I'm the kind of guy who can pop in the Stones "Let it Bleed," & the Who's "Live at Leeds," and think they sound like they were recorded yesterday. These were the discs I was playing on the cd player as I was tooling down the boulevard heading to a business meeting yesterday, driving a big old black Chrysler 300M (it was the only car the rental place had available on short notice), dressed in a suit and tie, my usual shades. Don't even ask about the fuel efficiency of the vehicle. I was traveling in style, looking like "the man," with a plan. Talk about a time warp. I passed a building in Oak Brook where I worked as a young computer salesman 20 years ago. I passed another building where my father worked as a computer salesman over 25 years ago.
I couldn't help thinking I was kind of channeling my father's energy yesterday. He died in August, just like Elvis died in August and well, August now for me just has a feeling of doom and loss. I was edgy as hell, wondering who I was, where I was going. Uncomfortable in my skin. That has always been my way. So, something about the music was reassuring, reinvigorating. The hard edge of the guitars cutting through the darkness in my head, the bass and drums pounding a new and familiar tatoo on my heart.
There's something about the "Live at Leeds" disc that is always refreshing. The sound is so lively, so brutal, so primal, there's no studio tricks, just a document of a tight r&r band at their absolute peak, in the moment, a perfect blend of a strong rock voice (Daltrey), a Gibson SG cranked up beyond belief, Entwhistle's phenomenal, avant garde bass lines, and Keith Moon's volcanic, avalanche of drums. I used to play the vinyl version nearly 35 years earlier, in a little bedroom, all by myself, laying in the dark wondering just what I was doing in the world.
I got to the meeting, and acted like I knew who I was, and what I did, and how the world goes. I acted like everything was clear and neat and there were no doubts or questions. All was good and well, and hell, I was one of the "kings of the world." I left the meeting, got back in the car, cranked up the music and fell back into the infinite sea where there are no answers, only questions and well, of course, there's the rock & roll adrenaline kick that washes over me, and in some weird, unexplainable way that feeling, in that moment, the moment that opens up like an ocean, timeless, is like the only thing I can call home...