The fiery killer

X on the fan  

One of our stated goals in establishing the band was the insight that we would soon have sex and lots of it.

There are a certain type of girls who are passionate about everything about rock band. Some are graphic for everything, some that line up with the band everywhere and become an integral part of the group that is embroidered around it, and some are just as enthralled while performing and appearing immediately after the encore in the dressing room to fulfill their role.

According to the informal statistics of the rock world, the drummer wins the most girls. The vocalist is next in line, followed by the guitarist, then the bassist, and at the end, the keyboard shuffles. No one has really looked at this data, but this is how it is drawn from all the published articles and biographies.

So this is where the guitarist came out. At least as long as it was Johnny X.

Johnny, as mentioned, was a few years older than us. He was already twenty-something, he had long, plump hair, most of the time his face covered in bristles, his arm adorned a tattoo of a devil in the form of a naked female, his lip an impossible blend of English and Hebrew. He was thrown in his attire and a lot of sex-elephant stomped away. Girls were attracted to him like bees to the float. And he certainly allowed them to pump.

The girls flooded him with no effort on his part. Usually they were young, pretty, skinny, a little throbbing. A good home girl who longed to unload a burden. He was able to have a brief encounter with one before the show, disappear with the other as soon as he got off the stage (and leave us to fold the gear alone, including his gear), emerge after two hours in the company of a third girl, and go to sleep in the fourth's house, only to find himself waking up In the morning with her mother. He was a sex addict.

AIDS was not yet threatened by the world, and Johnny celebrated as if the sixties were still underway, even though we were already in their late seventies - 1976/7. The tiny glory we were ashamed of had completely taken him off the rails. He wanted to live a glamorous rock 'n' roll life, not realizing that he was in a small, problematic country in the garbage can of the Middle East.

Haifa was then a cultural wasteland. Almost nothing happened to her. Epic Netzer Choir was the hottest thing in town. Moshe Datz was far from a deadly rocker, and volunteered in hospitals and such. Here and there we practiced all kinds of nameless and useless vehicles in homes and shelters. Grazing culture passed us by.

We continued our rehearsals mainly in my house, to the dismay of the parents. Every repetition was accompanied by excitement and enthusiasm. The joy of creation, the so-called. But that joy was turned off again and again because of Johnny's taps. He didn't even try to lie or look for excuses. Told the naked truth: "Sorry I didn't come, but I met someone amazing."