Almost every rhyme, predictable. Almost every sentiment, common (hopefully). But I am behind this one, and you should be, too. For commonality and for predictability, actually. Because rock and roll has come around to the point where the transgressiveness and wanton destruction it often inspires begins to threaten the things it made possible in the first place (call me old fart, but look at the Tea Party first), and we need somebody to say, get back. And this time, belong.
It might as well be Julian Lennon. Many steal from the past, some fear it (check the Thicke fellow who has to preemptively sue the ghost of Marvin Gaye, being that afraid, rightfully, that the ghost shows him up). Lennon sketches uncertainty, pain, disconnection, and hoping against hope for peace (plus commonality) touching on his father with a transplanted line from Beatledom, touching on George with hints of the Indian tablas, touching on Paul with pop sincerity (which we adore, in classic Paul fashion, even when slightly over-smoothed).
And touching on Ringo, actually, because Ringo has always said Peace and Love. I wish it were that simple, sure. It is not. But we need to think about it before we can achieve. And we lead by example. When Steven Tyler joins in on the one with the Beatle bit, he does the one thing nobody expects Steven Tyler to do. Ever. He put himself into the background and actually seems happy to stay there. He is helping out a friend. Right direction. One step.
Almost every rhyme, predictable. Almost every sentiment, common (hopefully). But I am behind this one, and you should be, too. For commonality and for predictability, actually. Because rock and roll has come around to the point where the transgressiveness and wanton destruction it often inspires begins to threaten the things it made possible in the first place (call me old fart, but look at the Tea Party first), and we need somebody to say, get back. And this time, belong.
It might as well be Julian Lennon. Many steal from the past, some fear it (check the Thicke fellow who has to preemptively sue the ghost of Marvin Gaye, being that afraid, rightfully, that the ghost shows him up). Lennon sketches uncertainty, pain, disconnection, and hoping against hope for peace (plus commonality) touching on his father with a transplanted line from Beatledom, touching on George with hints of the Indian tablas, touching on Paul with pop sincerity (which we adore, in classic Paul fashion, even when slightly over-smoothed).
And touching on Ringo, actually, because Ringo has always said Peace and Love. I wish it were that simple, sure. It is not. But we need to think about it before we can achieve. And we lead by example. When Steven Tyler joins in on the one with the Beatle bit, he does the one thing nobody expects Steven Tyler to do. Ever. He put himself into the background and actually seems happy to stay there. He is helping out a friend. Right direction. One step.