Whatever happened to my rock 'n roll

Cool creds: went to see Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

Uncool creds: was sitting upstairs (but, hey, the sound is way better)

Cool creds: wasn't the oldest person in the room by far

Uncool creds: was one of the few not wearing black

Cool creds: knew all the songs

Uncool creds: when they came on, I clapped my hands and said 'Exciting!' (Why? Why?)

Cool creds: unlike the guy in front of me, I resisted the urge to air guitar

Uncool creds: wanted to hit the skinny bitch dancing and blocking the view of the stage

You get the gist.. I am not exactly cool. Never will be.

Never mind. 90 minutes of tight R 'n R, oscillating between The Velvet Underground and The Stooges. These Baudelaire and Rimbaud wannabes can play their guitars. And since their latest album Beat the Devil's Tattoo hints strongly to their first, B.R.M.C., with The Jesus & Mary Chain-inspired walls of feedback over gospel blues, the tracks jelled perfectly in a continuum of highly enjoyable moody rock. Shame for the old guitar-breaking cliché at the end (Really? Really).

And all of a sudden, it was all forgotten. A distorted basic guitar/base/drums sound can do that to you. It floods your ears and brain, wiping out unwanted memories, The Man's car crash (wish I didn't see the car), my coping mechanisms (anger.. not good.. sorry), inextricable complications, lack of reasons..
And become a teenager again: I fell in love with a sweet sensation, I gave my heart to a simple chord, I gave my soul to a new religion, whatever happened to my R 'n R.