Music, man

It’s a music issue. We didn’t set out to have a music issue, but with the stories about Rain, goth music and the West Side Story review, it is what it is, and I like it. I hope you do, too.

Isn’t it weird how the heat brings out the wildness in people? Combine high heat with late spring, and I’m surprised all the Truckee Meadows babies aren’t born in February. I think this fundamental drive, this desire to rock ’n’ roll when the temperature climbs is somehow related to that wildness. Seems like as soon as the evening news starts filling up with reports of road rage in the bigger cities and body counts in the Southeast rurals, the concert calendar fills up, and almost every stage in town radiates music.

Does the summer beat infect you? With me, it’s images of sweat-dotted suntanny people in brief attire grinding pelvises and gifting me with their beauty and evoking memories of Southern evenings languishing in humidity so thick it’s like my lungs are filled with liquid. It seems too many people must drink too much whiskey when the thunderheads gallop in from all directions, and the wind turns cool.

Rain may be fluid, but it’s not the liquid kinds of dreams I’m talking about. Rain seems more like an air-conditioned casino showroom kind of solution. I’ve got to admit, the band surprised me, or at least the reaction of my writer and photographer surprised me. Both went in cynics and came out believers.

I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve never owned a Beatles album, eight-track, cassette or CD. I did once own a 45-rpm “Hey Jude,” but I played it so much that my older brother pounded a 16-penny nail through it. It seems these guys are something more than a cover band with costumes. Bring on the Rain.