Monday, May 2, 2016

Too Old to Rock and Roll, Too Young to Die

This has not been a good year if you are a rock star. Every week seems to bring another musical tribute. The latest of course was Prince.
Years before I met my wife she was living in Minnesota. While having dinner with her mom one evening, Prince was sitting across from them with his entourage. He tried buying my future wife a drink and made a pass, which her mom quickly intercepted and sent back to him. She wasn’t having any of that for her nineteen-year-old daughter. Her mom never had an issue with me, however, and this has caused her judgment to be suspect ever since.
Now Prince is dead and I’m still here. No longer can he entertain tens of millions with his songs and performances, while I can still blog to tens of people. Who’s laughing now? Probably not my wife who might have become the Princess of Minnesota and inherited more than I could ever leave her.
Some what related to that we attended an ‘80s dance party this past weekend. Although the crowd was manageable it was hard to hear the music over the replaced hips and creaking knees. Of course, yours truly danced just like I did all those years back, like a drunk in the midst of electro-shock therapy. I haven’t lost it.
There was a costume contest, which I apparently won, even though I just grabbed some things out of my closet. Wear them until they wear out is my motto. Along with a few Material Girls, I saw several members of Miami Vice, preppy boys, Bruce Springsteen, and even a Magnum PI.
Every few songs the DJ would play either Prince or Bowie, and an audible moan was heard above the din. Dancers moved a little slower. Spectators lifted their drinks. Then he switched to Billy Idol and life sped up to 45 rpms again. It was like a non-linear conga line that slows down once in a while to avoid a table or chair.
But, when we lose an icon from our youth they take a part of it with them. Especially if they were the voice of their generation; voices like Lennon’s, Mercury’s, Holly’s, Joplin’s, Strummer’s, and now Bowie’s and Prince’s just to name a few. They spoke; no they screamed what we needed to hear. What we wanted to say ourselves.
How sad it is they are gone, but sadder still is what this generation will have to look forward to: A Bieber tribute. A Miley Cyrus channel on Sirius. You probably don't even know where the title of this post comes from. Oh you poor bastards. Imagine a child raised on Timberlake instead of Etta James or The Kinks. I ask, how can the youth of today give a metaphoric middle finger when they listen to Adele? And they need to. Every generation needs its rebels, its anti-social dissidents to make sure we don’t lose our way, to keep us on track, to tell us old guys off.
Well, go ahead, I’m listening.


I wasn’t able to get my monthly project done in April for a variety of reasons. Mainly, since I was commissioned to do a third cover for the Ruby and Maude Adventure series. Here is the rough for the wraparound cover. I’ll post the finished art in May.


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