There is something odd when the work cafeteria has old, I mean very old, hard rock playing at lunchtime. HAIR OF THE DOG, by Nazareth – recorded in 1975 – I bought a cassette tape of the album to play in my brand new Pioneer SuperTuner car stereo in 1978. Forty years rewound in an instant when I heard them. How odd. Once upon a time, LPs (vinyl) and cassette tapes; today: streaming audio from Sirius Satellite and cellphone iHeart or Pandora.
Nobody who looks at me today would ever mistake me for a long-hair rocker. Perhaps I never was. But in the 1980s, there were plenty of clean-cut Sailors and Marines I worked with, possessing security clearances, with responsible jobs, maintaining car payments, raising families, and so on who still held onto Polaroids of their wild days “pre-boot camp”.
Mention hair of the dog to my spouse today and she will think I am talking about the clumps of Comet and Dexter shed on the furniture and floors at home. But today, my longtime pals, forty years on, a little girth-ier, a little balder or gray haired, still will get a glint in their eye and can share a knowing look when Nazareth or Pink Floyd or Marshall Tucker plays over the radio. The new kids don’t go farther back than the most recent dog, Snoop Dogg, if that. Perhaps it is for the best. Playing a little air guitar in the middle of the lunchroom might freak the young ones out.