It was touch and go in the early part of 2016 for Classic Rock. Half the people that have ever made music in my lifetime died in the first 6 months. That’s an exaggeration, of course, but it looked like it was going to be up to The Rolling Stones to save the planet. Well, since the release of The Beatles documentary “Eight Days A Week” the geezers are rallying.
It’s been one of those weeks. It started out promisingly, with great plans for every day of the week. I was sure that by today, I’d have a clean house, an empty inbox, and even maybe lose ten pounds.
If you are at all active on any social media platform, you, like me, were probably assaulted incessantly by photos and 140 character capped musings about Coachella. Now that the first weekend of one of the world’s biggest music festivals has passed, the reviews, criticisms and lists (thanks buzzfeed) have added to the deluge of information on an event that I, and many like me, have actively chosen NOT to take part in. But such as our world has become, even conscious non-participation doesn’t seem to be a viable option anymore. Whether you like it or not, it’s something that demands attention, like Justin Bieber’s douchebaggery or Miley Cyrus’s abnormally large (and likely infected) tongue.
Another friend gets married, another bachelor(ette) party gets planned, another trip to Vegas gets booked. Yes folks, it really does keeps happening! Last Tuesday, just as my column was posted, I was jetting off to sunny sin city yet again. Another dear friend is getting married this summer and wanted that last hoorah, so heed the call I did. I’m no Vegas virgin, this would be my fifth trip so I had a vague idea of what this was in store. But Las Vegas still had a few surprises left for me. And what was more unexpected was that one surprise in particular was musical in nature.
In my last column I talked about how I came to love music, and the kind of music that instilled that love. Back then I was voracious in my appetite to obtain music, music that was new or just new to me. But it came to be that recorded music wasn’t enough to satiate the craving. The concept of live shows made itself known. My favourite bands would tour. People would line up outside Sunrise Records or Sam the Record Man for hours for a chance to buy tickets to hear, see and simply breathe the same air as their favourite artists. And I wanted to be one of those people.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 