There are bands that are hit machines, bands that earn the respect of the
music crowd, bands that fill stadiums, bands that drip sex; transcendent
bands and ephemeral, boy bands and girl bands, gimmick bands and inept bands,
beach and driving bands, summer and winter bands, bands to make love by and
bands that make you memorize the words to every song they play. Most bands
are awful, and if there are aliens from other galaxies monitoring our radio
and tv waves, they're probably being driven to crazy by the din. And in the
whole half-century-long history of rock music there is a small number of
bands, a number so small you could count to it without running out of
fingers, who steal into your heart and become a part of how you see the
world, how you tell and understand the truth, even when your old and deaf and
foolish. On your deathbed you'll hear them sing to you as you drift down the
tunnel towards the light: Shh... Sha-sha...
Sha-la-la-la-la...Shang-a-lang, shang-a-lang
shang-a-lang...Sh-boom...Shoop...Shoop...Shh. It's all over now.
~ The Ground Beneath Her Feet by Salman Rusdie~
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