"What's missing from pop music is danger" | Prince

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Rock and Roll seems to be a rather disclosed subject now days, does it not? The talk of the old time glitz and glam draws people to become dazed and confused- heartfelt rockers with a sparkle in their eye and a nose full of coke.

It all sounds quite quaint, now doesn’t it?

“Those days”- that’s how I so eloquently refer to the beautiful past. THOSE DAYS, the good ol’ days. There’s a reason that phrase is used so much by the over 40’s. We would never know; us youngens, as we didn’t live in the days where music was still alive and thriving in people’s veins, they did. We only have a little taste, and look how much joy we find it in. Imagine seeing that live, now there’s something to think about.

So, those days, they’re forgotten in modern culture. There will always be the rock and roll souls. That will never die out, it regenerates, always. Though fewer people are chosen to have a heart that swoons by the pluck of a guitar.

If I were to ask a teen who Marc Bolan was, I can almost guarantee (this is said from experience of questioning) they will shrug in their skinny jeans, adjust their Reading wristbands and go back to skipping through their handheld, revolutionary rectangles. They haven’t a clue. However, what they lack in knowledge of the likes of Freddie Mercury, Syd Barrett and Jimmy Page, they make up for by polluting the ears with talks of Dizzie Rascal, Ndubz and need I mention that boy band? I don’t want to, don’t make me. You all know exactly who I mean. The ones who would have no career if they all had less pretty faces. Them.

All these names? I mean Tiny Tempa? That sounds like a delicious chocolate bar.

You simply don’t find music that’s fuelled by musicians now days; of course a few slip through the cracks in the wall, enough to feed the hungry, but not fully satisfy. A cracker, a small, tasty cracker. But we all lack the mainstream coating, the cream cheese melodies.

The label, or rather occupation ‘musician’ has become relaxed in the latest dictionary of the times, stretched to breaking point. If you can pick up a microphone and wear a low cut top, you can be a pop star.

Real music, pure music, that’s what I miss so. Music that wasn’t made for money but for the melody. The best little tunes to escape into our speakers where those kinds, music that exists for the meaning.

Anywhooo, back to my original Rock and rock sentiment, and I say Rock and roll as it was surprisingly one of the most honest genres, rockers were the real ones, they liked to put on a show, and may be partial to the odd bit of lipstick.

Music was far more precious when they made it, the originals. A tasty treat for the ears, and a visual reward for the retinas.

A disc mixed with soul and make-up, even the music had glitter on it. It was an opera, in depth, thought out and utterly pure. Now it’s a prostitute. Plastered in fakery. It’s sad to  think we rarely see a song live that was written by one of the characters on stage, alone in their room, whiskey in one hand and a pen in the other. Did he know when he wrote that lovely songsie that millions of people would be practically chanting the words he formed, that must be a feeling, an irreplaceable and unformable feeling? One, I’m sure few people feel in this day and age.

Now, this rather strange rant is for a reason, as there is hope. The problem isn’t the talent, there’s plenty out there, never fear. There will always be true talent, walking absentmindedly into the limelight, rubbing their calloused fingers on their jeans. It’s the Medias fault, as it always is. Real music doesn’t sell because the young have been brainwashed into this new music scene. How are they ever going to appreciate real music when they’ve never heard it, it’s not their fault.

There’s no real point in this, no point at all. I just wanted to get my views across, in all truthfulness, I was at the pub, bored and truly fed up of the poisonous noise flooding into my ears. So I scribbled out my anger. I do admittedly feel, better, though in my happiness, somewhere mixed inside is a small inkling of sadness knowing that this is the reality of music today. I’ll never change it, not now, let’s just hope those beauties out there that us music appreciators will break onto the radio. Doherty or White for 3 minutes? Is that too much to ask? Apparently so.

What’s ‘On the Rocks’? (Named so appropriately as that is how one preferrers to have the whiskey served.)

It came to my attention that a lot of people feel the same way I do about music. A whole LOT of people. So why not have a meeting point? On The Rocks is strictly for the good eggs of the barn. You won’t find a single pop song on here sonnie jim; but joyous guitar riffs will be a’plenty. Our team and myself make it our aim to find you, our audience the very best that mainstream music and music in general has to offer… Focussing particularly on new, golden artists.

So, release your dainty waves, wear your tour shirt with pride, and lift your index and pinky fingers. This is a god damn rock and roll magazine with heart and pride. Enjoy the ride.