24 March 2014

Welcome To Permanent Geezerhood

More than a few of my recent music purchases have me wondering if I have not at last slipped into permanent geezerhood. The Who, Led Zeppelin and the Rolling Stones?

Fuck me.

Never would have thought I would go there.

Fucking hippies!

The music of school dances and 8-track players. Hash in my pocket, my pipe and my dazed and confused anything you fucking want high school locker.

Guess I ought to permit myself some nostalgia. Yet it seems a little early in life to be looking at old photos. Old photos of skinny, healthy motherfuckers drinking beer from stubbies and smoking cannabis from countries you would not want to visit without a Canadian army escort.

Today I went back to the '70s yet again. BTO have released a 40th anniversary edition of "Not Fragile," one of my favourite records ever. They re-mastered the old record and coupled it with some brilliant concert recordings from cities like Chicago and Dope City.

Do I need to tell you to go fucking buy it?

Do I need to tell you to turn it up loud?

Do I need to tell you to fuck off if you don't?


Anonymous said...

Ba ba bup a bup ba ba bup!

Ba ba bup a bup ba bup bup bup!

Not fragile! Over you!

on 8 track!!!

Best though was the guts of one of those piano key cassette players, no plastic case. Who knows why, maybe I got it from Joe in some kind of swap.

The solder joints on the bottom of the circuit board helped it stick on top of the blue carpet on the transmission hump in front of the seat of my 1967 Pontiac.

Wires went to speakers installed in the back deck of the car in the 6x9 holes thoughtfully provided by GM, and another to a 6-volt battery inside the glove compartment.

Cars in those days had room, mofos.

I "borrowed" my brother's cassettes of Alice Cooper, Frankenstein by Edgar Winter, stuff copied off the radio, and we rocked to that homemade shit back in 1976.

Gas money was the only shortage, but rides home from school for anybody willing to cough up a dime or a quarter made up the fuel bill.

Going into the gas station and rationing out 97 cents worth of petrol, because that's what we had.

Always got home, although sometimes I had to use a bit of the camp stove white gas to get back down the hill to school again.

That stuff ran the engine after you turned off the key, it's called dieseling.

Me geezer too.

- Jonku

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

Now I have come to terms with my inner geezer I guess I can go ahead and start going to the dinosaur shows at the fucking casinos with one of my local ol' dear associations.