Jamie wrote:

That was the point I was making about living in the past with the 
"wayback
machine". There's been 35 years worth of music SINCE the Beach Boys. And 
it
isn't a matter of feeling superior. It's a matter of growing along with 
two
generations of musical change. I don't feel the need to investigate that
sunny little corner of the '60s anymore than most people here would have 
the
need to go back and investigate German jazz pre-World War II. It would 
not
speak to who I am as a music listener NOW.

In reply:

Okay Jamie, I hear ya. To each his own, certainly. Who *I* am as a music 
listener right now, on this very day, is a guy who will most joyfully go 
"back" and listen and love every minute of, say, Endless Summer, and 
then plow right ahead into The Pipettes, Drake Bell or the new Scritti 
Politti, just for example. I'm 48 and I just don't see any difference at 
all. Not specifically in the styles or sounds of those couple of bands, 
of course, but I just listen to everything, regardless of when it was 
made or who made it. My first record was Meet the Beatles, my newest is 
The Feeling's "12 Stops". I listen to everything in between, musically 
and chronologically *all the time*, back and forth. I revisit sunny 
little corners, dark bleak alleys, melancholy little parks and 
overlooks, whatever suits my mood. The 35 years of music since the Beach 
Boys isn't necessarily any better or worse than the 35 years of music 
that preceded it, fair enough? I most happily live in the past (however 
one defines it) and all the rest of the years too, right up until now, 
and I look forward with sweet anticipation to whatever new AND old music 
I'll be listening to 20 years from now (God willing). I make no 
distinctions and I don't understand why anyone would.

Make me cry, laugh, think, dance. Teach me, piss me off, celebrate with 
me, console me, push me over the edge, help keep me young at heart. Just 
please keep making the music, all of you! But please, for God's sake, 
let's just stop analyzing the shit out of everything for at least a 
little while. It's probably human nature to try and make sense of it 
all, but last time I looked, this was still *rock and roll*. Ignore the 
critics, bloggers and other "typists" and just crank it up. And while 
we're all at it, let's check our massive ego's at the digital door and 
just fucking DANCE, for God's sake. Let's all be 13 again (ahh ... 1972) 
and give the literary masturbation a nice long break. Too many words, 
not enough FUN. Celebrate, inform, share information, but please leave 
the rest of the crap to the historians.

I need a ZZTop spinal readjustment, a Clash high colonic and a total 
Ramones lobotomy. "To go" please, and throw in a handful of those little 
salt packets, too. Put the top down and mash that motherfucker to the 
floor. Give me the entire Hunter S. Thompson "treatment" and cue the 
GFR!

Cuz I don't need a whole lot's of money, I don't need a big fine car ...

jeff teez