What is rock and roll, you ask? I just spent 2 hours in a small, sweaty, smoke-filled hall watching 5 men live out their dream amidst swirling lights and sounds loud enough to crack the sky. I watched the crowd, their heads nodding in time with the strumming of guitars and the pounding of drums, their fists raised nearly as high as their voices. Our applause and screams were the segue, the bridge from one chord to the next. For a brief moment, the whole world outside, with its debates and elections, stopped. We remembered that “if we try to lift up our eyes, replacing the lies, we own this moment.” I had a tiny smile on my lips. This is that strange something that can scare parents, alarm teachers, worry governments, and topple gods.
This, my friends and cohorts, is rock and roll.