So I go into the local semigrocerystore to collect on a sixpack and some cheese for my evening alone (‘tis an arrangement with the girlfriend. I get midweeks off, as does she, from each other, alternating months, so I’m in my own place), and this establishment is Harlem-nuanced Hispanic and the usual music is that fast-rhythm’ed trumpet- centric stuff, you know? Not tonight. Serious kickass caterwaulin’ and some rather stimulating riffs on the old guitar and ka-bam ka-bam ka-bamWHAP and damn if I aint’ dancin’ in the aisles and I’m WANTING THIS ALBUM and the vocals are in Spanish! {No, sorry, I was unable to get artist name or even station}
Quick Clue: vocalist is male. It ain’t Julieta Venegas. I’m already hip to Julieta. Oh yeah and then some. Julieta rock me. But this is someone else. This, whoever it is, and getting played on the radio station to which the foodmarket radio is attuned, following up on the Julieta thingie, is making me wonder, with serious anticipations:
has hard rock found a new ground in which to germinate and flower?