Rock,
in addition to being a definition of a certain lifestyle, it’s a term with a
precise pronunciation : rɒk.
Rock is
a heavy load that crosses your room on Saturday Afternoon.
Rock is
Lou Reed with yellow hair, black sunglasses, dressed entirely in black,
junkie-ways, who sings a song from Berlin in a concert somewhere in Denmark in
a 1974 tour .
Rock is
Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison (California, USA) who starts with: "Hello ,
I'm Johnny Cash".
Rock is
a pretty damnation, a viral unleashing of the senses, do not give in, strong
self-destruction, rebellion, abandon, fall ill, protest, dance, walk, jump,
standing in the middle of a street and do not know what to do.
Rock is
a dense and junkie travel within yourself and then you realize that you are the
only person alive on earth at 4:32 in the morning and that the world out is
ready for another day of total boredom: better burn out than slowly fade away Neil Young said - keep on rockin’ in the free world .
Rock is
to take yourself and go far from home and say hello to Mom & Dad while
pushing the car as much as possible on a bumpy road on the other side of the
world and stop in a motel in the middle of a foreign country and put a chair
and a table behind the door before going to sleep because the murderer of the
room next to you is not making you a greeting in the middle of the night .
Rock
are the gently deadheads and their beautiful secular religion made of freedom, tolerance, open-mindedness, respect, civility, affection,
love and so much.
Rock
are the punks, stoned and bones and little flesh, towering on the end of the Seventies.
Rock
are the arrows of Grace Slick in her dream-state and glacial vowels while she’s
watching Janis Joplin with the three hundredth bottle of Jim Beam.
Rock is
Jimi Hendrix who will never meet Miles Davis for a super jam session.
Rock is
to take your Les Paul with big old strings and make it play in your acoustic
Marshall.
Rock is
every single day that you buy a record and when you put it on you're high and you
read The Brothers Karamazov in a few hours and you think that it’s stuff nearly
one hundred and fifty years ago. Terrible deal, Fedor .
Rock
are thousands of black and white photographs made on the road in the most unthinkable moments, not to respect
the traffic light, to waste the fuel as quickly as possible, to have a caboose crammed
till exhaustion with beers and whiskey crates ready to use.
Rock is
ramble on for thousands of clubs to listen to your own blues and stand on the
sidewalk outside the door, until they reopen, only for another round, one more
round, please.
Rock is
Woodstock with the rain and the mud and lot of peace and love, brothers and
sisters.
Rock
are the Beatles so opposed to the Stones and you know: the ones made the music, the others are the greatest rock band in the world
.
Rock
are dozens of magazines with glossy covers discussing guitar heroes or of the best
hundred albums of all time. Sgt Pepper's always wins (maybe The White Album).
Rock is
a beard growing for three months at least and think of Creedence or Canned Heat.
Rock is
The Last Waltz to not forget The Band Rock of Ages.
Rock is
your stereo on for seven days a week, is an incredible amount of pills, doses,
mixed stuff and so on.
Rock is
the cover of Horses and a photo of Patti Smith with Robert Mapplethorpe.
Rock is
wanting strongly a woman and then have another one in your bed.
Rock is
a girl just came of age - or thereabouts, that you would like she visits you in
your sacerdotal rooms .
Rock is
Duane Allman fishing in singlet, Eric Clapton seated in front of various bottles or Jimmy Page with
dragons on the jacket and the Gibson at Madison Square Garden, 1973, year ab incarnatione
domini nostri Jesu Christi.
Rock
are The Who with Roger Daltrey throwing the microphone in the air while Pete
Townshend rolls right arm on SG - Teenage waste land of rock desert.
Rock
are the tattoos of Johnny Winter and his fifty records preciously kept in a
quiet place in your home, the cut finger of Jerry Garcia, Bob Dylan who sizzles
the harmonic in D, the patient voice of Leonard Cohen, the crackling thuds of
Tom Waits, the schizoid-hieratic deeds of St. Nick Cave, the dark side of the
moon Pink Floyd, Elton John singing Bennie and the Jets, the Doctor John get
stuck in a cajun swamp, the intros of the Doors, the riffs of Deep Purple,
David Bowie with his rock 'n' roll suicide, the fake darkness of Black Sabbath,
whitewashed nostrils of Stevie Nicks, Jeff Beck’s vests, the monstrous roll of
John Bonzo Bonham and the dreadful earthquake of Keith Moon, the “give peace a
chance” of John Lennon.
Rock is
a coherent, weird, overflowing vision that makes you get up in the morning and
put on Stevie Ray Vaughn with Texas Flood or a Roy Buchanan’s forgotten album.
Rock is
your woman that is gone with another woman and you hope she won’t be back.
Rock are
shelves full of records to take and burn as a sacrifice to the mighty god of
music.
Rock is
the one thing that can change your life, that may be the way of salvation or
escape.
Rock is
physically a physical state, is human distraction, is violence in its purest
form .
Rock is
all the rest.
