Sudetenland Tales by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Sudetenland Tales
Page 64
Keith: “Only if the audience promises not to forget who we are before the encore. Though honestly, it adds mystery. ‘Who are these leather clad crypt keepers?’ keeps the vibe fresh.”
G-Force: “Any final thoughts for your fans?”
Keith: “No finalities here, but aging ain't the end of rock. It’s just slower, creakier, and occasionally sponsored by incontinence pads. We may fall, but we never drop the beat.”
G-Force departed and Keith read his snail fan mail.
To My Darling Keith,
It’s me; Doris. You probably remember me as “Cherry Smoke” from the ’67 tour when you mistook my portable fan for a hair dryer and thanked me for my contribution to rock history.
Last night’s show… sublime. You fell with such grace, such abandon, such feeling. Watching your hip lead the descent before the rest of you followed—it was art. I wept. And won twenty bucks. Sorry, Ron.
The moment you played that warped chord during “Hangie” while lying sideways on your amp, I felt like we were back in the van behind Leeds Town Hall. You told me, “The music’s louder when your head’s on the speaker,” and I haven’t heard properly since.