Once I had a pretty girl.
Her name it doesn’t matter.
She went away with another guy.
Now, he won’t even look at her.
–Charles Westover writing as Del Shannon, 1962
It’s a complete story, as complete as any novel. There’s an introduction … then a first verse … a middle eight … a second verse … an instrumental, and, finally, a repeat of the second verse, and fade to the end. The entire journey takes exactly two minutes.
Here’s a summary of the story: There’s a man, not exactly a man, but a male of the species who has reached, only recently, sexual maturity, as evidenced by the fact that he is attracted to a female of the species. She is a “pretty” girl, not a fully sexual woman. This is a type commonly referred to as a “girl next door.”
We become aware of the passage of time. This aforementioned female of the species did not just show up. She’s not a recent transplant. She’s evolved. She, too, has recently passed from childhood into the world of reproduction. By implication, she’s farther along in the developmental process than the narrator, having reached a point where she is discriminating amongst available partners, settling on one named “Larry.”
The narrator refers to Larry as “another guy,” more of an equal than a superior. This is depicted by the use of a familiar first name, even using the more familiar, child-like tag rather than the more formal “Lawrence” or “Laurence” that would be appropriate in a different medium.
The girl, the pretty one, the one who lives next door who has captured the affection of the narrator, proves to be a lying, pernicious, scumbag of a bitch when she takes advantage of the trusting naivete of the narrator by abandoning him and, it is suggested, her adjacent domicile. Even worse, she avails herself to the new suitor for the purposes of reproduction, or even non-reproductive sexual pleasure. There’s no evidence of her motivation, nor are details of their union provided, other than the fact that once the mating procedure has occurred, the male partner loses his interest. The union, apparently, not based on deeper emotions of trust, compatibility, and common vision, but rather a more immediate satisfaction of horndog desires.
The post-coital reaction is telling. This is not the loving, nurturing reaction of mature individuals who have committed to the procreation not simply for the replication and recombination of their genes, but the future of the species. It is, rather, the casual, recreational sexual play characteristic of juvenile Homo sapiens. In the aftermath of the girding of his loins, the male is motivated not to repeat the experience, but, presumably, to seek a different sexual partner. Without explanation, he rejects his recent partner in favor of the uncertain future liaison with a different member of the species. The female is now partnerless and without prospects.
Significantly, the story is told in the past tense. Despite the passage of time, the pain from the wound is still fresh for the narrator. Rather than resenting his former rival, he now congratulates him for inflicting the same intense pain that he experienced. The bond between male members of the tribe is, thus, stronger and more nuanced than those of heterosexual couples. One almost senses the narrator’s bond with fellow warrior, Larry, is more lasting than the transitory relief of the loins provided by the female of the species.
Rock and roll, in its perfect expression, is the distillation of the human condition, with a special focus on the fluctuating influences of hormones and cultural mores within a specific period of time. The protagonists, Del and Gregor, are two-dimensional males … “guys” … who meet and bond at a critical conjuncture of American culture in the 1960s. They witness first-hand the impact of the cultural British Invasion at a time when America is in the throes of a post-Colonial debacle in Southeast Asia.
Like so many other late adolescent males, the form a bond, and they form a band. Theirs, named Grendel, is a co-mingling of their first names and becomes a canvas that permits the creation of the mural that becomes their lives. Their story, leavened by time, encompasses relationships, changing cultural values, and the idiosyncracies of individual species members. On one level their story, Old Rockers: The Musical Journey of Grendel, is the simple tale of two guys, not unlike our narrator and Larry. On a different level, and on a larger stage, however, their story is of generation, art, culture, and species. It’s a story that resonates nation- if not world-wide, and the two “guys” become symbols much larger than their realities.
Through no merit or actions of their own they find themselves thrust upon a global stage where every follicle of their being is subject to scrutiny. And, like every other Tom, Dick, and Asshole in today’s world they try to make sense off their fate through the examination of their own navels. Their lens is no longer exclusively music, but has broadened to include language and technology. They tell the same story over and over, old guys with dementia. They tell it through music, they tell it in print, they tell it through an eight episode, limited series on Netflix, they tell it on the Broadway stage, they tell it on social media platforms from Snapchat to TikTok, they tell it in 30 second and 60 second slots to sell everything from hemorrhoid creme to shares in assisted living developments, they tell it in a documentary for theatrical release.
And they tell it in their podcast, called, unsurprisingly, The Old Rockers Podcast. This is the transcript of that podcast.
Hats off to Larry
He broke your heart now it’s your
Turn to cry cry cry