You Just Can't Have It All

Listening to a lot of old Bob Seger the past few days.




I'm sure that means something even if I can't figure out exactly what.




If you have an idea, drop me a line.




Meanwhile, if you can actually get from Denver to Loveland Pass in under half an hour, mad props to you.

Forgotten Christmas Songs, Part 12

I almost forgot this one...

Perhaps because there is no good explanation for this.

Rock & Roll Songs Stuck in my Brain

Yeah, I'm still listening to that great Frank Turner song...

Which got me to thinking about Rock & Roll songs about Rock & Roll.

So off of the top of my head, here's a few:

Lou Reed shows how the right radio station can save your life with Rock & Roll:




The Kinks realize there's still rock left even after everyone says it's dead:



And of course, all of Chuck's children are out there playing his licks (if you need a fix):

Colorado State Policeman Trooper Cat

Because It's Uphill

Loveland pass has an elevation of 11,991 feet above Sea Level.

Denver, Colorado, about 60 miles away, is about 5600 feet above Sea Level.

That's an average grade of 2% for 60 miles, although the road at its steepest point is about a 15% grade.

So, no matter how you slice it, no matter how badly you're fleeing from a drug-deal-gone-bad, making it to Loveland pass in under half an hour is quite the accomplishment.

Happy 68th birthday, sorry it's a few days late...

Sweet 16's Turned 31

All of Chuck's Children Are Out There Playing His Licks

She said she was tired.

It was understandable. Between the job that stretched into the evenings and the kid who wouldn't sleep through the night, she had a lot going on.

Even when she could sleep, she'd find herself tossing and turning, wondering where all her energy had gone.

So when she complained over Facebook that she needed something to rejuvenate her, her friends all weighed in -- with most people urging her to take a long tropical vacation.

That wasn't in the cards.

But then her girlfriends urged her to go out with them one night. Like they used to.

To a club, where a band that the hipsters fawn over would play. A band they claimed would be household names within a few months. And here's a chance to hear them in a small club with a few dozen other people.

So she got a babysitter.

And she dressed up in the clothes she used to wear 15 pounds and 5 years earlier.

And she met her (still-single) friends. They refused to take her "Mom-car" and piled into the trendy sports car owned by her trendiest, hippest girlfriend.

And they paid $15 to park.

And $11 each to get into the show. And $17 for drinks. (Until some guys showed up and bought them a couple rounds.)

The next day, she took to Facebook to report on what happened.

The music was a lot louder than she remembered. And she forgot to bring earplugs.

The drinks were a lot more watered-down than they used to be. And the band was sloppier (or maybe the bands were always sloppy but she hadn't noticed when the drinks were stronger).

And at the end of the night, she was happy. But even more tired than she used to be.

While it may be true that Rock & Roll Never Forgets, I wouldn't necessarily trust its memory either.