THE ROCKETS NO RUNS, ONE HIT, NO BALLADS
I've fallen asleep and I'm dreaming. Through some inexplicable turn of events, I'm working in the promo department of RSO Records. Evidently no one bothered to check my credentials before they hired me. I'm sitting at my spacious, modern desk, the kind you get when you work in the record industry.
THE ROCKETS NO RUNS, ONE HIT, NO BALLADS
FEATURES
J. Kordosh
by
I've fallen asleep and I'm dreaming. Through some inexplicable turn of events, I'm working in the promo department of RSO Records. Evidently no one bothered to check my credentials before they hired me. I'm sitting at my spacious, modern desk, the kind you get when you work in the record industry. I'm fiddling with a paperweight; it's a ten-milligram Valium embedded in clear acrylic. It seems that I'm working up a biography for one of our hottest acts, the Rockets:
Coming out of Detroit, the Rockets have managed to capture the essence of their streetwise, factory wise backgrounds on vinyl, making them logical successors to the Beatles as the unquestioned leaders of pop culture. Their three albums, Love Transfusion, Rockets, and No Ballads have all gone octuple platinum. Singing straight from their street-scarred souls, the Rockets captured the imagination of Detroiters early on...
I’m interrupted by the boss, who’s been reading over my shoulder. “What kind of shit is this?!” he yells. “That first record wasn’t even on RSO! We can’t release shit like this! What do you think you get paid to do, make things up?!”