WE BUILT THIS CITY ON ROCK 'N ROLL

Dear Readers,

I can still recall when rock and roll was the coolest form of music. Rock bands put out the best songs, performed the greatest concerts and had the image of rebels outside the 'system'. Theirs was the lifestyle we all wanted - a freewheeling alternative to the straight, corporate world, unconcerned with anything except the music.
But my illusions have been shattered. I recently read of the delay in construction of the U2 building in Dublin, Scotland. The U2 what? Yes, dear readers, the Scottish band, U2 was actually planning to build a skyscraper in the heart of Dublin, complete with office space, luxury condos and capped off with a glass-enclosed recording studio for the exclusive use of the tiresomely preachy band. It would have been the tallest building in the world.
It's delay has something to do with this world financial crisis thing, but what hit me was the fact that it was even considered. Can you imagine paying rent to your landlord - lead singer and world saviour Bongo? How about calling upstairs to get guitar player The Ledge to come unblock your sink? The mind boggles. I thought rock and roll operated outside the regular world. I guess I was way wrong.
If you think about it, rock stars weren't supposed to live past the age of 27 anyway. A quick list of rockers who checked out at that point in their lives is impressive - Jimi Hendrix, Janice Joplin, Kurt Cobrain, Brian Jones, Jim Morrison and Robert Goulet to name but four.
Even poor Elvis Presley, in a sad act of remorse over his bloated lifestyle, had his birth certificate altered two days before he fell off his gold-plated toilet and into rock heaven - yes, at a mere 27 years young. Today - at least - Presley Towers is nobody's address.
Once rock gods survived to the age of 28, they changed. Those who still had some money left after being ripped off by managers, concert promoters, record executives, accountants, bogus charities, religions, girlfriends, wives and relatives, suddenly wanted to buy some security. But having conquered the music world, where was there left to go? Big Business was the answer.
It was Pete Townhouse who wrote ' Hope I die before I get old' but is Pete dead? Nope. It was his Who bandmates Keith Moonpie and John Entwissel who got Pete's wish. Today - in between farewell tours - Townhouse continues to build multi-story parking garages all across Europe, taking scant notice of the cultural damage he's doing. His next project is a 2,200-space pay-and-display garage in Rome - on the site of the 2,000 year-old Coliseum, which is scheduled for demolition in February. My Generation indeed!
Other examples abound. When some years ago, David Bowie sold his music catalog as stock shares, I figured it was probably a pretty good idea. I'm now horrified to learn that as part of the deal, Bowie was named Chairman of The World Bank! That's a lot of responsibility to give to a man who used to dye his hair fuchsia. Is there Life On Mars? Keef Richards may look like a half-dead junkie but the Rolling Stone Magazine guitarist is a major player in a vital world commodity - rubber. Wild Horses couldn't drag him away from that gig. Robert PotPlant of the aged metal band, Lid Zeppelin can't be bothered to reunite for a tour with his old mates because he prefers to remain at the helm of his check cashing franchise which now boasts over 1,700 branches in 12 states. Dazed And Confused? I think not. Seen Aerosmith lately? No, because canyon-mouthed singer Steven Tyler is too busy gaining government contracts for his fancy heating and cooling empire. Missing rock and roll, Steve-o? Dream On.
I can't blame 'legacy' acts for their mainstream mass migration, after all a quick glance at the top 40 these days reveals not a trace of rock and roll. The ride is over. Music giants of today, like P-Diddley (or whatever his name is this year) and Ciley Myrus leave no doubt as to why they're in it - purely for the money. I'm just crestfallen that the free-spirited heroes of my childhoods would rather have their names on cornerstones instead of where they really belong - on tombstones.
If you listen closely to track 4 on Fink Ployd's LP One Of These Days I'm Going To Be A Chief Financial Officer, I swear you can hear a kettle boiling at about 3:06 into the song. No Lie. It always makes me think it must have been recorded about 4 o'clock, where worldwide, it was time for tea.