And for a while it did.
It made perfect sense. Those few careless years still hold some of the fondest memories of pleasures that only became guilty when I attained the almost-adult age of about fourteen. Fate, or the good Lord, if You choose o believe in him, as I have my small doubts, decided to intervene, and presented me with the opi of a small group called Pearl Jam and their predecessors– Sound Garden. Even I, with my almost chaste and still underdeveloped taste in music, began to feel something was blatantly far from right with those simple tunes I found so pleasing. They became simply pleasing. And in a certain way derogatory and insulting to the taste that had agreed with them not so far back. Suddenly, I rediscovered the very sources of my musical identity. The Rolling Stones and the Beatles returned to my Walkman, and the LPs they recorded played continuously on my parents’ adapter. These bands never took away their cool temper, though, as they were the ones who actually introduced me to the classic, timeless and, as I understood it then and they still understand now, innocent music of rock ‘n roll.
