Rock and Roll aint dead

I tried to keep myself from adding this one to the humungous pile of shite that has already piled up here. But Wolfmother did the trick. Now, unfortunately, I am in such an eloquently doggerelly mood that I can hold it back no longer.

So here goes. Hallelujah,for rock and roll is not dead. It has long been me belief that I should have been a creature of the 60's , my soul gyrating to impossibly quaint pieces of Hedonism given permanence by a generation of musicians endowed with special powers by he who rules supreme in Heaven, if there be such a place. I so decried today's "music" with the hatred of a thousand suns, a million kegs of vitriol overturning in my heart everytime I heard what passes as Music today. Gone were the good ol' days when you had people waiting in anticipation for Zeppelin or Floyd's next subtle bit of insanity. Gone were the good ol' days when a Tommy vinyl record was the highest you could go in terms of earthly possessions. The music was so powerful back in those mystical times that it shaped a whole generation.

But alas. Man decided that he no longer wanted to be led, shaped by music. He lost what made him human. The wise say that the downslide started some four centuries ago with the industrial revolution, but thats too far back for us to lament. We can lament what we have been bereft of recently, and there arose a creed of lamenters, who continuously lamented what they percieved the slow and excruciating death that Music was being put through. It made them sad, and exacerbated their own travails. I am not even talking of what the masses swear by, as the masses are arses. My sympathies with you if you think that Jay-Z makes music. I'll gouge out your eyeballs if I ever meet you. What really hurt was what passed off as music of the thinking man. You must pardon if I have insinuated something against you and if you own my arse in any way I may or may not know of, but if I have offended you, then look at thy visage in mirror thine, and thou wilt see naught but a donkey. Anyway. The section of the society that was once catered to by a Musical industry that had a delectable menu ranging from Page to Clapton now lapped up cacophonous sequences of frequency modulations produced from millions of dollars worth of instruments that were naught but soulless creations by soul less men. People started swearing by increasingly disharmonious objects being passed off as music, and the Industry started taking the easy way out and producing and distributing what they too knew, deep within , was no more music than produced by banging tin cans against each other.

I should add "Most" to that statement probably. There was always a subterrenean presence of those amongst us who refused to be polluted, and drew their daily dose from old dusty records of that long gone golden age. They held strong, and battled hard, even when their cause seemed lost. They still drank only from the fast drying pond of Rock and Roll, once so luxuriant and abundant that such a predicament would have seemed impossible. They didnt lose faith even when people started referring to lesser arts by the moniker rock and roll. Suddenly everybody was a rockstar. The masses , who anyways always thought Rock and Roll was all about the Drugs and Sex, wholeheartedly hailed poseurs with Cocaine habits and licentious intentions as the flag bearers of rock and roll, and since supposed defining attributes of Rock and roll required significantly less talent , everybody became a rockstar. MTV made things worse than any record company with ulterior motives could have, and the weak were brainwashed.

But we held strong. To be fair, there have always been flashes of occasional brilliance to support our ingeniously stated hypothesis stated above so many times that I feel no need to write it down again. But the past week has opened my eyes, and I feel vindicated, as I am sure do many like me. First I heard Jet, and then Wolfmother. Jet had me jumping up and down like an overexcited bunny on a deathrow screaming that Rock and Roll aint dead, and Wolfmother actually had me teary eyed . Even the lizard on the wall was teary eyed, although it might have been that awful smelling bug it ate when I was playing Wolfmother. But anyway. These people have grown up on Manna, and they produce accordingly, speaking of higher truths lesser mortals cannot dream of. They are not exactly Jim Morisson yet, but give them time, they'll ripen. That both bands are Australian says tons about which way the nation is going. They arent the best Cricket team for nothing you know.

And before I begin yet another excursion into the Silver City , I'll say it once again
Rock and Roll is back!!!
Amen