i started to read this book called 'justice' by michael j. sandel. i read the first couple chapters and put it down. its pretty interesting. im also reading 'the island at the end of the world' by sam taylor.
i have heidis and adams feet on my wall, too many guitars on my couch, a cat on my rug, and im wearing a flannel shirt. huzzah.
also, the ten(ish) records (ive been listening to mostly) of the first ten days of '010:
damien jurado ~ four songs
heart shaped hate ~ heart shaped hate
weakerthans ~ reconstruction site
kimya dawson ~ hidden vagenda
ben nichols ~ the last pale light in the west
the taxpayers ~ sing exhilarating news
porches ~ porches
joe strummer & the mescaleros ~ streetcore
more defining moments in my musical history next week.
thank you, dear readers
1.10.2010
12.25.2009
my name is jonas (part 3b)
sirs, and ladies, i apologize for the interruption. as last time drew to a close, we were discussing that although technically metal and punk have ruled that time period we have already come to call the last decade, as early as 2002 i had my nose to the wind, picking up the faint scent of that which we call indie rock. and dear readers, it smelt like something i should feel guilty about. the punk rocker that was 19 year old vern could not degrade himself to listen to that heartless and passionless drivel and would rather be listening to a 15 year old blink 182 cover band labor through an hour set than be caught dead with a dashboard confessional cd under his mattress. exaggeration you say? on some days. i will say that it did help the fact that among the ranks of bands i would listen to late at night when noone was awake to judge, were the likes of jeff suffering, who had more punk cred in his little finger than all of south east texas.
more importantly than looking cool, my body needed pop. i needed sweet little girls with hair under their arms singing about troloping through the woods or whatever it is that hippies do these days. i needed weezer's melodies to lull me into a false sense of ok-ness with the world. i needed to know that someone else out there felt my chris carabba-esque pain.
...
its been a week dear readers since ive written the two paragraphs above. i came back to this page over and over hoping the creative juices would flow like a waterfall of chocolate into charlies darling little hands. and then i realized that i hate that movie. i also realized that i cannot write about music while i am not feeling the music, and i havent felt the musical pull. at least not when ive sat down. but this brings me to my point, music makes you feel. it can make you dance like a goat on fire.
in ten years i have denied myself certain joys, but also, ive felt more music than i think some people feel in their entire lives, and dear readers, music has ruled, and you could even say saved, my life. it was about ten years ago, maybe a bit more that i decided that i wanted to play music for the sole purpose of helping other people feel music the way i did. i wanted to do for others what others had done for me. that is why i play, and ultimately what determines the music i listen to. i seek that feeling. i dont care if its good music, if it doesnt make me feel, then its out. and most of my friends know that i will listen to garbage that makes me happy. (ie. chumbawamba, or mxpx's version of auld lang syne)
i cant go into too many details right now. perhaps there will be a time and place for that, but i have just run out of clever things to say. and now dear readers, some of my favorite musical moments of the past ten years.
1) i walk into the house with an inadvertent soundtrack of point of recognition. clay is doing some air punches in his room, he sees me, smiles a smile of ultimate satisfaction and stage dives out of sight onto his bed.
2) flogging molly, the fist time. scott and i both have a shot of jager in one hand and a guiness in the other. joe strummers redemption song goes on the speakers as the lights go down. we toast, shot, and start in on our beer. by the time the song is over and the first strains of drunken lullabies comes on, our beers are finished. one last look, all smiles, as we charge the stage.
3) a truck stop just outside of denver colorado will be the setting for this one. its been a long day of blizzards and loud mouth truckers. thus the song. heidi tells me i hafto hear this band. i put the ear buds in as the angelic sounds of the murder city devils wash over me. 18 wheels is the song, and i am speechless. i smoke a cigarette after.
4) for some of my friends, whos musicality started toward the begining of the previous decade, this will time stamp me to the younger generation. keep in mind tho that i grew up in the middle of what the kids refer to as bfe. i wont tell you what it stands for, my sister reads this, however the first time i saw a band that wasnt on a big stage a milion miles away was in this decade my friends. living sacrifice, stavesacre, and project 86. living sacrifice blew my small town mind.
5) my first performance with a band. shortsleve was our name, falling down and breaking stuff was our game. we either sounded horrible or we sounded like dogwood, take your pick, but i think everyone had a good time.
just a few my friends. for the rest you will have to be with me at the right time, on the right night, at the right level of inebriation, and then you will hear all about it.
happy holidays, you bastards.
and thank you dear readers.
more importantly than looking cool, my body needed pop. i needed sweet little girls with hair under their arms singing about troloping through the woods or whatever it is that hippies do these days. i needed weezer's melodies to lull me into a false sense of ok-ness with the world. i needed to know that someone else out there felt my chris carabba-esque pain.
...
its been a week dear readers since ive written the two paragraphs above. i came back to this page over and over hoping the creative juices would flow like a waterfall of chocolate into charlies darling little hands. and then i realized that i hate that movie. i also realized that i cannot write about music while i am not feeling the music, and i havent felt the musical pull. at least not when ive sat down. but this brings me to my point, music makes you feel. it can make you dance like a goat on fire.
in ten years i have denied myself certain joys, but also, ive felt more music than i think some people feel in their entire lives, and dear readers, music has ruled, and you could even say saved, my life. it was about ten years ago, maybe a bit more that i decided that i wanted to play music for the sole purpose of helping other people feel music the way i did. i wanted to do for others what others had done for me. that is why i play, and ultimately what determines the music i listen to. i seek that feeling. i dont care if its good music, if it doesnt make me feel, then its out. and most of my friends know that i will listen to garbage that makes me happy. (ie. chumbawamba, or mxpx's version of auld lang syne)
i cant go into too many details right now. perhaps there will be a time and place for that, but i have just run out of clever things to say. and now dear readers, some of my favorite musical moments of the past ten years.
1) i walk into the house with an inadvertent soundtrack of point of recognition. clay is doing some air punches in his room, he sees me, smiles a smile of ultimate satisfaction and stage dives out of sight onto his bed.
2) flogging molly, the fist time. scott and i both have a shot of jager in one hand and a guiness in the other. joe strummers redemption song goes on the speakers as the lights go down. we toast, shot, and start in on our beer. by the time the song is over and the first strains of drunken lullabies comes on, our beers are finished. one last look, all smiles, as we charge the stage.
3) a truck stop just outside of denver colorado will be the setting for this one. its been a long day of blizzards and loud mouth truckers. thus the song. heidi tells me i hafto hear this band. i put the ear buds in as the angelic sounds of the murder city devils wash over me. 18 wheels is the song, and i am speechless. i smoke a cigarette after.
4) for some of my friends, whos musicality started toward the begining of the previous decade, this will time stamp me to the younger generation. keep in mind tho that i grew up in the middle of what the kids refer to as bfe. i wont tell you what it stands for, my sister reads this, however the first time i saw a band that wasnt on a big stage a milion miles away was in this decade my friends. living sacrifice, stavesacre, and project 86. living sacrifice blew my small town mind.
5) my first performance with a band. shortsleve was our name, falling down and breaking stuff was our game. we either sounded horrible or we sounded like dogwood, take your pick, but i think everyone had a good time.
just a few my friends. for the rest you will have to be with me at the right time, on the right night, at the right level of inebriation, and then you will hear all about it.
happy holidays, you bastards.
and thank you dear readers.
12.09.2009
memphis has been laid to waste (part 3a)
so much in the past ten years. so many changes. the body changes every seven. completely new cells. i heard that once, im not sure, but it makes sense looking at how much someone changes in ten years. for me, it went from from being in high school to 8 years graduated, and i still dont have a career, nor have i held a single job for more than a year's time. through college (failing out 4 times) and living in my car/brother's couch/future brother-in-law's couch. ive hitched from coast to coast and back, and flew to the other side of the world twice. tho i'm not quite done with them, i believe the first ten years out of high school are one's most formative. they also give one the chance to branch out and see what he or she is made of, as well as seeing what the world around one is made of. saying that, i hope to be proven wrong, and i hope to continue to have many of the same types of experiences through the next ten years. but today my friends, we speak of music. more specifically, the music i started this decade with, a little of what happened in the middle, and the music i am ending this decade with. so, my dearest readers, with a fresh cup of coffee and a new song starting as we speak, let us begin.
to the best of my knowledge, at the turn of the century 'living sacrifice' and 'zao' were my favorite bands, with 'horde', 'extol', 'overcome', and 'few left standing' making for a fairly brutal second wave. i had just discovered hardcore music in the months since the last summer, making the switchover from contemporary christian to spirit filled hardcore with grace and style fit for any small town preacher's kid. i probably even spent the dreaded y2k changeover in my room with my headphones on listening to bruce fitzhugh scream about how christians shouldnt smoke*. ah, christian metal. scare your parents for jesus. i was just trying to express myself, i said. i was just being what god made me. ha. to be one hundred percent on this, it was about half and half. i can think back to junior high, being attracted to the heavier, faster parts of the christian rock that dominated my burgeoning taste buds for years. i really wanted heavier, faster music, and i'd finally found it. but like i said, being at one hundred percent, it was kinda fun to piss off my parents. that got old after a little while. thats probably about the time the bitterness started to set in and solidified my need for speed, as it were.
my roots in this style of music have shaped the last decade, and even ruled the first half of it as a foundation for whatever else was going on in my head. by the end of high school, i listened mostly to black metal and goth, but still had one hand in hardcore. by 2003, it was all punk all the time, except for when my friends and i would get together and try to find the most brutal, bone crushing, blastbeat ridden, skull pounding, yet still danceable breakdowns. speaking of which, ive always hated hardcore dancing. dumb. i digress. where was i? punk rock. perhaps as one looking in, punk could adequately describe the last ten years. but i wouldn't've gotten there without metal coming first, and then later, dragging me back into 80's hardcore in late 2004 or so. punk was all i wanted to be for all time, forever and into eternity. never quite made it, did i? little things kept pulling me away. the fact that i was an idiot being the chief concern. growing up in a little town and then moving to a slightly bigger town didnt really give me the chance to flex my punkrockedness much. as soon as i got out of huntsville and saw the rest of the world, i realized that i was full of it. like most people who are, i realized that i had a really good imagination about the world around me. le sigh. back to the music talk? no, i will break now and make this a two parter. next time discussing the undercurrents (purposefully?) not seen by the average 'vern friend'. or maybe nobody really cared that much and im a vain, s...[end transmission]
*the song 'burn the end' was actually on the cd 'the hammering process' which wasn't released till later in 2000, which means i was probably actually listening to zao. forgive me, dear readers.
to the best of my knowledge, at the turn of the century 'living sacrifice' and 'zao' were my favorite bands, with 'horde', 'extol', 'overcome', and 'few left standing' making for a fairly brutal second wave. i had just discovered hardcore music in the months since the last summer, making the switchover from contemporary christian to spirit filled hardcore with grace and style fit for any small town preacher's kid. i probably even spent the dreaded y2k changeover in my room with my headphones on listening to bruce fitzhugh scream about how christians shouldnt smoke*. ah, christian metal. scare your parents for jesus. i was just trying to express myself, i said. i was just being what god made me. ha. to be one hundred percent on this, it was about half and half. i can think back to junior high, being attracted to the heavier, faster parts of the christian rock that dominated my burgeoning taste buds for years. i really wanted heavier, faster music, and i'd finally found it. but like i said, being at one hundred percent, it was kinda fun to piss off my parents. that got old after a little while. thats probably about the time the bitterness started to set in and solidified my need for speed, as it were.
my roots in this style of music have shaped the last decade, and even ruled the first half of it as a foundation for whatever else was going on in my head. by the end of high school, i listened mostly to black metal and goth, but still had one hand in hardcore. by 2003, it was all punk all the time, except for when my friends and i would get together and try to find the most brutal, bone crushing, blastbeat ridden, skull pounding, yet still danceable breakdowns. speaking of which, ive always hated hardcore dancing. dumb. i digress. where was i? punk rock. perhaps as one looking in, punk could adequately describe the last ten years. but i wouldn't've gotten there without metal coming first, and then later, dragging me back into 80's hardcore in late 2004 or so. punk was all i wanted to be for all time, forever and into eternity. never quite made it, did i? little things kept pulling me away. the fact that i was an idiot being the chief concern. growing up in a little town and then moving to a slightly bigger town didnt really give me the chance to flex my punkrockedness much. as soon as i got out of huntsville and saw the rest of the world, i realized that i was full of it. like most people who are, i realized that i had a really good imagination about the world around me. le sigh. back to the music talk? no, i will break now and make this a two parter. next time discussing the undercurrents (purposefully?) not seen by the average 'vern friend'. or maybe nobody really cared that much and im a vain, s...[end transmission]
*the song 'burn the end' was actually on the cd 'the hammering process' which wasn't released till later in 2000, which means i was probably actually listening to zao. forgive me, dear readers.
11.30.2009
on that bright and cloudless morning (part 2)
driving from texas into new mexico, my family would cross the border at farwell, follow 84 through clovis and fort sumner, and on up to I-40. 40 leads right into albuquerque, where my granddad used to live. my family would usually drive out there in the summer and every other christmas. maybe its because its a fairly epic road trip to take in one day, (starting from rising star, texas, then sweetwater, carbon, bryan and finally richards) that makes these memories stand out in general. beginning sometimes before dawn even broke. my dad and his coffee, we kids piled in the back seat with our pillows, ready to fall asleep again as soon as we were on the road. im not even sure how old i was when all this began, or how old i was when the following memory happened, and to be quite honest, it may have been one time, or an amalgamation of memories that i recall, but somewhere between moriarty, and albuquerque, you start to go up into the mountains. and like i said, i was young, and this was the end of a very long day, so typically we kids were asleep at this point in the evening. to make it better, i dont remember music playing the entire rest of the journey. but going through that mountain pass, the pressure change going into the mountains would always wake me up, and i swear, every single time i would wake up in those mountains, 'ring of fire' would be playing. those trumpets, that deep voice, the epic swell of the chorus as johnny cash recounted over and over how he fell into that burning ring. none of it really really made sense, but i liked it.
the biggest question that haunts me, when it comes to my memories, is time. the aforementioned may have been my earliest memory. or perhaps it was when i was riding with my dad in his little yellow truck out to his mothers house one spring morning and, like you do, we were singing hymns. my dad in his earth shaking baritone, and me trying to be as manly and like my dad as is possible at however old i was at the time. four, maybe. the two hymns i most equate with my father, out of all the hundreds that were played in church week after week for the first 19 years of my life, are 'when the roll is called up yonder' and 'on jordan's stormy banks'. not knowing what a yonder was or why it was rolling can make for some pretty interesting visual images for a kid. especially paired with morning breaks, trumpets sounding, and the dead rising. im not sure if thats why i remember that particular song from that period of my life, but the latter has a much more specific memory attached to it. as i said, my dad and i were headed out to my grandmothers on a crisp fall morning singing, 'on jordan's stormy banks i stand and cast a wishful eye...' at some point my dad asked me or i asked him what a wishful eye was. like i said, i was four, maybe. he pulled the truck over and pointed off in the distance, he swore he could see my grandmother's barn from where we were and said he wished he was there, and thats what having a wishful eye was. i couldnt see it, and i think it wound up frustrating him, but i got the point, and he got to be apart of another of my earliest memories. more importantly to you dear reader, it may have been the first song that i really began to understand the words to. songs were no longer just words i didnt know set to a melody that made me feel epic on sunday mornings, when 20 to 30 voices in unison would make that spot deep inside my chest swell up, and make me want to join in the cacophonous beauty. i began to think about what i was singing. not critically mind you, i was just aware of it, and usually accepted it.
johnny horton didnt come too far behind johnny cash and the hymns. 'the battle of new orleans' could probably be considered the theme song to my childhood. i would act out the words as best i could, listening to the song over and over off my dads tape, making my own little music video, if you will. this was probably where my patriotism and love for the army began. a love affair that lasted until i saw those plastic starships in service merchandise one evening and was immediately turned into a trekkie. but thats a whole other story. my dad watched war movies, so i watched war movies. the ones about the civil war usually had music where they would sing at least on the sound track, if not have a part where the soldiers would be singing along. i would listen, pause, write the words. listen, pause, write the words, until i had the song down. thats what caught my attention next, a natural progression i suppose, but i learned songs from the civil war. 'the yellow rose of texas', 'dixie', 'the battle hymn of the republic'. i loved that that one was in the hymnal at church too. i remember the music more than the movies i think. but if i didnt, this little anecdote wouldnt be very relevant in this particular situation would it?
thank you dear readers
the biggest question that haunts me, when it comes to my memories, is time. the aforementioned may have been my earliest memory. or perhaps it was when i was riding with my dad in his little yellow truck out to his mothers house one spring morning and, like you do, we were singing hymns. my dad in his earth shaking baritone, and me trying to be as manly and like my dad as is possible at however old i was at the time. four, maybe. the two hymns i most equate with my father, out of all the hundreds that were played in church week after week for the first 19 years of my life, are 'when the roll is called up yonder' and 'on jordan's stormy banks'. not knowing what a yonder was or why it was rolling can make for some pretty interesting visual images for a kid. especially paired with morning breaks, trumpets sounding, and the dead rising. im not sure if thats why i remember that particular song from that period of my life, but the latter has a much more specific memory attached to it. as i said, my dad and i were headed out to my grandmothers on a crisp fall morning singing, 'on jordan's stormy banks i stand and cast a wishful eye...' at some point my dad asked me or i asked him what a wishful eye was. like i said, i was four, maybe. he pulled the truck over and pointed off in the distance, he swore he could see my grandmother's barn from where we were and said he wished he was there, and thats what having a wishful eye was. i couldnt see it, and i think it wound up frustrating him, but i got the point, and he got to be apart of another of my earliest memories. more importantly to you dear reader, it may have been the first song that i really began to understand the words to. songs were no longer just words i didnt know set to a melody that made me feel epic on sunday mornings, when 20 to 30 voices in unison would make that spot deep inside my chest swell up, and make me want to join in the cacophonous beauty. i began to think about what i was singing. not critically mind you, i was just aware of it, and usually accepted it.
johnny horton didnt come too far behind johnny cash and the hymns. 'the battle of new orleans' could probably be considered the theme song to my childhood. i would act out the words as best i could, listening to the song over and over off my dads tape, making my own little music video, if you will. this was probably where my patriotism and love for the army began. a love affair that lasted until i saw those plastic starships in service merchandise one evening and was immediately turned into a trekkie. but thats a whole other story. my dad watched war movies, so i watched war movies. the ones about the civil war usually had music where they would sing at least on the sound track, if not have a part where the soldiers would be singing along. i would listen, pause, write the words. listen, pause, write the words, until i had the song down. thats what caught my attention next, a natural progression i suppose, but i learned songs from the civil war. 'the yellow rose of texas', 'dixie', 'the battle hymn of the republic'. i loved that that one was in the hymnal at church too. i remember the music more than the movies i think. but if i didnt, this little anecdote wouldnt be very relevant in this particular situation would it?
thank you dear readers
11.01.2009
sweet dudes and ladies (part 1)
as i was showering today, i started thinking about music and a question that i heard in an interview with adam horowitz. i will try to answer the question directly and at a later date go into an in depth review of my musical progression. if you'll take a moment with me, like driving, ive found that writing is best done with a soundtrack, so if you'll hold on just one moment. and there we go. now we may begin.
to the original question, friends. it has something to do with a shift in prespective. a monument in time, if you will, around which everything else in the past revolves. the interviewer gave an example of a man he had met once who when telling stories about the past, always time-stamped his thoughts with it either being 'before the riots', or 'after the riots'. the question to adam horowitz was if there a similar moment that has shaped his musical life. at least, thats to the best of my memory what was going on. this of course got me to thinking about moments in my own life that have shaped the one constant throughout all of my remembered existance, music. as the water began to run cold and i hurried to wash the rest of the soap out of my hair, the most single defining moment that popped into my head wasnt my discovery of punk rock, hardcore, picking up a guitar for the first time or even when i wrote my first song, it was me in the computer lab late one night at sam houston state university, xanga creeping and found a picture on a friend of a friend's xanga of a band that id never heard or even heard of, but just from the one picture of these sweet dudes and ladies in mid song, drawing the beauty of the heavens down and sharing them with we, mere mortals. we, humble purveyors of mediocrity. we, the unwashed masses. it was more than a picture, it was a love affair with my eyes. it spoke of all the energy and simplicity that id been on a search for my entire life, tho i may not have known it. and also dear readers, i did not fully realize what this picture ment. unlike columbus thinking hed sailed clear around the world and found a shorter way to india, (however wrong he may have been) i had no idea what this land that i was looking at was supposed to be. some magical land, full of strange wonders and excitements. knowing only that i didnt know what it was that i needed, but i needed it, and this was the place to find it. this was my first reaction to a picture of the band 'defiance, ohio'. very shortly after that, i found some of their music online and consumated my relationship with this band. a love affair that i belive, sparked a change in the way i looked at music and all of its ins and outs. a change that you can draw lines from my actions, decisions, and the music i make itself even now, straight back to that one glorious evening. the simplicity of accoustic instruments, the raw passion shown in their faces and heard in their voices. the intelligent simplicity of the lyrics. another musical world was opened to me that evening, and ive never been the same since.
there is much about this transformation that i still don't fully understand. it's much easier shown than spoken. its not that 'diy' was new to me. i knew what house shows were. it's much deeper than that. the combination of the anger and power of punk mixed with the singability and relation to whoever may be listening of folk music was what ultimately blew my mind. singing about loving a cause but hating the others that stand beside you, and being scared to dance at a show infront of other people were things i'd never heard sung before. things that i could relate to on a very personal level but to some extent thought i was alone in feeling. had i really thought about it, i would have known that i wasn't alone, but it felt good to finally have someone sing this to me. also, a huge part of it was that these were ordinary people. there was no real way to idolize these people when you saw how human they really were. what drew me to punk in the first place was that i knew i could do it. i learned how to play guitar to the ramones. it was fun, fast and simple. this was fun, fast, and simple, but also real in a new way. i could pick up my acoustic guitar and bang out three chords without having to go thru the hassle of band practice. dont get me wrong, i would still much rather play with other people, but now, were the people not avaliable, i could still have my punk rock.
but this is not where my love of music began, sirs and ladies. for that we will have to go back to one of my earliest memories that ive ever been able to recover, johnny cash singing about a ring of fire. but that will have to wait untill next time.
thank you dear readers
to the original question, friends. it has something to do with a shift in prespective. a monument in time, if you will, around which everything else in the past revolves. the interviewer gave an example of a man he had met once who when telling stories about the past, always time-stamped his thoughts with it either being 'before the riots', or 'after the riots'. the question to adam horowitz was if there a similar moment that has shaped his musical life. at least, thats to the best of my memory what was going on. this of course got me to thinking about moments in my own life that have shaped the one constant throughout all of my remembered existance, music. as the water began to run cold and i hurried to wash the rest of the soap out of my hair, the most single defining moment that popped into my head wasnt my discovery of punk rock, hardcore, picking up a guitar for the first time or even when i wrote my first song, it was me in the computer lab late one night at sam houston state university, xanga creeping and found a picture on a friend of a friend's xanga of a band that id never heard or even heard of, but just from the one picture of these sweet dudes and ladies in mid song, drawing the beauty of the heavens down and sharing them with we, mere mortals. we, humble purveyors of mediocrity. we, the unwashed masses. it was more than a picture, it was a love affair with my eyes. it spoke of all the energy and simplicity that id been on a search for my entire life, tho i may not have known it. and also dear readers, i did not fully realize what this picture ment. unlike columbus thinking hed sailed clear around the world and found a shorter way to india, (however wrong he may have been) i had no idea what this land that i was looking at was supposed to be. some magical land, full of strange wonders and excitements. knowing only that i didnt know what it was that i needed, but i needed it, and this was the place to find it. this was my first reaction to a picture of the band 'defiance, ohio'. very shortly after that, i found some of their music online and consumated my relationship with this band. a love affair that i belive, sparked a change in the way i looked at music and all of its ins and outs. a change that you can draw lines from my actions, decisions, and the music i make itself even now, straight back to that one glorious evening. the simplicity of accoustic instruments, the raw passion shown in their faces and heard in their voices. the intelligent simplicity of the lyrics. another musical world was opened to me that evening, and ive never been the same since.
there is much about this transformation that i still don't fully understand. it's much easier shown than spoken. its not that 'diy' was new to me. i knew what house shows were. it's much deeper than that. the combination of the anger and power of punk mixed with the singability and relation to whoever may be listening of folk music was what ultimately blew my mind. singing about loving a cause but hating the others that stand beside you, and being scared to dance at a show infront of other people were things i'd never heard sung before. things that i could relate to on a very personal level but to some extent thought i was alone in feeling. had i really thought about it, i would have known that i wasn't alone, but it felt good to finally have someone sing this to me. also, a huge part of it was that these were ordinary people. there was no real way to idolize these people when you saw how human they really were. what drew me to punk in the first place was that i knew i could do it. i learned how to play guitar to the ramones. it was fun, fast and simple. this was fun, fast, and simple, but also real in a new way. i could pick up my acoustic guitar and bang out three chords without having to go thru the hassle of band practice. dont get me wrong, i would still much rather play with other people, but now, were the people not avaliable, i could still have my punk rock.
but this is not where my love of music began, sirs and ladies. for that we will have to go back to one of my earliest memories that ive ever been able to recover, johnny cash singing about a ring of fire. but that will have to wait untill next time.
thank you dear readers
10.26.2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
