Music: It’s always open-mike night in the U.S.

I’ll admit it. I love music. My favorites are Western swing, Country and Western, and early Rock and Roll. I grew up with the delicious guitar riffs of Angus Young and AC-DC’s high-voltage rock. I danced to the Bee Gees’ “Saturday Night Fever.” Disco died a horrible and tragic death.

Actually, I kind of liked disco. Every song sounded the same, and even I could stumble along. And it got people to line dance again. I got “Thriller” with Michael Jackson. An aside to anyone under the age of 21: a record is a vinyl thing we used to listen to music on. Any questions, go ask your parents.

I even liked rap a little in its early stages, when I could understand what these young men were railing against. Now I need those interpreter headphones they use in the U.N.to decipher it. But RUN-DMC had it going on.

But music tastes have always been cyclical, and listening to today’s popular music proves that out. We used to refer to it as the AM sound, or “Pop” music. Now I can’t tell John Mayer from Oscar Meyer and Beyonce is a beautiful woman, but I wouldn’t recognize a lyric of hers if I tripped over it. But the softer sound is on its way back from the grave, otherwise known as the ‘70s.

Now it’s artists like Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake, Annette Funicello (just seeing if you were paying attention), and the like who are raking in the dollars while the picking is still good. Heck, Miley Cyrus is making so much green right now, she could not only decide which college to attend, but which college she wants to buy.

Two Hundred and Fifty zops for one ticket? For 250 bucks, not only should I see a fantastic show, but prime rib, lobster and an all-you-can-drink scotch bar had better be available. And then Frank Sinatra needs to come on stage for that kind of money.

Where is the next generation’s Elvis? How about the next Beatles? We’ve already seen the next Jack Nicklaus in golf. It’s Tiger Woods.

This generation needs a musical icon so bad it will give five minutes to anyone who will step up to the mike. And it’s always amateur night, here in America.

If you’ve got the goods, step up to the plate and take your cuts, because we are The Apollo Theatre and you are about to get booed off the stage if we don’t love you.

We found Elvis in Mississippi, for the love of God. Talent is everywhere; gods of music are rare.

Maybe that’s the answer. God gave us only one Elvis, one Beatles, one Jack Nicklaus and one Frank Sinatra. Perhaps one is all he could do.

Or most likely, one of each was all we deserved.