A few more answers...

A couple weeks back, Rockmocker Central Command asked readers to contribute their own answers to the lyrical questions posed by classic rockers. Submissions have fairly streamed in. Below, a few of our favorites thus far. (Have some answers of your own? Send 'em in and we'll continue this thread in a future post.) 


Two answers for Chicago... (submitted by D.C.)
1. Yes. Not just anybody, but with modern technology, I'm pretty sure that almost everybody really knows what time it is.
2. 25. It's just a guess, but I know what that number is. If 6 to 4 is supposed to be 6 'til 4, then that is one of my least favorite times of the day, because I usually start to get really groggy around 4.

Three answers for the Eagles...(submitted by D.R.)
1. I don't see anything particularly nonsensical about riding fences. Somebody's got to do it, and I got my reasons, as you know.
2. My feet do occasionally get cold in the winter time, yes. Life in the Midwest, what are you gonna do? My trick knee hurts when it rains, too.
3. No, I don't think it's especially funny how the feeling goes away. I find it a little alarming in fact and will seek medical attention if it happens.
(Desperado lyrics here.)
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Thanks D.C. and D.R.! Your Junior Rockmocker badges are in the mail!
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That's it for 2009. Tune in next week for further adventures in mockery and rockery.
One more thing...
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A question for The Hollies...

re: Hey Carrie Anne
When we were at school our games were simple.
I played the janitor, you played a monitor.


What the hell kind of game is that?


Simple games:
1. Checkers
2. Candyland
3. Chutes and Ladders


More complex games:
1. Chess
2. Stratego
3. Janitor/Monitor (A role-playing game wherein a "schoolgirl" who mistakes a randy "maintenance man" for a truant student must chase him down and administer cloakroom discipline of a decidedly non-parochial nature.)


"You're so...so like a woman to me." 
I love that line. So like a woman, and yet....in actual fact, what? A yeti?


Lyrics to Hey Carrie Anne here.
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Ladies and gentlemen, The Hollies!  (1969, post Graham Nash)

A question for Bono...

Rockmocker reader P.N. is confounded by Mr. Paul David Hewson, alias Bono. He writes:

I find it difficult to believe that Bono still hasn't found what he's looking for. The man can save the third world, hug George Bush, snog the Dali Lama, be friends with Steve Jobs, sing at Obama's inauguration, address the UN, fondle Oprah, etc., so why can't he organize himself properly and resolve this perplexing search?

Good point, P.N. By my count, it's been 22 years now that Bono's been looking. I wonder if he's tried behind the couch.

Not out here...

Nope. Not down there...

Thanks anyway, ladies. Not what I'm looking for.

Maybe if I use this telescope...

Thanks for the question, P.N., and good luck with your continued search, Mr. Hewson!

Got a question for Bono or another earnest and important rocker, send it to the rockmocker and we'll pass it along.

A question for Steve Miller...

If you wanted so badly to be with your sweet baby, why didn't you just go directly from Phoenix, Arizona to northern California (about 820 miles to Sonoma County) rather than going via Tacoma, Philadelphia, Atlanta, and L.A. (approx. 7,908 miles)?

So many questions for America...

So, you've spent nine days in the desert, trit-trotting along on your horse, observing the flora, "looking at all the life," as you say. Nine days--and this is your account of what you saw there:

“plants and birds and rocks and things….”

“Things?” Really? Are you three years old?

I guess that kind of descriptive narration should be expected of a guy who can't even think of a name for his goddamn horse.

Also, "the heat was hot and the ground was dry, but the air was full of sound."

Full of sound? Was the sound coming from those "things"?

When the Eagles were in the desert, they could discern the warm smell of colitas rising up through the air (whatever the hell that is)--from a moving car! From you we get, "the air was full of sound."

The question to everyone's answer is usually asked from within.

I drive a lot. Long distances. I enjoy books on tape (really disc, but that doesn't sound right, does it?) The ipod is always at the ready.

But I still can't resist the radio, especially when I'm driving at night. The tuner scans up the FM dial, invariably stopping on one of four formats: country, mexican, jesus, or classic rock--the pillars of FM radio, at least where I drive. The first three don't interest me in the least. I guess I don't speak those languages.

My relationship with classic rock is a complicated one. Maybe an abusive one. I hate it, but I love it. I walk out on it but can't stay away. It bludgeons me with its three chords and batters me with inane lyrics that were probably really never meant to be dwelled upon. But dwell I do. Because what I love most about classic rock and roll are the words. They make me want to ask questions.

That's what this blog is all about--questions, inspired by lyrics, that I'd like to ask history's great rockers.

Got a question you'd like to ask one of the leading lights of the classic rock era? (There's room for discussion, but for now, let's call it the two decades from 1968 to 1988.) Here's your forum. Email me and I'll throw your questions out to the rockosphere. I'll be posting my own queries regularly.

And if you're reading this and your surname happens to be Joel or Cronin or Miller or Perry or Bachman or Turner or Seger or Hagar or Henley or Frey or, God forbid, DeYoung, well, I'd love an occasional answer to these pressing questions.

Rock on.