I remember being crashed out in a friend’s bedroom, listening to early Black Sabbath on a summer evening, windows open as a storm rolled in from the West. The peals of thunder fitted themselves into the music, raising my hackles and the charged air only enhanced the atmosphere. We talked across every subject as teenagers do (or I hope they still do, emerging from behind their consoles and phones briefly), while the storm lashed outside. Rain blew in the window and things flew around.
Even though we were both stationary, the feeling of being alive, of being part of something yet infinitely above things was awesome. For a moment on that summer night, we were gods. Or at least dark avatars of storm.
The moment came and eventually departed. I am sure that the coincidence of heavy metal and profound events in life cemented my love of rock music.
I do not care. I can listen to certain tracks and I am restored to be that dark avatar of storm, years unravelling and taking my worries and fatigue with them. For the length of a track, I am manifest destiny, I am indestructible and I can do any-fucking-thing.
Then, as all things must, the track finishes. I pack my air guitar away and grin. I know it’s just a momentary transport, but the echoes stay with me.
And that is precious. To walk with the mists of power wafting through your soul. Or something like that 😀
Because that is why the longhair you see doesn’t really seem bothered by the minutae of life. He knows there are greater things coming and that the trivia is not the all of life.
May you have something that restores your child, your belief and your magic.
I can recommend rock ‘n’ roll if you’re still seeking.