Every time we purchase an album, new or old, box set or single, we applaud all those bad girls and boys who play that rock ‘n’ roll. We love our records like some love Jesus; they do the same thing to our souls.
It may only be rock ‘n’ roll, but we like it and live it. Quenching our tuneful thirsts, we stretch our metal heads to capacity with musical knowledge, spin and re-spin records and seek out new artists when stuck in the dreaded “rut.”
Upon publication of this story, summer will be a short 40 days away. And just as Country Time Lemonade commercials act as a bell in my head – forever ringing in bright blue skies and bathing suits – new album releases, upcoming blockbusters, concert tours and various forms of local entertainment serve as other telltale signs and flags of encouragement that vacation is on its way.
Oh, how I loathe “Top 10” lists. Every critic makes them, if only for the sole purpose of placating their massive egos, to convince you that their tastes are somehow more refined than yours, since you seldom agree with their 10 choices.