Fossil Rock Page 2
by C.J. Cain
I have also witnessed the death of an American institution - the record album. Famous artists, illustrators and photographers were hired to design unforgettable album jackets, and their works of art were prominently displayed in milk crates across the country. No album collector was without his static-and-dust-reducing red bottle of D3 fluid, with which he or she religiously cleaned their records.
To be sure, I have embraced the newest technology, but have not forsaken the old. I have an older sister who once laughed at the music I listened to and said, "That will change when you grow up and your tastes mature." Sorry Sis, it has nothing to do with age, it has everything to do with attitude. I will have to be full of embalming fluid before I'll be content to sit down and listen to Jackson Brown play whatever it is that he plays. I still want full-sensory overload, and I remain faithful to the perfect source - heavy metal.
My fellow fossils and I continue to share the same passion for the music as we always have. The leather jacket may have been sold to buy school supplies for the kids, and the piercings may have closed up in favor of landing a job, but we still have the attitude. Feel free to talk to us the next time you see one of us at a show. Maybe thank us for what we have created. We won't arrest you, in fact, we might just share some of the prune juice that's in our wineskin!
C.J. Cain joined the Forces of Metal as a mere child, when his older brother brought home the first KISS album. Up until then, his collection consisted of "Elton John's Greatest Hits" and "Frampton Comes Alive." (forgive him, for he knew not what he was doing). After having his ears and eyes blown open, he saw that it was good. He also saw that the world could be a much harder place, if only the masses were informed. He organized a protest when his hometown rock station went oldies. He is a survivor of countless concerts and roadtrips. He is here now combining his love of Heavy Metal and writing, espousing all that his hard. Of the comatose suits who dictate what will be popular, he says, "Now the bastards are gonna pay!"