You know you’re a true rocker when you do the rock ‘n’ roll thing with your hands…in your sleep.

Replace “true rocker” with “loser” or synonym of choice, and you have an equally valid description of the photograph above, taken from Passed Out Wookies (via Lileks). This is one of the big reasons I never bought into the whole Nirvana slash Pearl Jam slash Phish slash Grateful Dead slash Jimi Hendrix thing. Not that I was around for the latter two, but really, their descendents exhibit the same level of social awareness cum social inanity. Sure, they play music with a message (well, okay, not the Dead), but it’s pretty repetitive after the first five songs. How many times can you growl into the mic about your increasing angst at the despair of the world and not sound like you’ve taken a few too many hits from the wacky tobaccy?
That’s not to say that there aren’t some entries that truly do “rock”. All Along the Watchtower isn’t a brilliant song–it’s pretty near perfect. Its lyrics and Jimi’s guitar work are sonic versions of a synthesis of Yeats and Eliot, with the impact of Milton for dramatic intent. But man is it depressing, especially if you’re really listening to it. Some people take the high note, that unresolved conclusion to be a hopeful dream of future liberation from the rigid hierarchies and social structures which Dylan saw as primary antagonists to the value of human life. Jimi might be wah-wahing that sentiment, but to me it sounds like an inmate screaming, “Let me out!”
Don’t get me wrong, I like The Wind Cries Mary too, and can even understand the intent of Kurt Cobain screaming “Rape Me”, even though I was, like, over it (snap) in eleventh grade. I was the guy on the bus who’d keep his mouth shut whilst everyone else talked about the latest hit single from Bush because I’d be thinking, “Glycerine means nothing because it has nothing because it knows nothing.” And that pretty much sums up my philosophy on most rock, grunge, and alternative music.
I’m no music critic, so I could be wrong. Might be. I could be cross projecting my own disgust at the slovenly human beings that make up, what, 75% of rocker fans on the bands that formed communities out of such people. But then I look at our passed out wookies and think…nah.
I accidentally fell asleep last night around 9pm, sealing my fate of waking up at 2:30am, all energy drained, yet completely incapable of going back to sleep. Truly though, it was bound to happen sooner or later. You don’t stay up until 3am nights and wake up at 9:30am consistently without eventually using up those Awake points. So the clock resets, and you throw yourself off for one day. It worked out though. I got all my main blogging done by 7:45am (posting time, at least). And an early start means an early finish and an early weekend.
Irish Friday tonight, Negaday tomorrow, and then a day of rest after that. Sounds good to me.