JEFF BECK: Convalescence (Or Growing Up?)
Even Beck's cat thinks the house is a pig-sty.
Though many of his fans would no doubt love to hear the words pronounced, Jeff Beck is not God. And though many of his past associates, promoters and quite a few music writers would love to read that he is indeed the arrogant asshole that they call him, the fact is that anyone who's come into contact with the lanky, legendary English guitarist of late has probably become a bit amazed that he isn't one iota like the stories people are spreading about. He still isn't the most outwardly congenial gentleman on the planet* but...
Anyway, travelling with Beck for a few stops on his recent U.S. tour allowed anyone with an open mind the opportunity to view a veteran rock star who's been able to see past all the peripheral hoopla on the scene and is now struggling with the very basic questions of who he is, what he's doing, and where he's going. Those are questions most folks normally tackle when they're leaving school and entering the so-called "real world," but as Beck and any number of other scenemakers will admit, the rock world is one of the easiest places to duck the responsibilities of aging.
