BEFORE THE RIOT WAS QUITE, THE METAL WAS GLITTER
And there arose from the stage such a thumping and a pounding that our eardrums were sore afeared: the clash of cymbals in the neon-lit night, the steady cascade of drum rolls that posed the unfathomable question. “Dave Clark isn’t still on the road, is he?”
BEFORE THE RIOT WAS QUITE, THE METAL WAS GLITTER
FEATURES
Toby Goldstein
And there arose from the stage such a thumping and a pounding that our eardrums were sore afeared: the clash of cymbals in the neon-lit night, the steady cascade of drum rolls that posed the unfathomable question. “Dave Clark isn’t still on the road, is he?” But our attention was soon diverted to the shine of satin clothing, woven in a million colors that nature knew nothing about. Shimmery jackets and vests, topping wildly flapping flared trousers, or, in later years, knobby knee-revealing skin-thins of black spandex. Cascades of long hair were teased, cut, sprayed or curled in elaborate patterns. And, rising high to meet the stacks of Marshalls halfway, were the platform shoes or boots— silver, white, black, red, with stars or dragons emblazoned up the sides.