Guitarology #9

The Rock and Roll Disease

Wooster, Ohio, a typical rural American community on the crossroads between Over There and That Other Place. The summer of ’56 was pretty much like the summer of ’54 and ‘55. Especially on a Saturday morning when some 8 year olds would religiously attend the town cinema for the 25 cent matinee - three features and 10 cartoons. More often than not they would eventually emerge, eyelids blinking, into the late afternoon sun to be met by moms in station wagons. One would be met by a mom on foot, who would tuck his shirt into his Levi 501’s, bought with room to grow, then lead him by the hand down Main Street. The couple looking for all the world like the opening scene from the film “Tommy” with Ann Margaret and the boy. This mom however, though also having flaming red hair, is much prettier than Ann Margaret.

They amble into The Lucky Strike Tavern (“Bowling! Air Conditioned! It’s Cool Inside!”). The muffled thunder and lightening rolling from one the three lanes available meets the ears, sawdust meets the feet, and the nose is filled with cigarettes, beer, and food that’s cheap. A big butted man says, “Hop on up son,” and effortlessly plops the boy down on the red naugahyde and chrome bar stool. “Peggy, bring me another Pabst please, a Coke for your grandson, and whatever your daughter would like.”

Young eyes wander the room, instantly settling on the rather large and colorful something new in the very familiar tavern. “Hey Grandma, what’s that!?” “Oh we finally got a new jukebox. We got some new records too.”

Mom takes out a dime, holds it out to the boy and says, “Punch up A3.” The innocent lad trustfully jumps down, crosses the room and stands before an object which in design and Cosmic Significance is not unlike an alter. An offering is made with the small silver coin, embossed symbolically with the likeness of the winged god Mercury. The title “Hound Dog” is selected and irresistible mechanical forces set in motion. A carousel of glossy discs, so black their surface appears three dimensional with a rainbow arc of reflected light, begins to rotate. One disc is selected by an alien like chrome arm, grasping its edges, lifting and turning it within the glowing glass case, descending to a horizontal position where the disc is gently deposited on a circular table spinning at 45 revolutions per minute. A stylus, more nail than needle, slides into contact like a Venutian mind probe. Electrical charges pulse across pure copper activating a magnet composed of aluminum, nickel and the strategically vital element cobalt. The paper cone within the military grade speaker fluctuates and the very air is altered, creating waves of energy which wash up on the tiny membrane close to the brain of the boy, triggering a reflex of electricity and chemicals. A life is transformed. The Rock and Roll Disease has claimed another victim.

The Rock and Roll Disease, which when contracted dooms a soul to be forevermore tormented by jungle rhythms. The Rock and Roll Disease, an addiction to the vibrations of metal across magnetic currents combined with hammer like blows of thick wooden sticks on animal skins and voices of passion singing words often rife with hidden sexual content, all launching desires of the flesh within the victim. The Rock and Roll Disease, which in its worse manifestations can develop into an incurable compulsion to public display, attempts to wring Mojo from the ether, and occasional howling at the moon.

If these symptoms seem familiar to you, take some solace. You are not alone. It’s not your fault. Perhaps it was loving parents who thought you’d be amused by the funny music or may have themselves been carriers without knowing - there is some evidence for genetic predisposition. Or perhaps other sufferers, blissfully unaware when they first invited you on stage to “have a knock” that the subsequent consequence would be decades of trying to get you off. Oh yes, the Rock and Roll Disease is among us. Some suggest brought by those not of this Earth. It rocks. It rolls. It’s a disease. Get used to it.

Family and friends, try to understand and lend support to loved ones who may be afflicted. When possible attend their gatherings. When the more severely ailing perform their exorcisms, bang your hands together very quickly and shout or whistle loudly. It helps bring them peace. If you are moved to dance even better, for then they may sleep at night. But be vigilant. We are all vulnerable. Even a president of The United States has fallen prey. Remember doctors say, “You might get better but you’ll never get well.”

Courage ©2006 Steve Power

Guitar Strings Home | Acoustic Guitar Strings | Elixir Guitar Strings | Wholesale Galli Strings | Wholesale Herdim Guitar Picks