(Although I didn’t need to “get into” Freedom. I played the shit out of this record in high school. Hell, my band–A Bunch Of Guys From France–even covered Rockin’ In The Free World, but that may have been due to how few chords were in the song.)
Garcia was there. They just didn’t film it. Swear to God.
Would I lie to you?
(Anyway, go check out the wonderful Rob Mitchum on Twitter, who is watching all 9,000 hours of the broadcast and tweeting about it. I flaked on the Led Zeppelin recap, but still might do it tonight if I can’t think up anything else to bullshit about.)
I never really got Neil Young. I liked the record with Rockin’ in the Free World on it, and Tonight’s the Night; when that piano song about Mother Nature flying into the sun comes on the radio, I leave it on. That’s about it, honestly.
Others–and people whose musical tastes I respect–can’t get enough of the guy. Perhaps being obsessed with Dylan wasn’t white enough: who can understand the longings of the Rock Nerd’s heart?
Women would come from towns far and wide to give these men all of their sex. They were rock stars, dammit.
PLUS: Which jacket comes out of Thunderdome alive? At first: Neil, of course. There’s easily eight things wrong with that jacket I could name immediately and I’m sure that further inspection would also reveal nothing but horror. You could stop at the fringe; no one would blame you for saying “fringe” and refusing to have anything more to do with that jacket.
The way a leather blazer wrinkles at the elbow is almost pornographic.
And then you realize that whatever the hell Garcia has on has a zipper on it.