Sunday, July 09, 2006
my sentiments exactly
you could play air guitar along to Led Zeppelin's "In My Time of Dying," you could do whippets and listen to Yes and make out in the back of your boyfriend's Pinto to "Teenage Wasteland" and you didn't have to consider the demographic implications of any of it.How low the mighty have fallen.But once the marketing killjoys invaded our most treasured turf, the rock 'n' roll fantasy was over. We wouldn't want to join any demographic that would have us as members, after all. Around the same time that Beatles songs started to remind us of Nike footwear, we knew that the thrills and spills of our messiest indulgences had finally lost their romance, and all that was left for us was a neutered life of couples therapy, psychotropics and soft jazz.
Sure, it was inevitable that someday, we'd stop screaming our guts out at rock shows and throwing up into trash cans, and start flipping through Anne Geddes picture books (Awww!) while sampling soft cheeses and sipping rosé on ice. But it still seems sad, somehow -- not because making out with smelly teenagers in beat-up cars was really all that spectacular, but because, thanks to years and years of being embraced and celebrated, sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll have become as flaccid and empty as we have.
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