Rock and roll never forgets

Today we honor the great Chuck Berry, who is turning a young 87.

Chuck wrote the book, literally. His songs are part of the the fabric of our lives, and he taught many, many of the greats how to play the guitar. Keith Richard, to name just one. And you can’t ignore his vastly underrated lyrics – a coffee-colored Cadillac, a car in the guise of a girls’ name who wouldn’t be true, a “coolerator” jammed with frozen dinners and soda pop, a teenage world in which you barely had time for lunch, a German girl from England who was going to school in France that he met in Mississippi at an Alpha Kappa dance.

And the infinite possibilities of being young. His songs spoke of a world filled with promise, the top down on a warm summer night, that one girl standing over by the record machine who just might just say yes, how the perfect song might complete the perfect moment, that having no particular place to go might be the best thing that ever happened.

How America was “The Promised Land.”

Rock and roll.

All of Chuck's children are out there playing his licks

I’ve seen Chuck several times, never in his prime of course. I was too young for the Brooklyn Paramount.

And each time I saw him the show was marred by the journeyman backup band that the promoter had hired for that night. The legend is that Chuck traveled only with his guitar, a toothbrush and a briefcase to hold his pay for that particular gig – cash only, please. The thinking behind the local backup band issue is that everybody knows Chuck Berry’s music, and that it shouldn’t be hard to follow the master.

However, in one of those performances, in San Antonio, Berry stopped the show midpoint to chew out the bass player, who apparently wasn’t keeping up. It was unfortunate and somewhat ugly, and I felt bad for the guy.

But he got to tell his grandchildren he played with Chuck Berry.

I bet it was worth it.