A good friend and I were talking about classic rock radio recently, and wondering how many people in this great country of ours listen to it day after day after day, and still get excited about the finite number of songs on the playlist.

     We considered the type of person who listens to the classic rock station all day long. Maybe it’s somebody employed in a place where it is always necessary to have accessible music playing. Or maybe it’s the guy who runs a maintenance company, working with a crew, who puts it on ZLX because it’s easy enough for the majority of workers to agree on. If it’s not classic, it’s crap, he reasons. We envision this worker pausing in his duty momentarily and tilting his head back, as his eyes light up with the recognition of the opening chords of "Start Me Up." He turns up the boom box, says ‘yeah’ seeking the easily sought approval of his co-workers and they all get back to work with the rock n’ roll warm in their veins.

     But for snobs such as my friend and I the airwaves are stale: the validity has been drained from the raw meaning because these songs have been played so many times on the same station for the past twenty years. Our beloved employee might not recognize this, and though we poke fun of him or her, we are jealous. After a slight laugh we feel guilty about disapproving of that naïve way music is appreciated by those who don’t really appreciate music. Because secretly we long for that innocent iceberg tip sort of understanding. But we’ve listened too much. We’ve researched everything there is to know about each band. We know the B-sides and the rarities, and the stories about what was going on during the recording process of each of the songs. The hits are just the gateway to each artist, and if you only have the Greatest Hits package, you’re an ignoramus.

     I remember having a music conversation with a guy who had moved to America from Puerto Rico in his late twenties. Granted I don’t know that much about his culture’s music, but his take on Western rock n’ roll was enlightening. He must have been fed on a steady diet of easy listening when he moved here, because when I asked him what he thought about the Rolling Stones he said, ‘they’re not bad, not bad,’ and softly sang a line from ‘Almost Hear You Sigh’, the Stones’ late eighties comeback effort.

     "Satisfaction" didn’t even ring a bell with him! I admit that the only musical representation of his region’s music I was familiar with was Menudo, and I couldn’t even hum a single line to any of their songs, but to only know of the Rolling Fucking Stones from that wussy mid-forties Mick song just seemed preposterous!

     I remember how we traded artists back and forth. What I knew of his music, and what he knew of mine. It was fun, and he knew I was snobby about the whole thing, but that I had no idea about what he listened to when not left up to the airwaves.

     The day after criticizing and contemplating the classic rock radio, I was experiencing the claustrophobic comfort of a nice car caught in traffic. I looked in the rearview to make sure my tie was straight. It is proper attire for my current job. And then my monotony was shattered. I was rescued by the selfsame airwaves I had almost lost all faith in. Beeping through the stations I stopped on the voice of a DJ, if it was in fact a real DJ, and not some digitally pre-recorded segway machine, saying, "Aw right, here’s some Zep to get your morning started right."

     His voice ceased and the music began, an observance of the commandment so many stations have lost regard for. THOU SHALT NOT TALK OVER ROCK!

     Then came the fullest crystal acoustic guitar sound I have ever heard (thousands of times before): the pick gliding across each of the perfectly tuned six strings before the 12-string joins in.

     I think of that Soul Coughing song where he says, "I’ve seen the airwaves pull your eyes towards Heh-vunnn."

     ‘Holy shit," I think, ‘I’ve become the laborer!’ and boy did it feel good.

     Everything about "Over the Hills and Far Away" was just fucking perfect today! Every single time I’ve heard that song since I was a little kid I recognized something about it, but never had it felt as releasing as it did now. I have often thought about exactly how psyched Led Zeppelin must have been when they realized they had just committed it to tape, but today it felt like I committed it to tape.

     The chords are so optimistic and simple, and they’re being played by such skilled musicians. It’s just a great thing to know that even if you have the skills to read and write complicated music, you still can enjoy songs that you could have written when you were fifteen.

     Between the words about how much the lady has got the love Robert Plant needs, and when he’s gazing upon the open road (the quest portion of the song), has got to be one of the best kick-ins in rock history. Although the kick-in in "Baba O’Reily" is definitely a contender for that title.

     The acoustic guitar persists throughout the song like a high-flying Pterodactyl, and the melody rides that dinosaur like a fascinated boy in a Saturday afternoon time-machine-themed sci-fi film. And the bass and drums sound like an army of knights marching towards victory. The precision! The layers!

     At the stoplight now, I glance to my right and see a truckload of workers rocking to what has to be the same rhythm I’m rocking to. I see the driver mouth the words, "intesify the things you really oughtta know."

     He sees me rocking along, points to his co-pilots and laughs.

     By this time the song has gotten to that chamber-type part at the end, which I always envisioned as the lead knight being crowned for some reason, and I realize the guys in the truck are laughing at the fact that some dweeb in a shirt and tie is rocking out. I smile up at them, my temples still pulsating from the rock release that had just occurred, and they smile back and nod.

     For a second we have an understanding that rock knows no boundaries for the humans that feel it. The light turns green, I go straight, and they take a left and get to listen to the radio all day.