The rockabilly. The ironic laugh ‘til you’re silly. The dig down for the nitty gritty grunge rock. The alternative. The mainstream. The drug and sex fueled cock rock. The atmospheric prog-rock. The help-me-I’m-drowning-in-self-sacrifice rock. The disco. The Sisqo. The southern I’ll drink your face off and not take any of your shit rock. The I’ll love you through thin rock. The spiteful I’ll never forgive you until the day you die rock. The three part harmonies. The 10 minute guitar solos played with ease. The massive crowds pressed together, bound together by obsession. The Woodstock. The peace and love is all we need rock. The new-age. The advertised by web-page. The screaming girl teenie bopper rock. The black mascara gothic rock. The provactive. The pretentious. The I’ll play this until your ears bleed rock. The mellow let’s smoke some weed rock. The close your eyes and relax while it envelops your soul rock. The rock that isn’t the fabled rock, the rock of the church that stands on solid ground but isn’t the sound rock.