Dad Rock Blog
It started, as so many of these things do, with encroaching middle age. The mid-life crisis loomed large in the near future and the middle-age spread loomed even larger over the waistband of my pants. Farrah slacks and driving gloves were starting to seem like a good idea….
It wasn’t always thus however. In the prime of my youth I harboured dreams of being Iron Maiden’s next guitarist but, as I didn’t want to oust Dave and worshipped the very earth Adrian walked on, I was a little hazy on the finer details. My every waking moment outside of school and college was spend listening to records (for the under 30s- google vinyl LPs, you’ll be amazed). I dressed to conform with my status- black jeans so tight it’s a miracle I have kids; black leather biker jacket despite only having a Raleigh Winner (5-speed); band t-shirts featuring various zombies, skulls and occult symbols; long hair and so many bangles and bracelets my wrists are still tinged green…. you get the picture.
And I loved every minute of it, every waking second. Frequenting a pub on Dublin’s southside called Bruxelles (still there and still very cool, but probably much cleaner); the jukebox belting out Zeppelin, Maiden, Alice Cooper, Hendrix, Bon Jovi, Dio, Skynyrd, Sabbath. Girls in spandex and leather, Poison and hairspray. Southie and Red in one hand and Kerrang/Metal Hammer in the other. Marvelling at the massive queue for the girls toilets on the way to banging your head on the low ceiling in the men’s. The sounds, the smells, the inevitable vomit- I wouldn’t change a thing.
That’s what Dad Rock is all about for me. Once it dawned on me that Steve Harris wasn’t going to call and I was never going to feature on the jukebox playlist, I figured the next best thing would be to occasionally put my unfocussed, nostalgic ramblings into a blog. Dad Rock is pure classic rock, no frills, no apologies. I’m writing for my own pleasure but hopefully, you’ll get some enjoyment on the journey with me (oh yeah, Journey! First time around mind…)