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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


Somehow …

©2024 The Hesh Inc.

"TPOM" - original AI art by The Hesh Inc.
Check out that band!

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.

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