Idols. I wonder how my parents' generation felt when their idols begun to disappear. Freddie, Curt, Jimmy. They are an indispensable part of your youth, no matter who they are (poets, actors, directors, musicians)...As for music idols, sooner or later my idols will start getting old too, selling their souls to the musical corporate machine. I can picture myself sitting in a car one day waiting for the traffic lights. Radio is on, flooded with new rhythms and new hymns. And suddenly, the 2000-2010 “Oldies” program plays a track that brings me back 20-30 years ago. Squeezing the steering wheel, I would drown in memories of sticky concert halls, beers in the park, the festival rush and the friends I sang along with. And there would be that sparkle in my eye – of sadness and joy, of longing and desire to be back there. That same sparkle I see every time in my father's eye when he hears Queen, Guns & Roses, The Doors and The Beatles. He goes back where I stand now. The youth, the self-destructiveness, the careless, mocking way in which we are obedient to the rules. This young lad on the pictures is a reflection of this youth and as all those idols he follows the same pattern. He is our poet, our drug-addict, our “bad boy” whose art will be smashed by fame and music labels. Pete, hope you have enough safety pins!
"Cornered the boy, kicked out at the world
the world kicked back a lot F**king harder now"
("Can't Stand Me Now", The Libertines)
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