I don't know why

Having grown up in a blue collar suburban neighborhood in the early-to-mid 1980's, my pre-adolescence was strongly touched by the cheesetacular power of pop metal in its pre-glam (or, as I've come to call it, "ugly metal") incarnation. I perfected my air guitar skills. I scribbled poor reproductions of band logos in ballpoint on my book covers. I flipped through second-hand copies of Circus and Hit Parader, marveling at the full-page photos, lame efforts at mythmaking, and especially all the cool rocker gear being hawked in the backpage ads.

That was my life, that was my song. I paid no heed to the warnings that metal health will drive one mad, because -- day in, day out, all week long -- things just went better with rock.

Looking back on those times, I feel neither the rosy glow of nostalgia nor the rosy cheeks of embarrassment. It was what it was, a childhood phase shared with many other lads (and lasses) in my socio-economic demographic which I later dumped in favor of 60's soul music. Maybe it would have been cooler if I had discovered punk rock five years earlier instead, but you can't fault an eleven year old for grasping the low-hanging subcultural fruit, especially when it perfectly captured the stuff quasi-pubescent boys' dreams are made of.

All the above is just my long-winded way of explaining why I felt a touch of sadness upon discovering that Quiet Riot frontman Kevin DuBrow passed away at his Las Vegas home last Sunday.

Quiet Riot - Cum on Feel the Noize (from Metal Health, 1983) - I just wish they kept the opening "Baby, baby, BAY-BEH!" from Slade's original version...