BY PATRICK CRERAND
In the summer of 1972, after weeks of consuming only avocado fuzz and free coffee from a local Midas Muffler Shoppe, a gifted oracle named Arthur emerged from his tent to impart the following vision to his neighbor, a burgeoning young crooner with the voice of an incandescent castrati: “If you get caught between the moon and New York City, the best that you can do is fall in love.”