This will be a moody post.
Just finished watching Martin Scorsese's The Last Waltz, a documentary/ concert video featuring "The Band". In 1976, "The Band" gave their farewell concert. A few rock legends turned up to perform with them.
On the DVD, the songs (concert footage) are interspersed with sections of the band members in conversation with Scorsese, as he asks them questions about how it used to be, what it meant, and so forth. Between tokes of whatever it is they're toking, they answer in simple, spontaneous, honest sentences. That hit you hard.
I'm fairly ignorant on the early rock movement in general, but that's the beauty of emotion: it-don't take-no, aeyy-ju-cayy-shun.
I haven't heard even one of these songs before (shame!). The music transports me (on a damn weekday!) into a surreal state of mind. The mental fatigue from the workday helps me surrender. The band members' candidness touches my heart. There is a tragedy unfolding, as "The Band" begins to end. I empathize. And I suspect I begin to understand. About the generation that didn't give a damn. About the folks who yearned for freedom of the spirit. And sang about it.
The feeling I'm left with: Rock-n-roll is dead.
[you were warned at the beginning of this post.]
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2 comments:
Of course you haven't heard these songs before, you piece of shit Pink Floyd listener.
No, rock and roll is not dead. It just smells funky. What you need is (a) System Of A Down (b) The White Stripes (c) Garbage. That should do for a start.
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