| "Bliss was it in that dawn" (3.30 am to be precise)
"to be alive and to be young (again) was heaven". Visionary echoes of sixties
California, seventies Woodstock, eighties Glastonbury - and now, nineties Carvoeiro, bring
joy to the heart, tears to the eye and rot to the gut. It is a potent brew - and the
brandy's cheap, too. To hear Bobby blast a hole in "Blue Suede
Shoes" is to experience the boundary at which he ceases to be a mere musician. Roger
rambles reassuringly up to the "Stairway to Heaven" reassuringly with hardly a
stumble on the way.
To watch Dino reduce "American Pie" to apple crumble is to know the
difference magic and mediocrity, Martini and Madrona. Wild Things are mere Troglodytes by
comparison.
The false prophets who predicted the demise of rock failed to appreciate the
aesthetic beauty of Don McLean’s precipitously poignant rock requiem. The music never
died.
It rocks on forever at the Jailhouse, its soul uplifted for those who seek to
satisfy their spiritual salvation free from the glitzy glamour of faded alumni.
History would have us believe that the Cavern and Brixton Academy are the
only true sources of great inspiration. But the unquenchable endeavour to excel never dies
in the human spirit and out of this voyage of the soul a new Mecca is born.
So goodbye, Carvoeiro. As the silver bird wings its way through the
"Tequila Sunrise", "Most of Us are Sad". Life can never be the same
again. "Take it easy".
To the Sues add Stus of this world, the message is simple. Fame is transient for
mere mortals but not for those touched by the Gods. So free your mind and get down at the
Jailhouse. Admission is free - escape at your peril. |
