AT MUSCLE SHOALS, I'm a little effete, effeminate, but still ferocious when flashing venomous grin. Holy concentration and fixation upon the minutia of melody and meter belie the frenzy of these sessions, the camera crews, journalists, and studio staff. When I pull out the bottleneck on "Love in Vain" it is to stop the high-spirited chit-chat in its tracks. There's no reason for cordial effusiveness today, now, here, right? Getting tired of the overall spirit of good-natured fellowship pervading the comings and goings of our ragtag band of minstrels, and although Charlie's immutable cool is providing some vestige of respite, Mick and I develop an immunity to our crowd and crew and require some altogether new incentive to overcome, transcend, stop striving to be satisfied and win it back. Paint it, black.