shine a light

matthew hembree, a muso whose love of music is _epic_ rather than _lyrical_ (in the sense that milan kundera defined two different styles of womanizing in the unbearable lightness of being), just saw and enjoyed martin scorsese's new rolling stones documentary. while "mick 'n' the boys" (to give them the name that loathesome clear channel dj's seem to like to use) embody everything i find dispensable about rawk-as-spectacle (having seen keef 'n' woody at tarrant county on the new barbarians tour -- when i swear to gawd keef tossed his cups onstage _while singing_ -- and the stones themselves in the piss-pouring rain at the cotton bowl on the tattoo you tour), and sir mick himself everything i find pointless about rockstars-as-celebrities, in the fullness of time, keef has attained the stature of a figure like chuck berry or b.b. king, whose music ceased to be relevant long ago but the mere fact of whose _survival_ is noteworthy. still, i can prolly do without 50-foot-high ronnie woods.