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Memory of Dad - 20 years... in May it will already be twenty years...
A piece I wrote, to which I am particularly attached, began like this:
For my childhood heroes
Bruno, Ali, and el Che
I add Rock'n'Roll.
Editorial, review, various nonsense?! Probably the last one, but I continue with noble "arrogance" ahahahahah.
Bruno, in 1950, a fresh mechanical expert, left for Brazil. There wasn't much work back at home, and in the South American country, a couple of family friends, who had emigrated for the same reason, were waiting for him in Rio de Janeiro. He stayed thirteen (or fourteen, it's of little importance) years, and his life experiences were the most varied. Technician at the Airport, young manager at the Hotel Copacabana Palace, owner, and manager of a restaurant...
The story of the restaurant remains shrouded in a veil of mystery between truth and legend.
The young man, after selling the restaurant, would have squandered (I would say, however, enjoyed) the entire sum in a couple of evenings/nights with young girls and bets on horses. I can't be sure about the timings, but knowing him and having taken much from him, the essence of the story is undoubtedly true. Following the noble "madness," there were months of wandering in which he fed on bananas and the fortune/skill to find a lady who, in love, maintained him for a year.
All of this, to summarize, was seasoned with a rather fragile nervous system that made him, even then, switch from periods of excitement to others of depressions and various fears.
Grandma had to send him money for the return, he wasn't doing very well.
Returning to Cavriago, again to hyper-summarize, he met and married my mother, splendid and young Miss Emilia and courted by all. The Brazilian or the American (later even the Chinese, as he managed to get a Chinese communist newspaper sent to him for years, which arrived with about ten customs and police station stamps, during the "years of lead" period ahahahahah madness) continued until his death flirting with his beloved demons day after day without interruption (is that how you say it?! Mah...).
As a child, I heard him talk about his Brazilian period, and besides stories of noble girls (which were the most popular, obviously) and "instructing" me on Marxism-Leninism, about Che, Ali, and the Beloved One, Rock'n'Roll also came up. Brunosky wasn't a huge music enthusiast, but he was a young man in Rio during that decade when everything started for our beloved music.
The first sparks of the Devil's music reached me from him. At parties, the magical Carnival, or on Copacabana beach, people danced and did much more to the rhythm of Elvis, Little Richard, Fats Domino rather than Jerry Lee Lewis, Chuck Berry, or Buddy Holly to name a few.
When they tell me "you're worse than your father" they give me the best compliment!
I don't remember who recorded the tape for me, though I have strong suspicions about Pedro, a moderately fanatic mod with the mandatory hairstyle and outfit.
I remembered it when someone talked about it here on debaser (the noble Imasoulman and Pinhead as memory serves). And so I also bought the other three.
Four beautiful albums, with lots of soul and warmth to sell just how I like it.
Because before the Zepp, Doors, Sabbath, Beatles, and my whole lot of exquisite Moldy Rock company... before them, indeed, there was Rocchenrolle.
I know nothing about the eighties, but this is the primal genre I adore. So all those noble bands that in that decade brought a breath of fresh air called Mod revival and Garage revival are in my heart. The Jam of my beloved Paul Weller were the initiators, and the Prisoners, together with the Fuzztones, are my favorites.
Louie Louie, Surfin Bird, and Wooly Bully are the quintessential classics of reference.
The Prisoners are probably the least faithful to the original sound and the most versatile. The guys take more from the legendary sixties and envelop with their mix of primordial garage, soul sounds, beat, and psychedelia typical of the magic decade. Those keyboards that evoke the sound of Manzarek and/or Auger are the extra touch compared to their contemporaries.
Music of a wild but also romantic school party where glee and passion are the perfect and sublime seasoning. They could have been on the soundtrack of Animal House, to understand these noble four guys from Rochester - G.B.
So, down with memories on those trips for a few days during high school where the room of the useless but noble writer transformed into the den of perdition. Pajama parties where the portable stereo, alcohol purchased in the most astute ways on site, and the grass brought for the occasion were the delicious side dish to (almost) naive passions with the noble girls. A preview of the classic suburban bully (cit. noble Odradek).
This album must be listened to all in one go - the version of the original album with the addition of seven luscious bonus tracks. An exhilarating ride. At full volume, wherever you are, let yourself go to emotions and noble memories. If it doesn't fill your soul... you don't have one, make peace with it ahahahah.
If "Hurricane" and "Melanie" are true garage rock'n'roll manifestos and "Tonight" represents a splendid mod ballad, it's when James Taylor's Hammond takes center stage (after this adventure he would form the James Taylor Quartet) that the album reaches absolute peaks. Listening to "Love me Lies," "A Dream Is Gone," and "Far Away" on loop is a healthy delight.
Absolute leader, author, soul of the band was the blond singer-guitarist Graham Day who, from what I have read, seems to have continued over the decades to bring this healthy, no-frills sound around the world with various and disparate projects. His warm and hoarse voice is the other essence of these four most noble ones.
They are said to be among the biggest inspirers of the baggy scene in Manchester some years later. I know squat about it, but certainly in a few years and with only four albums to their credit, they managed, like few others, to attract lovers of the genre.
A hug, Bruno, my friend, wherever you are... and thanks for everything.
A warm greeting also to your beloved noble "old" ones.
The Rocchenrolle is, or should be, the carefree part of this life of mine, trying not to think too much and taking it as it comes... my Blues instead, of this shitty life, conveys suffering and drama to me with the adored demons always impeccably present. I hope that Rocchenrolle comes out the winner more often in this noble fratricidal challenge... but it looks tough ahahahahahah.
Happy listening, Nobles.
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