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I was a kid when I saw it at the Horta Velodrome. At first he was cocky, but when he picked up the guitar theriffsthey started spinning around the track and in my head. Since that day I always dreamed of playing a song with him, in one of thosepubsof blacks in Saint Louis, Missouri. But with the life I lead, each year it becomes more complicated: because the coins I earn on the subway are only enough to put something in my mouth. And with the few bills I earn, doing bowling in small clubs, I can hardly pay a pigsty.

I remember it was Saturday March 18 and we had a concert in apubof grace. We had spent the whole afternoon playing guitar and drinking beer in the Plaza del Sol. At eight o'clock theShowand the repertoire was always the same: we started and closed with the same song, that's why my colleagues nicknamed me: Johnny B. Goode.

People danced and the smell of sweat mixed with the vapor of marijuana above the heads that packed the room. we had already touchedBack in the USAand I had to sing my favorite song to end the performance. But between the cloud and bottles of whiskey I saw his face on TV, and I asked the waiter to send me abourbonwith one of theflutedogof the public to believe that I fulfilled my dream.

The syrup went down my throat and I don't know if it was the drug or the alcohol, but I swear it changed my voice and the chords of the solo byJohnny B. Goodethey were the perfect imitation of Chuck Berry. While he played, every once in a while he opened his eyes and emulated his frantic movements, but he preferred to close them to feel that rock'n'roll unbuttoned his shirt and enlarged the tattoo I have of his face on my chest.

At the end, people shouted, applauded and begged us to play another one. But I ignored themJohnny B. Goodeit was the first and the last. So I left the guitar leaning against the Marshall and weaved through people because I couldn't read what was on the screen. When I got to the counter and found out that my father had died, I went back on stage and played until my fingers cried.

Maximiliano Rodriguez Neighbor



I am Johnny B. Goode

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