Well it did, because there wasn\u2019t any other way of doing it. \u00a0People like Frank Sinatra never sang a darned thing they\u2019d ever written because that\u2019s not what they did and so far as I can guess, Elvis and Suzi Quatro didn\u2019t either.\u00a0Suzi Quattro<\/a>. I mean, what? As someone who is a little over 21, each time I see this I can\u2019t believe I saw this. It wasn\u2019t just the obvious bra-less ness, (like OMG) or even the leather jumpsuit, or the huge hairy blokes she surrounded herself with (and apparently it was the drummer, I seem to remember, if I got that right). It wasn\u2019t just the fact that back in \u201973 this stuff went out on air live at 7:30 on a Thursday on Top of the Pops.<\/p>\n That’s right morality crusaders. Ever wondered why youth\u00a0street crime went up? Back in the day you could leave your back door unlocked, if you’ll pardon the expression, because every malenky\u00a0nadsat droog was safe at home trying to memorise every stitch in the \u00a0seams in the lingering crotch shots the BBC thought appropriate before the watershed. And there were quite a few.<\/p>\n Were they strange times? I don’t know. Like any time, we all thought it was normal, even when we heard stuff like Sparks<\/a>\u00a0singing some of the saddest songs I’ve ever heard. It wasn’t just the bloke who played the keyboards and looked a bit like Hitler, or his androgynous brother (how weird was that, man? as we said back then). It was the whole, you know. Thing. We were fourteen or something. Why did we have to deal with stuff like this? I mean, it wasn’t 1918, except for the Souix.<\/p>\n But then, why did we buy it? \u00a0Because we did. We all bought hugely into the whole sad song laments of Americans dragging thirty (how old? Nobody’s THAT old, man) not least because back before the whole interwebby thing and Wikipedia it wasn’t easy to find out that Ian Hunter <\/a>was born in 1939.<\/p>\n I’m sorry, I still need to pause to let the horror of that statement go away a bit. “I got out my six string razor and hit the sky.” As we said back then, what does that even mean? Did we ever listen to the words when we heard bands like Eagles, singing coked-out dead-end laments like Desperado and Hotel California? How did that resonate with someone less than half their age, living 5,000 miles away on an estate in Trowbridge? Because it did.<\/p>\n Probably it meant just the same as it means now. The words change but the feeling doesn’t. Someone said to me yesterday, “you’re good with words when you speak. But when you write it down it’s shit. Sorry.” And sometimes, she’s right. I can’t catch that feeling, the way the music made us feel, the way it probably makes younger people feel now. Same things, different words. The same feeling, just a different way of saying it. I thought that as we sat on our bar stools as the music played. This hasn’t changed in three decades, for either of us.<\/p>\n![\"Suzi](\"http:\/\/writer-insighter.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/10\/sq-300x194.jpg\")
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