It’s official: I’m an old fogey

I will admit: As a teenager I was emotionally moved by the lyrics of Little Richard’s Tutti Frutti. "A whop bop-a-lu whop, a wop bam boo." It doesn’t get much better than that and I never could understand why my father insisted that wasn’t "real" music. I promised myself, I would never criticize the younger generation’s music when I got older. I would never become an old fogey.

All that changed yesterday when I ran across a CD called Leprosy by a band called Death that contained such songs as Born Dead, Left to Die, Pull the Plug, Open Casket, Choke On It and, of course, the title tune, all "sung" by someone who sounds like he’s trying to clear his congested throat against the backdrop of a guitarist who knows probably two or three chords and a drummer who seems to be thinking "If I can do this junk as fast as I can, maybe I can get out of here and escape this madness."

I guess this makes me an official member of the Old Fogey Society. If so, I welcome the membership.