissues of the original Big Band's music on CDs and heard many of the originals again, and there was plenty of energy. This CD is a little wry, given Ronstadt's earlier hits, but it is a kind of cross between a lounge act in a smoky Las Vegas bar (you would expect Sammy or Frankie to drop in and sing along with a couple of the numbers), and a cross over to a high-tone Manhattan nightclub sound, depending on the selection.

Who does not like wistful love songs? There are plenty here. Pour yourself a drink, throw in an ice-cube or two, and sit back and listen.

We might part with it if you give it a good home. Maybe some of you are familiar with Philip K. Dick's infatuation with Linda Rondstadt. He had his own pet name for her "Linda Fox'' which he used in his many science fiction stories. Whenever we hear Rondstadt, we get a little spacey thinking about the stories that he wrote about parallel worlds in Southern California, where suburbia went a little crazy and mutated into some kind of strange place where adults would chew on some kind of strange substance and then play with dolls. And imagine themselves in some kind of paradise, driving down the Pacific Coast Highway, listening to Linda Fox's hits on the radio. And then the Chew-Z or whatever it was they were using would wear off, and they would find themselves gasping for air because the air-compressor broke down and they would find themselves back in some broken down dome house next to some run-down canal on the outer colonies of Mars.