When was rock'n'roll born? Who knows? Who cares! At some point it's like holding mirrors in front of mirrors, isn't it? You think you've stumbled across an original, the Killer, for example. Then someone turns you on to Harry "The Hipster" Gibson. You argue with another drunk at the bar about Chuck Berry's invention of sacred rock'n'roll guitar introductions and he drags you out to the car to play you some Carl Hogan licks off of Louis Jordan's records. There may be a beginning back there somewhere but I can't find it.
I'm afraid that I have lived to see the end, however. It's not that sad, not for the kids. They will have something great and good to live for. Something that's theirs. I never was big on nostalgia. Of course the spirit of all of that godliness will be with us forever. I've lived a life for this stuff. As I came of age, I thought it would save the world and maybe it did. Hail, hail rock'n'roll, indeed!