I don't listen to the radio too often because New York music radio sucks. But once in a while, K-Rock comes up with something good. This time, it's the Metal Meltdown Weekend.
They blasted off the metal mania at 3pm, when I was in my car, driving home towards a three day weekend. First song: Scorpions, Rock You Like a Hurricane.
You know the rest. Windows down, volume turned up to 11, resurrecting my metal goddess scream. And it dawned on me: I miss stadium rock.
You know what I mean by stadium rock (a/k/a arena rock). High-pitched, screaming lyrics in songs that put today's three minute ditties to shame. Blazing guitar solos. Rolling drums. Come on, get there with me.
You're in a stadium, circa 1979, wearing your baseball jersey, probably the one with the AC/DC logo on it. Tens of thousands of fellow metal heads swarm around you. And then, the lights go down. Laser beams turn on. It's all neon and effected smoke. The drum roll begins and some dude in a leather vest and sequined pants is being lowered onto the stage by strings. The guitarist screeches his entrance and the leather dude emits a roar into his microphone. Rock. On.
For the next three hours you're a mess of sweat and spilled beer. You smell like Cheech and Chong's van. Your throat is sore and your ears are ringing. And as the leather dude and his band exit the stage, you let out a strained scream and flick your Bic until your thumb goes numb.
That is rock and roll. God damn, I miss those days.
I intend to spend this weekend with K-Rock's metal mania turned up all the way. I'm going to drink nothing but warm Budweiser, cut my hair into a mullet and turn my living room into a replica of Nassau Coliseum, complete with strobe and laser lights and bad acoustics. I'm even going to pretend there's some dude outside who wants to rip me off by trying to sell me a nickel bag of oregano, and I'll kick his ass and have my boyfriend kick his ass too and then we'll all go hang out behind 7-11 and talk about how much Ozzy fucking rocks, man.
Eh, who am I kidding? I'll be drinking martinis and painting the trim in the kitchen while Dio'sRainbow in the Dark blares from the speakers and makes me feel old. But I do take solace in the fact that Dee Snider is seven years older than me.