We keep repeating that rock is dead, that it’s a museum piece, that kids these days only care about trap. And every single day, every single day, reality kicks down our door, throwing it in our face that the corpse is more alive than many promising young acts out there. June 2026 is living proof. Or undead proof, whatever.
Stones and Shatner: The Immortality Business
That the Stones are a force of nature, we already know. But to see Mick Jagger, an octogenarian, still dragging crowds and making the planet revolve around his elastic waist… it’s jaw-dropping. NME reports on the persistence of this “old guard” that refuses to go into assisted living. The article even throws William Shatner into the mix, and you gotta wonder: who still has the energy for a mosh pit after seeing Captain Kirk back in the spotlight? The truth is, for these guys, rock became a lifestyle, a trademark. It’s not just music; it’s a legacy. A legacy that, apparently, pays the bills for many, many decades. And screw anyone who thinks pogoing is for the weak.
Phoebe, the Castle, and the Y2K Curse
On the other side of the spectrum, we have Phoebe Bridgers. Not that she’s a newbie, but she’s certainly not in the same 1962 class as the Stones. Loudwire tells us about the turn of the century and the “curse” some predict for rock. A castle, a performance, and the feeling that the genre is always in the eye of a hurricane, trying to reinvent itself or, at least, survive. Phoebe, with her sharp melancholy and soul-shredding lyrics, is an example of how rock adapts, absorbs, and spits back with a new look. Her “rock” isn’t the same as the Stones’, but the attitude, the brutal honesty, and the refusal to be just another pasteurized product—that is pure rock and roll.
Marr vs. Moz: The Fight That Never Ends
Ah, The Smiths. One of the greatest bands of all time and a feud that’s dragged on longer than Big Ben. Metal Hammer details yet another chapter in the Johnny Marr versus Morrissey saga. It’s the typical band beef that never gets resolved, because, deep down, we want it to continue. It’s part of the folklore. The “border” between them is a minefield of grudges and rhetoric. And in the midst of it all, rock proves, once again, that it doesn’t stop. That its narratives are bigger than the songs, bigger than the albums. It’s the personalities, the egos, the disagreements that fuel the legend. And as long as people are arguing about who’s to blame, rock will keep stubbornly pushing forward—even if it’s kicking and screaming.
At the end of the day, we might miss the mosh pit, or complain that the tours are endless. But the truth is, rock, like a fine wine (or a good bar fight), only gets better with time. Or, at least, more interesting. For our luck (or misfortune), it refuses to die. And who are we to complain?