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The L Word and the F Bomb
This election stands at a crossroads that is both cultural and political.
Teenage rebellion is what it is and probably always has been. I may be ancient now, but my coming of age involved sideburns, leather jackets, and switchblade knives in the world of fashion and endless conflicts with our elders in the world of art.
I found it hilarious that my elders thought “rock ‘n roll” was a “Negro” slang description for the sex act, an act the music would cause, albeit with the lights out and in the missionary position. “Race music” invaded from Mexico, pushed by monster AM transmitters far outside broadcasting regulations in the U.S. On the other end of the technology, there were tiny radio stations across the South, one horse radio for one horse towns, about which the white Baptist preachers would warn of Satan’s arrival in a minor key with a strong back beat.
When, as an adult, I studied the history of rock, I learned that the origin of the term was indeed about sex. Elvis Presley, when he covered black tunes, cleaned them up for white folks but also recorded the original versions for the vault that gets opened now and then for his eponymous channel on satellite radio. To my knowledge, Pat Boone stayed with the cover versions and if he ever sang “tutti frutti — good booty” the master remains well hidden.
