y son had not yet been baptized, and plagues had already spread through basements and garages, each with its own personality. They distorted the blues, twisted rock n' roll. In common, they were devoted to heavy music. There was no whining. Well, when there was some whining, resulted in nice ballads - in my golden times, known as slow jam – that softened even a tough guy like me. They exaggerated the visuals, the instruments, the scenarios. They seemed and behaved like entities (I had to control myself for not saying demigods), imagining themselves as if they were immortals. The sturdiest pass on through generations and became references to the hard rock school.