What does it mean to ‘kick out the jams?’ No one knows, and it doesn’t matter. No one listens to the (pretty fucked up) lyrics of My Sharona. No one cares that every AC/DC song is 90% the same. Overthinking these things is anathema to appreciating good party rock. Even Jimi Hendrix, in a legendary live moment that no doubt required phenomenal skill, seems to be operating more on instinct than forethought. I suggest pounding a beer and telling your brain to shut up for once.