We made it. Despite everything, we have managed to endure eleven long, tedious months. I’ll be honest and say, at times, I wondered whether we’d ever finally get here. But we have. Thank goodness. For I have long believed that there are eleven months of the year that do little more than take up space on the calendar. When all is said and done, there’s only one month that truly matters. You can keep February. I care little for May and July and can take or leave March and June. They are trivial, meaningless months. The only month that is truly indispensible is Rocktober.
We made it. Despite everything, we have managed to endure eleven long, tedious months. I’ll be honest and say, at times, I wondered whether we’d ever finally get here. But we have. Thank goodness. For I have long believed that there are eleven months of the year that do little more than take up space on the calendar. When all is said and done, there’s only one month that truly matters. You can keep February. I care little for May and July and can take or leave March and June. They are trivial, meaningless months. The only month that is truly indispensible is Rocktober.
Not everybody appreciates ‘Rocktober’. In fact, there are some folks who still insist on calling it by its former Gregorian calendar name of ‘October’. These resisters probably still use Imperial currency and ride a horse to work too. Such backward-looking zipper dodgers might be able to raise a barn in a day, but they know precious little about rock and roll. It’s their loss. For the rest of us, Rocktober heralds thirty-one glorious days in which ordinary folk are entitled to live out their rock star fantasies in all their glory.
For starters, I intend to wear leather trousers pretty much continuously. This may raise a few eyebrows at work and will likely result in some serious chafing issues when I go jogging, but that’s the kind of sacrifice the rock lifestyle demands. I will wear them even though pants made of leather best suit a person of a certain physical type. It’s a cold, hard reality that leather trousers should only be worn by someone who is either very slender or who is a cow. But if you’re not a bovine, then you definitely need to be quite thin. Rock stars who wear leather are often described as ‘snake-hipped’. Sadly, I could only claim to be ‘snake hipped’ if the snake in question was a python and it had just swallowed a heifer. But I won’t let that hold me back. This month, the ordinary rules can be thrown out the window.
But there’s more to Rocktober than wearing leather. This month, I will not answer the telephone with a mere ‘hello’, but with a hearty ‘check one, two – testing, testing.’ More than that, every time I have a meeting, I’ll begin by trying to get the participants to clap in unison. Once the meeting is adjourned, I shall return after a minute or two for an encore. Even if everybody else has left the room, I’ll still come back, talk for another ten minutes before standing up, tipping over a chair, raising my fist and leaving again.
For this month and this month alone, I do not have shopping lists. Instead, I have riders. Granted, my needs are modest. My rider will consist of milk, bread and orange juice as well as more traditional demands such as the removal all the brown M&M’s and a fur-lined sink. I will wear sunglasses at all hours, even to the movies and each time I sign my name – whether on a cheque or a passport application – I’ll include the words, ‘Thanks for listening – keep on rocking’ before my signature.
But Rocktober isn’t just about personal indulgence. It’s also a chance to make the world a better place. Disputes and grievances will not be settled by way of an address to the United Nations or by acts of war. Instead, world leaders will be required to resolve their differences by way of dueling guitar solos. Who wouldn’t support our bid for a non-permanent seat on the Security Council if, instead of boring everyone rigid with some turgid speech, our representatives produced a Stratocaster, planted a foot on the fold-back monitor and cut loose with an almighty solo? Luxembourg, as splendid as I’m sure it is, is not a rock and roll nation. Try naming one decent rock musician from Luxembourg. Exactly. (If you answered ‘Serge Tonnar and the Legotrip’ I’d have to say, technically speaking, he’s more a folk artist. Sorry.) It is no accident that the third country vying for United Nations glory knows a thing or two about kicking out the jams. Finland is a very rock and roll nation. Without doubt, they’ve planned their campaign with Rocktober firmly in mind. I’ll simply say that we ignore them at our peril. It would be a shame to lose out on such a prestigious gig simply because our competitors were willing to break out a double kick drum and we weren’t.
Enjoy this month while it lasts. And even if I am well past my rock and roll prime – as any one who has seen me try to board a tram in my leather trousers will surely attest – it’s not too late for me. This month I will start a band. It will be loud and it will be guitar driven. Perhaps I’ll use AC/DC as my template. Better still, maybe I’ll form my own AC/DC tribute band. The only problem is that some of their lyrics are a little smutty. It might be unbecoming. But, then again, this is a month where anything is possible. I could easily tidy up the words to make them more politically correct or, if you prefer, ‘PC’. In fact, I think I’ll call my band ‘PC/DC’. ‘Whole Lotta Rosie’ will now be ‘Real and Healthy Sized Rosie’. ‘Highway to Hell’ will be recast as an ode to physical fitness and re-christened ‘Highway to Health’. It will be fantastic. Now excuse me while I turn my amplifier to eleven and plug in the Les Paul. It’s time for some rocking. Happy Rocktober to you all.