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Don’t feel bad for him. Much like Chuck Berry’s death earlier this year, this guy lived a life that most only dream about. I’ve had nothing but respect for Mr Campbell, singer of classics like “Rhinestone Cowboy” and “By the Time I Get To Phoenix”, since I was a child and my grandparents played his records incessantly while drinking whiskey and water. He was “The Man” in the neo-country / pop world in the sixties and seventies, a time when there were several “The Man’s” walking arround. Campbell outsold, out-Grammy’d, out-classed, and out-lived most of them. And I guarantee your grandmother had dirty, dirty dreams about his handsome ass. The whole world remembers him for “Rhinestone Cowboy” but record collectors remember him for the countless copies of By the Time I Get to Phoenix that they’ve had to thumb through while searching for records. And people from Kansas, like myself, remember him for this timeless classic.
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