Those last teenage years start with a scream. Alice Cooper's
I'm Eighteen grabbed that age with broad, crashing chords and trails off with a haunting organ solo. I don't know what eighteen-year-old girls felt or feel, but suspect that the milestone is all testosterone-driven. It's something about breaking free.
Breaking free.
Just like Wile E. Coyote running off a cliff.
And then you realize that you're 20. You can't be where you were, on
Sugar Mountain, and you aren't where you're going to be.
You're in mid-air.
Yikes.
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