There are bands that are hit machines, bands that earn the respect of the music crowds, bands that fill stadiums, bands that drip sex; transcendent bands and ephemeral boy bands and girl bands, gimmick bands and inept bands, beach and driving bands, summer and winter bands, bands to make love by and bands that make you memorize the words to every song they play. Most bands are awful, and if there are aliens from other galaxies monitoring our radio and tv waves, they’re probably being driven crazy by the din, And to the whole half-century-long history of rock music there is a small number of bands, a number so small you could count to it without running out of fingers, who steal into your heart and become a part of how you see the world, how you tell and understand the truth, even when you’re old and deaf and foolish.
Salman Rushdie, “The Ground Beneath Her Feet”, 1999
A Bird's Eye View of Fashion, Food, Travel, Culture, Beverage and Curiosity 