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It was forever ago when listening to music involved people opening their precious, favorite albums, putting the vinyl discs on their turntables- careful not to smudge them, putting the needle on the first track and with their Mackey Mouse-ear headphones, rocking out. Of course, when their parents were out… They’d lose the headphones. Those were the days of real music.
People would Invest time to find the most obscure, crazy, Indies rock band, Tower Records, Haft’s were some be-there-or- be-nowhere record stores where new and unusual albums would find their way into peoples small time lives. Peoples ganja and patchouli-hazed sensibilities were christened in those foggy years. This was when rock was driven by a guitar master or two, a healthy bass, whacked out synch and a drumbeat that would alter your pulse.
You know the saying, if you remember the sixties and seventies, chances are, you weren’t there. When you really think about it, music is more than it is made out to be. It’s not Just a tune, a rhythm. It’s a language. Most earlier rock and roll had a message. You listened to solos, and, it was like the music was talking to you. Take Shine on You Crazy Diamond, if you listen to Glamour Just scream out his guitar solo, I ill swear, It sounds Like It’s speaking to you. Everything now Is so commercial, so consumer-driven.
Record companies Like Atlantic went from selling Led Zeppelin, Phips, Rush, Yes, Genesis and Metallic to selling Trick Daddy and Twists. Being a rapper, I’m sure, takes talent, rhythm mean, it’s just about sex and drugs- not that Led Zeppelin wasn’t just about sex and drugs… They just wrote it so much more poetic and it wasn’t as blunt.