We've been robbed.
Ripped off in broad daylight many years ago.
Lovely businessmen of show business - they also patted us on the shoulder and smiled greasy and smacked their lips.
Good.
I write more and more about the music of the South.
About the first rockers, about the great jazzmen.
About all sorts of bluegrasses and Mississippi deltas - that's what I'll say again.
All those who make up the joy of life for very, very many in the world, all those who are personified by the capacious and resounding word Rock N Roll, in short, all those from whom the heart either stops in sweet languor, or, like crazy, breaks out - all of them were once passed through the show business sausage machine.
For nutritious stuffing.
For an average person like you and me.
Why am I not a layman?!
Or did the music school make a genius out of me?!
Oh no, my dears.
However, she taught me something, that music school from my childhood.
There is a real thing in the world.
There is briquetted-flavored shit.
The second one sells better and more fun - you don't have to chew it: swallow it without washing it down.
Although you can drink.
Optional...
This is a short post of rage.
Probably the shortest in the life of my column on RT.
Maybe, due to the brevity, everyone will take it.
For later reflection.
Show business likes to keep things simple.
Totally.
Elvis would have ended up in Hollywood, releasing more and more cheap and vulgar films over and over again, if he had not found the strength to return from oblivion - and it was a breakthrough and a triumph.
Cash would have been mired in commercial blues with country in half if he had not found the strength to send producers to hell and record his first live album in a maximum security prison - and it was a breakthrough and a triumph.
These two, Elvis and Cash, make it very clear to us: “Yes, guys.
You can be chewed, swallowed and... But that's not all that can happen to you.
Get up.
Just get up and punch those who try to bring you to your knees in the face."
I want you to understand: show business takes everything - the life and aspirations of a star, and the life and aspirations of children, and there is nothing else in our world, the rest is painted by the Heavenly Father on canvas that gets wet in the rain.
A moment - and the colors turned into a mess ...
Today is a farewell mass for Elvis' daughter, Lisa Marie.
It is impossible to imagine that she is not there, and that she will have to tell the Father.
However... He knows everything himself.
What a terrible and gaping void surrounds us.
To what senseless clamor in roadside puddles degenerates what was intended to decorate our lives with you.
Rock is the essence of music of equals.
Everyone who hears and has a heart enters the door of fate.
It was.
So is it now?
For a very long time, no.
Take a hundred articles on any rocker of the first magnitude.
What's there?
Who is he with... What is he with... Why is he... Money.
Charts.
Dirt.
Is there anything about music?
There is.
In two out of a hundred materials.
Music is so boring and uninteresting.
You need meat with a smell.
And to be sure to wallow in it, and to tell everyone afterwards and give it a sniff.
Behind the piles of meaningless garbage, behind all this dung heap, called show business, people have not been seen for a very long time.
who breathed.
Just like us.
We fell in love.
Just like us.
We got drunk.
Just like us.
But that's not what they wanted to tell us.
Not literally...
Beauty requires both sacrifice and detachment.
She is contemplative.
She's not for sale.
And show business is always and only for sale.
Go to gallery page
When we understand this, when we can appreciate the hellish stubbornness of those who were put through the sausage machine, but managed to get back on their feet, then the meanings will be revealed to us.
And Rock will return to its original greatness, brushing off the dust of tabloids and meaningless ratings "who has longer where."
Poor Lisa Marie.
One test is to live in the shadow of your father.
Another is to contemplate what the world is turning into, to which Elvis, with all the passion of his soul, wished only the best.
way down.
We are making our way down.
Driven by thrice-damned showbiz.
But after all, there is such a text of the song in the world ...
There must be lights burning brighter somewhere
Got to be birds flying higher in a sky more blue
If I can dream of a better land
Where all my brothers walk hand in hand
Tell me why, oh why, oh why can't my dream come true
Oh why
There must be peace and understanding sometime
Strong winds of promise that will blow away the doubt and fear
If I can dream of a warmer sun
Where hope shining keeps on everyone
Tell me why, oh why, oh why won't that sun appear
We're lost in a cloud
With too much rain
We're trapped in a world
That's troubled with pain
But as long as a man
Has the strength to dream
He can redeem his soul and fly
Deep in my heart there's a trembling question
Still I am sure that the answer, answer's gonna come somehow
Out there in the dark, there's a beckoning candle, yeah
And while I can think, while I can talk
While I can stand, while I can walk
While I can dream
Oh please let my dream
Come true
right now
Let it come right now
Oh yeah!!!
The point of view of the author may not coincide with the position of the editors.