The Best Rock and Roll Band Ever

SO I haven't been doing this for a while, because it has become not too painfully evident not only that not too many people read me online, but not too many are reading my book either. I know I could double the bytes I have online, and there’s already a whole book there, and it’s just like buying another lottery ticket. But I can seem cool and more useful than a food and beverage purchaser.

BUT I want to get back into it. I have for a while, but I'm going to ease into this like The Who easing into "I Can See for Miles and Miles." What a kickass song. And it hinted at absolutely nothing that was to come for The Who and their fans. Yeah, the drumming went from implied to straight up "Happy Jack" slapping them bitches around, and the guitar playing allowed for some serious Mod posing. Bass line...solid like every British bassline ever. But the smooth part that would so soon fade away was Daltry. Fucking Daltry. It's right there with The Kinks. It's McCartney smooth, well not quite. But it's not the fucking rock and roll roar that would inform my fucking heart, my stomach, my viscera in general, that 'every shotgun sings a song.'

SO here I am, my own groove. Forever more about the rhythm section, never the lead. Never the howl. A more persistent kind of passion. Love. Yeah, I'm feeling pretty fucking important right now, and I'll try and be funny in a second, but fuck man, I'm talking about The Who here. The goddamn motherfucking kings of me. The Who.

JEFF Rauscher did a book report on them in 9th grade. Google that, Jefe. Hola.WELL like it did last time, this starts with a song. Amazing. Creepy. Not nearly as inspired. Not neary as anything. But a better song. Slower life since then, but fuck if I didn't write a better song.

SO that was me rambling, posing. All that. Everything after I stopped talking about The Who. Waiting for the beat for Pete to jump onto his Fender and start it like a Triumph on a cold, cold day. Waiting to beat the ever loving shit out of my drum kit. I think that's the thing about The Who. They loved music more than their instruments. That's a transcendant moment, when you can just with absolute certainty know that you don't need that guitar. That wearing away that drum kit is the noblest pursuit. I think to Keith Moon, it was the drums standing between him and rock and roll. That it's the means and not the end, or all the means to a sweeeeet fucking ending. It's like Paul Atreides not needing the Weirding Module. Oh hell yeah I can keep it rock and roll, gang. Just like when Sting got himself split and rended by Kyle McLaughlin. "Muaaaaaaaah Dib!" No no. Growl it out. Yeah. Ladies can purr it. Chani.

OKAY, so all the fucking Dune references. That was me being Townsend. Cigarette dangling waiting for the beat again. Waiting for the Loon. That's it Roger. Lure them in. They have no fucking idea. We're all going to jump them. Roll them like they need it. Keep it sweet. Keep it sweet. You think they see "Baba O'Reilly" over the horizon? They don't. They don't.