A Rock ‘n’ Roll Monologue 

Wine, women and song; that’s what Frank used to say. And he should’ve known since he used all three. Me, I’m into sex, drugs and rock and roll. Same difference, you might say. Only a little bit rougher. You dig. Like Pete Townshend’s fond of saying, “Won’t get fooled again.”

Well, the times they are a-changing, and that’s my guitar flying through the air. Just to let you know, I never was into Nirvana. Too much bang-your-head-against-the-wall-boys noise. It’s Knopfler and the Straits ‘cause we are the Sultans of Creole, we are the Sultans of Swing. Now, that’s guitar, man. A Stratocaster. I love Eddie Cochran and all those Summertime Blues. But as Pink Floyd used to say, we’re still learning to fly.

Cut my first CD last year. A bit Uriah Heep, Black Sabbath without the Oz. Man, that Lita Ford was bitchin’. She and Joan Jett were out of this world Runaways. Called the CD “Teeth.” Peter Max, the Maxman, offered to do cover art. Maybe a werewolf. But Richard Avedon did it for us, you know. Now he’s on the other side. He died, man. Went to that Photographic Studio in the Sky, man. Groovy.

Hey, Paul is dead. Yeah, and Sergeant Pepper ain’t feeling so good his own sweet self. Richard’s up there with the Ansel. Ansel Adams, don’t you dig? I’m not a frogman, goo goo g’ joob. Hey, the Troggs were super deluxe. Wild Thing. I met that groupie in a bar and went round the world and over the moon. Yeah, and I’m talkin’ Keith too. Knew the Stones. Think she was doing jumping jack flash for Mick and Keith.

Janis sure could blast. Had a great set of pipes. Down at Monterrey. Blew Mama Cass out of her pipes. Well, that’s what’s happening with the Sounds of Silence. Simon and Garfunkel, they broke up. You don’t say. Me and Julio down by the Schoolyard.

Way, man, we done that CD. Sold three million. Got Duran-Duran-ed on MTV. Right up there with the Elvis, man. That’s Elvis Costello, not the King. Graceland, you don’t say. Sun Studio in Memphistown—Elvis and Johnny and Jerry Lee and Carl all putting on their best Johnny B. Goode in his Blue Suedes. Groovy.

Wine, women and song to you too, man. Don’t forget everybody’s trying to be my baby. And I’m outta here. See ya.

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