Even though they say that soon we'll all be marching to a different drum, for all we care they can go and whistle Dixie. Let the bandwagons roll by, let them blow their own trumpets as loud and as long as they like, because whoever ends up taking the lead, and whoever plays second fiddle, they'll still be out of time, out of tune and out of step.
Let's take it from the top. The theory goes that whoever pays the piper calls the tune, but that's all whistling in the dark now, because the band plays on, like it or not. Never mind that they've lost the beat and haven't struck a chord with the public since who knows when.
They know the score, they know things are hardly harmonious, but they can extemporise or play it by ear. They can jazz it up and if they hit a bum note, they soft-pedal for a while, play a slower number maybe, and they're sharp enough not to make a song and dance about it. They might admit to a little discord now and then, but the show goes on.
A change would be music to our ears, but they're stuck in the one groove and can't change their tune, strumming on a tired old riff and bang- ing out the three-chord trick. It's enough to give you the blues.
Without wishing to strike a sour note, here we have a tone-deaf John doing his one-note samba while his namesake hums the theme from Shaft, and after a while Miguel's fandangos are as hard on the feet as Tarzan's jungle music.
So strike up the band and let them sing for their supper. Let them make their overtu- res and we'll see if they can drum up any support. But however it turns out, someone will say it's only rock'n'roll, another will blame it on the boogie and all that jazz. One thing's certain, though, not one of them will stand and face the music.Reuse content