Read Never Say Never for Free Online Page A

together. Music has long been a medium
that brings individuals and societies together – it allows them to affirm their
shared identity, or else – as we shall see in this semester's class – to
subvert it entirely. Its power has been called spiritual – it has also been
called dangerous. In the remote mountains of Svaneti, some tribes use music to
hold onto a religious and cultural identity all but lost. On the streets of New
York City and Los Angeles, some “tribes” used it to create their own
identities. Perhaps some of you are wondering what an old fuddy-duddy like me
has to say about Keith Knight or David Bowie...”
                A
few members of the class laughed along with his joke, but I flushed bright red. Why did they always have to bring up my dad?
                “But
this year I will be complementing my traditional ethnographic methods with what
one might call a more youthful approach. As many of you know, it is
customary within the department to teach alongside qualified teaching
assistants – graduate students in our department who wish to gain experience of
the classroom before seeking full-time teaching positions. Well, it is my great
honor to introduce to you your TA and one of my very brightest research
students, who is studying for a doctorate in the comparative imagery of gender
in late nineteenth-century ‘decadent’ fiction and in the ‘glam rock’ of the
1970's. I would like to introduce you all to Danny Blue. Danny, would you stand
up please?”
                My
mouth fell open. The tall young man in the skin-tight black jeans and the black
t-shirt couldn't have looked less like the typical graduate students. With his
long jet-black hair that fell down to his shoulders, his piercing blue eyes,
his chiseled Roman nose, high cheekbones, Danny Blue looked more like a rock
star than a music scholar. As he sauntered up to the podium, his long ebony
hair shining under the fluorescent lights of the classroom, I felt my heart
skip a beat. He radiated sex appeal – the kind of raw animal magnetism that my
father had always just called “it.” That thing that rock stars either had – or
never would have. That thing that separated the wannabes from the truly greats.
And Danny Blue, sporting a leather jacket and what looked like the tiniest hint
of eyeliner on his gorgeous, sky-colored eyes, had it.
                I
felt my face flush hot and red, embarrassment making the color brighter still.
What was happening to me? I'd managed to pass my teen years without even the
slightest hint of a crush on anybody – utterly uninterested in sex or romance.
I'd had my hands full with work and the band – and between my dad's stories of
groupies “back in the day” and the greasy wannabes in the club scene who used
to hit on me just because I was Keith Knight's daughter and could probably get
them a record deal, I'd basically been turned off to the idea of romance
altogether. But somehow sitting in a desk in front of Danny Blue made me really
regret wearing this sweaty USC shirt – a regret and self-consciousness utterly
unlike anything I'd ever felt before.
                “Thank
you so much for that very kind introduction, Professor.”
                And
that accent! Clipped, clear, and with just a slightest hint of Northern vowels,
Danny Blue's English accent sent shivers up and down my body. “I daresay he's
over-sold me quite a bit – he clearly hasn't read the latest draft chapter of
my doctorate.”
                The
class tittered, but I could sense that at least half the class was too busy
checking out his rock-hard abs and muscular arms to care much about what he had
to say. Even I – struggling to pay attention to what he said about the
development of post-punk as a genre – couldn't help undressing him with my
eyes, imagining what he might be wearing – or not wearing – underneath that
tight black muscle-tee. There