You can teach an old dog many new tricks
You can play a new and different beat over the same old riffs
Reggae, rhythm’n’blues, or rock’n’roll
All you need is a crackerjack band to get that 8-ball in the hole
Well now, the rhythm ain’t just rock’n’roll, it’s a rolling heartbeat
Gonna put the long-lost jukebox heroes back into the front seat
Scared of hiring street-smart romantics who are tough but tender?
Rock’n’roll, no surrender!
Let’s go crazy on a Saturday night summer of ‘82
Three of us walk into JBR, Scotty, me, and Stu
Sweat pours off the walls mingling with the stench of spilled beer and stale cigarette smoke
The place can explode any second ‘cause the band is going for broke
They’re propelled by the mighty roar of guitars slamming into the same riff racing to a climax on a dead-end street
Playing as though life depends on getting through a tight corner at maximum speed
This is street-level, kickass rock’n’roll, guaranteed to blow up the night
But in that moment, everything’s a good deal better than all right
Look onstage, I know that man! I hear he’s got a new record out soon
Hey, he just threw an empty bottle in the corner and banged out another blues tune
He’s the guy who knows who put the bomp but he won’t tell, ever
That song he’s playing now may be his final song forever
The guitar screams, the organ howls, the vocals roar, the drums crash
From hard rock and heavy metal to blue-eyed soul and boardwalk trash
This dude has it all and he’s throwing it all away
He’s riding with the crowd like a surfer on a tidal wave!
Let’s go!!!
Check out that band! High school punk rockers trying to play the blues
They’re up onstage to have a good time, they’re only in it for the booze
They’re loose as hell, if they get anywhere it’ll be a strange twist of fate
But the funniest thing is that we all think it sounds great
That glass you see on the piano ain’t water, my man
And that little white box next to it sure didn’t come from Candy Land
Hell, shoot that piano player ‘cause he thinks he owns the place
Those chords he’s banging out sound real nice but damned if he can keep the pace
The guitarist doesn’t know the difference between rhythm and lead
He’s gonna keep on layin’ back, no matter what the speed
That ain’t no cigarette the guitar player is smokin’
If you expect me to believe he’s all there, man, you gotta be jokin’
The bass player is tuning up and playing at the same time
He’ll be a deer in the headlights if the drummer stops on a dime
The drummer is drumming and playing harmonica together
They’re loose as hell they can’t decide which way whatever
This band tries too hard to make up its own style
But those two saxophones, man, make the whole thing worthwhile
And the boys played the blues with four carburetors and everybody shouted Do it one more time!
Stuie got smashed, Scotty had to take him back to the hotel, and I danced with an unknown girl till closing time
Lovers struggling, college girls dancing, and a summer night dissolving into daylight
With the shout of the barman and a door slamming closed, we were all turned out into the midnight
The power is all in the music
The power to see and be the light
The power to take it all in and then give it back with such magic
It’s yours if you can use it right
With everyone in it for the money
It’s so hard to find real soul now
But I know that as long as nights like that one are still possible
There’s still innocence left in the world
Somewhere
Somehow …
©2024 The Hesh Inc.
This song was written during my IDF service in the second half of the 1980s. Unfortunately it never made it past my four walls, but it gives a glimpse into a scene that I was part of, in a more innocent time. The story in the lyrics is pretty much true, albeit comprised of many bits and pieces that happened in Jerusalem's legendary JBR rock club in the early 1980s.