Raging With The Machine

“Anybody wants to get mellow, you can turn around and get the f-ck outta here!”

To be fair, Ted Nugent could have said nothing after that. My 15-year-old self had already been won over by his blistering, testosterone-soaked introduction of “The Big Bang Theory.”Wang Dang Sweet Poontang.”

Nugent’s “Double Live Gonzo” This 1978 album was loaded with these morsels. As a teenager, such ebullitions reinforced the insubordinate rock ‘n’ roll creed to which I’d long since committed: Think for yourself, go against the grain, and, most important, Make your parents nervous.

That last bit of information is only important if your people actually use it. cared What were you putting into your 8-track or on your turntable?

My alcohol-addled, perpetually-on-the-verge-of-divorce parents were far too checked out to worry about my grades or where I was, let alone my music, so I was forced to look to other authoritarians for credible condemnation: teachers, politicians, police. You know — The Man.

Truth be told, The Man was the best rebel fodder. Most Teens of that time were not as fortunate. Even though many of our parents were good people, there was no redeeming quality in them. In 1979, with record unemployment and inflation, and America’s international position in the toilet at the bottom, almost every aspect American life had been so badly screwed-up that news anchors would routinely refer to it. “misery index” It is used as a gauge of the country.

In truth, the decade of mood rings, bell bottoms, and mood rings was over. But, one thing was certain: The people who run it are complete asshats. Are they distracted by songs like “Yank Me, Crank Me“?  That was a great reason to be a Nugent fan — in retrospect, maybe the best one.

The Carter years’ malaise had been replaced by the Reagan era’s tough strutting in the 1980s. Although times may have changed, the subversive spirit that drove rock and roll was still there. Just as The Man was getting comfortable with acts such as Nugent, a new generation of musicians was coming in to play for the children. The Ramones’ raw, back-to basics assault in New York in late 1970s had ignited a rebellion in America’s teens that was not seen since 1950.

It arrived in California in early 1980s and bands like Fear and The Circle Jerks were ready to make your parents snore over what you were doing. Year after glorious year it was there, the perfect, unstoppable middle fingers to everything. Supposed to do.

The best part was that every subsequent incarnation rock and roll seemed determined to up the ante. Although the establishment may have been furious that Elvis merged hillbilly music and rhythm and blues, it was a minor scandal. convulsing Heavy metal was once inbreeding with punk. The sound