Just got back from a trip to Beijing – a wild place – the biggest city I have ever seen – glass high-rises form the canyon walls, eight-lane streets from the canyon floors, and they extend in every direction. In Beijing, drivers use the gas-pedal-and-horn technique. No braking. Cars slip in and out of lanes like fish moving around a coral reef, and if there’s no room to park on the street, then they park on the pavement.
A welcome respite from the furious, progress-tinged pace of Chinese life is the Hard Rock Café, located sort of up-and-to-the-right of the Forbidden City, nestled in a grove of upscale Western hotels, not too far from Embassy row. As fascinating as Chinese life is, the Café is a wonderful oasis, where the music of Elvis, The Pretenders and the Stray Cats complement onion rings, burgers and (gasps with delight) Guinness. The large central area has a stage, already set up with drums, guitars and mikes. And around the walls are the glass cases containing guitars from McCartney’s Wings, Tom Petty, and Prince, just to name a few. One-piece outfits belonging to Elvis, Ike Turner and even Fred from the B-52’s stand silently in glass cases, and there’s even a row of signed drumheads.
I guess the Hard Rock is like Starbucks for the musically inclined: a consistent customer experience that varies little from city to city. Beijing is a fabulous place, especially if you like high speed and crowds, which I do, but I tell you, two hours at the Hard Rock was an oasis of the cool, beautiful glamour of Rock, Soul, Blues and Motown.