Too Old To Rock ‘N’ Roll, Too Young To Die

As a young boy I was surrounded by items, sounds, pictures and anything that my loving parents had kept dear to them from their past. To have and enjoy these objects and musical influences at my fingertips were essential to the formation of who I am today. I can recall all of the books on the many shelves and vinyl records in the massive, wood veneer cabinets. Hundreds of selections to choose from and all with their own identity. Just prior to our formal sit down at the evenings dinner, one of us would carefully go over the records, make a choice and , fingers crossed … place the selections on the changer. The supper time elector would promptly lower the volume and hopefully not become the brunt of the siblings and parental wrath. Under normal circumstances the decision was acceptable. Dinner was served. Typical Night.

Both my parents relished in the comfort of an open book. Although the television medium was a focal point of the 60’s and 70’s it didn’t diminish their love for reading. Fond memories of witnessing either of my parents, nestled on top of the living room love seats, as they turned page after page of one of their latest volumes. These memories peaked my interest.

For me, as a young connoisseur of the entire collection of the arts, I dabbled with them all. I listened. I played. I read. It was mind-opening.

Here is my question: As much as I devoured the adolescent novel entitled, “An Odyssey of an Otter” by Rutherford Montgomery, was I supposed to reread it again and again?  Even though this was the book that lead the way and made me smile, would it forever be as life changing as that initial read? Had the pinnacle been reached? Grant you, I loved the book. I truly did and to be very honest I did reread it a couple of months down the road but as that time passed I made a profound discovery: I had a yearning to plunge into different wonderlands from different authors. I was eight years old. I had made this discovery early on and the results were astounding. I was changing as I grew physically and my mind was expanding along with the change. I felt blessed to have the many options available to me. To reread the same book time and time again would be counterproductive.

Those options still surround me. In books. In ideas. In music. In all influences. I continue to grow, learn, love and experiment.

The forward paragraphs to this piece brings me to this dilemma I have and I can only wonder if I am on my own in this debate. Am I that singular person, the one 50-something dude who has a hunger, a thirst for something more? The allure of freshness that can continue and feed my appetite for expansion?

Then why? What makes this such a hot format? How come when you press the scan button does 9 out of 10 stops land on these stations? Who the hell can listen to these songs but one more time?

Classic rock. Kill me now. Someone please, please suck the last bit of breath from my lungs and forever let my ears numb over for the last time. Allow these once timeless kernels of years gone by moments of musical history fade into my distant memory as just that … memories.

As I cruise down the interstate and the digital dial begins it’s rapid assent towards its next destination, it arrives and I hear those first three chords of “All Right Now” by Free, I feel my intestines get all squishy and immediately head for an exit. There’s no wiggle room here. Release is the only outcome. (and sometimes a nap.) Oh my freaking’ beejeezus! The previous station had just finished that cut and I know, I KNOW that if I repeat the process I’ll either hear it once more or it’ll just be another title from 1970-77. What’s going on here? I ask you, who’s in charge?

I can hear you all as I compose this piece … ‘you can’t (meaning me) tell me you don’t love these songs,’ or ‘let me take a look at your record/cassette/CD/digital musical command center and I can bet you that I’ll find that very “All Right Now” title in there,’ and you’d all be right. I DO have it. I DID like it and now it’s collecting virtual dust. There you go again, ‘then why do you still have it?’ My response is that in MP3 format I can leave it there for … I don’t know. Posterity. For the grandchildren. Let me vent.

When I peruse the newspaper and/or local entertainment section of the internet I frequently fall on this very subject matter of brand, spanking new classic rock format radio stations starting up in the area. Granted, I live in the upper Midwest section of the US where it’s notoriously known for its heavy 70’s era musical tastes but it’s truly astounding as to just how many pop up. Unbelievable just how stuck in our high school days we can be. In my opinion that’s exactly where these disks belong and only there … class reunions. Those 45’s have had their day. Let them be. We’ll bust out those delightfully racy, power chord sing-a-longs at a wedding or a karaoke fest and then promptly place them under house arrest for the remainder of the decade. Can we do that? Anyone with me.

I understand that many of these artists are still hanging around  today and making a nominal (and many times as astronomical) fee for performing their hits but even that is becoming an embarrassment. Really, who wants to hear, and SEE  Brian Johnson of AC/DC prance around the stage, donning leather pants, gyrating to the pulsating drum beat and screaming out the lyrics to ‘Givin’ the Dog A Bone,’ as a 63-year-old man? Not me. I’ll use my memory and trust that he’s still a 20-something young stud who is need of a little romance and not as a wrinkled, geriatric pedophile in need of incarceration. C’mon man. Let it go.

I will, no honestly, I will allow myself to give these ultimate classic rockers their due and I can also give them and their new releases a real listen and hopefully they do themselves proud. It pains me to spin the new records from my past heroes and the lyrics are still prepubescent enough that it makes goose-flesh up and down my senior body. Ech. Right back to home detention with them.

Music evolves. It changes with generations. It changes with technologies. It expands as we as people expand. I wait impatiently by the new/free singles on iTunes to whet my appetite and to then delve into the new artists discography to sample more. It’s fun. It’s new. It’s exciting for me and should be for all enthusiasts of the recording industry.

Turn off your commercial radio, (if you have satellite, at least you have more options … good for you) park your car, open your MacBook and locate the college rock internet radio tab and give it a try. There’s a whole new world of young artists who are dying to be heard. Some crap. Some that make your skin bumpy in a good way. Live and learn and don’t stay staked to your past as you’ll be missing something special.

The other evening I was out at a local club for drinks and a little live music. Attending along with myself and Tina were my son and girlfriend. We noshed on some apps while awaiting the nights entertainment. The kids on stage yelled out a greeting to all in attendance and promptly propelled into their first set. As ‘Hot Blooded’ from Foreigner rang out with ear-splitting volume, I looked at my family, gazed at the multiple generational fan base before me, realized where I lived, drew a tiny smile and walked directly into the restroom. Squishy.

Reiny