I am a disgruntled, cranky, increasingly disillusioned rock and roll fan — a man who really wants to believe in the transformative, healing properties of loud, fast music — and as I stare out at today’s pop-musical landscape, I’m filled with despair. I mean, it’s just a vast panorama of shit, from one end to the other. Music targeted at the masses has gotten so awful that it almost literally defies description. (How do you rail against performances that were born and bred inside a machine, as most modern “hits” are today?) “Rock and roll” — at least the kind foisted on the masses by today’s music/multi-media conglomerates — is just as depressing, if for different reasons. “Alternative” is a word that has completely lost all its meaning. And even music that strives to be new, as made by kidz who have never actually heard the old stuff… sounds so much like the old stuff that I find myself retreating further and further into my opium den of ancient, scratchy 45s and — yes, it’s true — 78 RPM  records. I’m becoming a dragon robe-wearing high priest in E. Pluribus Gergley’s church of Nothing New Is Worth a Shit. It’s comforting.

People like me are why Henry Rollins seems to exist. He’s full of righteous indignation about the State Of Rock Things. He’s got punk cred answers where the rest of us struggle to articulate our questions. He makes aging hipsters feel all warm and fuzzy inside, as he rails against the awfulness of “the system” while simultaneously hailing the DIY ethos of the kidz and their basement-party rock politics. He’s our Jimmy Hoffa, our Teddy Roosevelt — our Mussolini. He makes our brain trains run on time, makes us feel good to be Rock Germans again.

The question is:  is he actually an asshole? I’m really not sure. Do I prefer Hank Rollins the art-poet? The game show host? The rock philosopher? Who is Henry Rollins, anyway? Do you like Henry Rollins? I really want to know.

I look forward to your responses,

HVB