I was on the metro going back to my apartment from a friend's in Friendship Heights. At the Tenleytown-AU station a whole cadre of young AU freshmen hopped on. My first reaction was holy crap was I really that young? Did I really look that young? They looked like high schoolers! But now it has me thinking about what I learned once I got to American. I became acutely aware of indie hipsters, scenesters, whatever you want to call them. I was suddenly thrust into a world of irony and pretension.
My main problem with these hipsters, I've come to see, is an issue of being somewhat disingenuous despite a claim to be so advanced and cultured. In the indie rock world is a high level of pretension. The goal seemed, at this time, to do things just for the sake of appearance. Band were arty, without being "good," for the sake of appealing to the overeducated and overexposed people that I came across in those early days. Early days, jeebus I'm starting to sound like an old man. With this artiness came a seeming lack of passion in whatever the practitioners were doing. So many of the hipsters just seemed to not care about what it was they were doing or listening to or experiencing, almost to prove that they were so much cooler than anyone else they were surrounded by, despite claiming that it was something they truly enjoyed. A lot of times they were ex punk rock kids who, once they reached a certain age, decided that it wasn't "cool" enough. Maybe I'm overly sensitive, especially when you look at my previous entry where I fawned like a school girl over London Calling.
For me, there should never be anything ironic about music, and there should never be a pretense about being blase about something that is meant to invoke strong emotion. For me, if you like something, there is no reason to pretend not to, or to pretend to like it ironically. The worst is to pretend to be dispassionate about anything, ESPECIALLY music. When done right in my mind, the musician is expressing how they truly feel and it should come out in the music. He or she is sharing their passion with those who care to listen to it. It's insulting, if you ask me, to devalue what the artist has done. And those who create art with such a seemingly lukewarm attitude is an insult to the art itself. If you love a band, don't say "oh yeah, they're PRETTY rad," say "That is a great band." And if you don't love a band, don't fake it to fit in to be cool or hip. ESPECIALLY if you dislike a band. Journey is a hip band to like ironically. I hate Journey. I'll never pretend to like Journey to fit in with the skinny jeans wearin' folks at Wonderland Ballroom who try to lead a full bar in a chorus of "Don't Stop Believin'".
I hope they didn't actually lose their passion for music the way many of them seem to have. I hope I never lose my passion for music or great art or great film. I hope I don't lose my love for tacky shit I actually enjoy. Music has been what keeps me going on good days and bad, and if I lost this passion what else would I have? What else would I have if "It's Hard to Know" by Hot Water Music DIDN'T make me grab my shirt and belt out the final choruses of "Live your heart and never follow?" The last thing I want to be is a disingenuous drone who pretends for the sake of being cool. I would be a let down to myself and isn't that the worst thing in the world to think of?
Music is a very special thing, and it irritates me when people devalue it for the sake of being hip. Don't lie to yourself or others about what hits you in your gut when you hear or see it. Zealots of the indie world are just as bad as the shallow tastemakers of pop radio and MTV.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
More Rock and Roll Ramblings
I've written about the Clash's London Calling before, and it looks like I'll be writing about it again. I was at work today and I was walking to pick up lunch for me and my boss, so I was listening to my iPod as I do. Then, the song "Death Or Glory" off the aforementioned record came on. This is very quickly becoming my favorite song on a record full of killers, and there are lots of reasons why this album remains in my all time top ten desert island records.
First of all, it's an adventurous records. The Clash were a punk band that was never tied down by ANY genre conventions, experimenting with reggae, rockabilly, pop, jazz, etc. Actually, they did not just experiment, they truly went into each style, and yet they approached EVERYTHING with an attitude and intensity that made them more punk than the Sex Pistols, the Ramones, the Damned, and every other punk band in that critical era of gestation. They were then, and they still remain, THE quintessential punk band as far as I am concerned. They were angry and full of fire, like all good punk bands, but they radiated constructive fury, positive thinking and idealistic outlook that was missing in those early days and it really came out on the London Calling record. I've listened to that record for ten years and it remains as vital and influential to me as it did when I was a 14 year old twerp trusting his cool uncle's musical taste.
Ten years is a long time to listen to one record, and for it to be as important at 24 as it was when you were 14 is testament to the power. There are a lot of memories that I hold in so many of those songs.
The title track was my first introduction to the record, of course. The opening chords stab the ears with propulsive, incisive force and only hint at the bleak imagery that was hinted at in the lyrics. The music video which I saw much later is such a dark video that it may as well have been shot intentionally in black and white. Strummer, Simonon and Jones moved in the lock step fashion of front line soldiers, shouting out the title as if they were barking orders. When you're 14 years old and your main definition of what punk is is bands like Green Day, Nirvana, Blink 182 or in my case the Lower East Side Stitches (thanks Julie!), you expect punk music to be a wall of distorted guitars at breakneck speed, and yet here was a song that was slowed down with lots of space between the chords. My memories of this song include diving into the record on my discman on the bus to and from school and it was the national anthem I wanted to hear before class started. It was the song that woke me up in the morning and it was the song I always wanted to hear before I fell asleep. It was the song that played in my head constantly as I was getting ready to move to London for the fall of 2006. It was the song that I sang out loud on a boat on the Thames River at night. Thankfully it wasn't raining, but I stood on that boat deck, and 20 years old, I was still playing air guitar and moving side to side in rhythm with the music. It was the song Daniel and I cranked up as we pulled out of the car park on Gardiner Close in Ponders End, the address of Robbins Hall at Middlesex University, at the end of our all-too-brief three month friendship. It is a song that brings back memories, yet it is a song that could easily foreshadow our future as a civilization and it is a song that STILL lets me know that as a musician I have a LONG way to go. This song is the reason I still wear the same ratty, holey Clash tshirt I bought when I was 15.
London Calling also gave me my first taste of rockabilly with "Brand New Cadillac." The opening guitar line alone instantly transformed me back in those days into a '50s greaser and whenever I put on my black jeans, Speed Kings bowling shirt and Converse All Stars, that was the song that I always had in the back of my mind. When I was 14, 15 years old I was pretty uncool in the grand scheme of high school, and this was the song that made me realize that what the others thought was "cool" didn't matter. If the Clash wasn't cool, then I didn't want to be cool, and this was the song that gave me that courage.
"Jimmy Jazz," "Hateful," and "Spanish Bombs" are all killer tracks, and there is nothing bad anyone can say about that. "Rudie Can't Fail," though, is a standout among the next few. This was my first taste thought I didn't really know it at the time of ska music that wasn't slicked up pop rock on MTV or fluffy horseshit shoved down the throats of young christian teenagers. In college, at a punk show on campus, this was a song chosen by a fellow named Hunter for the four of us to cover. A certain fellow decided to put together a band with three other people he knew, in addition to himself. He would play bass, Hunter would play drums, Jessica would sing and I would play guitar. I'd known Josh from two or three other times I hung out with him, and this was the first time we really got to swap stories, so he decided to form a band with a few of us. It never went anywhere, but me and Josh still constantly got together and jam that year on the songs we wanted to play. He became one of the best friends I had through college and he remains one of my best friends to this day. This song, in a way, is the song on London Calling that is the reason we became the friends we are today.
Josh and I would later do a radio show that year, and of course cuts from London Calling were played all the time. One song in particular that was played a great deal was "I'm Not Down," and this song has since become the musical symbol of my close friend. It's one of his personal favorites, and it is also a song that truly encapsulates who he is as a person. Most people know Josh as a very friendly, outgoing character that is always in a cheerful mood and that is who he is the vast majority of the time. Though you can't be close friends with someone and see them only in one light the whole time. Real friends see each others ups and downs. You have fun at concerts and parties with them, but you're also with them late at night, listening to feelings about ex-girlfriends, breakups, fights, futility of life, and failed political campaigns that meant so much at the time. I remember seeing Josh in low states, and he always came back, pushing ahead with his gung ho attitude, looking for the next outlet for our energy. THIS song IS Josh because no matter how low I've seen him, how "down" he may be, never stayed there for very long, and he still rises quickly, and makes sure that you are up there with him. One of my favorite songs for one of my favorite people.
Which brings me to "Death or Glory." Don't let the nihilistic/fatalistic title fool you. This song is full of life and zeal and brings to my mind images of going for it, in whatever it is, with all of the power you can muster. As stated before this is quickly becoming my favorite song from one of my favorite albums ever. The Clash recorded this song with such a furious passion that it almost sounds like it was the last song the band ever played together, and in light of Joe Strummer's tragic death in 2002, sounds like he played it as if he felt it would be the last song he would ever record in his life. Thankfully this was not the case, but the song drips with sonic immortality, both for the band and for Strummer himself. OF the many things I would like to do musically in my lifetime, some day I would love to play this song to an audience and dedicate it not only to the memory of one of my heroes but also to the band, who in their own right, as a single entity, is my hero. It's a very powerful song, and of all the explosive songs on this album, this to me is the sonic encapsulation of the image on the front cover of bassist Paul Simonon smashing his bass on the stage of the Palladium. The two punctuating band hits at the beginning of the chorus is the initial impact and the echo of the bass smash. That musical moment is catharsis for everyone who faces a struggle head on, and despite the lyrics, it is the sound of one who struggles NOT for glory or death. It is a defiant statement in my mind. One image that is forever ingrained in my mind, I first saw in the summer of 2006 at the Mt. Olive skate park where my friends in Dead End Saints were playing a show. There was a punk rock dude, a bit older than me, who had the silhouette of the bass smash tattooed on his arm, under which was also tattooed "Death or Glory." There are few musical tattoos that truly blow my mind, and this above all else is the music tattoo that is cooler than all others, my own included (Sorry Jawbreaker). Much like that tattoo will always be with that unnamed punker at the Dead End Saints show, this song, this album, and that album cover will be with me until I follow Joe towards the outer reaches of the universe.
The Clash was hyped as "The Only Band that Matters," and this record, their magnum opus, was hailed as the "Album of the Eighties." The older I get, the more I believe that the hype men were right about the band. Nobody did more, in my opinion, for the rock and roll genre since the 1970s, to expand the sonic and idealistic palette of rock and roll, while still keeping their feet and their heads in the spirit of what rock and roll truly should be. Forget for a moment The Clash as a punk rock band, and think of them as a pure rock and roll band. There will never be a band like them again, and there never was a band like them before them. I must, however, quibble with the statement that London Calling was the album of the eighties. This is true, without a doubt. I didn't grow up then so I can't say for sure. Its influence was heard all through out the 1990s alternative rock and hearing my uncle regale me with his tales of The Clash on Christmas Day 1999, the day I got my first pair of Doc Martens, was a riveting close to the 90s. As for me, this album holds up as the album of the first decade of the new millennium. In essence, this is THE album of the past 30 years, and looking at bands like the Beatles and the Stones, I KNOW that this album will continue to shine as a beacon of brilliant art and raw guts for the next 30, and the 30 after that. I would like to take this time to thank the band for releasing this record, Joe Strummer for his role in the band and for the music he created in his lifetime. I was crushed when he died, and this album alone would be reason enough to lament the fact that this world is a little bit lamer without him. I'd like to express my gratitude and love for my friends with whom I've shared this record, and a love for this record, like Dan and Josh. Most of all I have to give recognition to the reason for the fact that I love this album so much. If my Uncle Pat did not speak of this album so highly, to a budding young punk in fresh combat boots, I don't think I would be the person that I am today. I don't know who I'd be, what I'd be doing, where I would be, if I did not trust the musical judgment of my godfather. He would later be the reason for my love of the Smiths and the Cure, and, along with my mother, the Allman Brothers Band. All of those amazing bands aside, the fact that he introduced me to London Calling by The Clash (among the other most excellent things he's done for me and my family) is the reason why I believe that I will some day make a fantastic uncle to some budding young rocker in the future. I can't thank my Uncle Pat enough, and I remain in his debt for this even AFTER buying him a London Calling t-shirt during my stay in London. I got so "rude and reckless" thanks to my Uncle Pat.
First of all, it's an adventurous records. The Clash were a punk band that was never tied down by ANY genre conventions, experimenting with reggae, rockabilly, pop, jazz, etc. Actually, they did not just experiment, they truly went into each style, and yet they approached EVERYTHING with an attitude and intensity that made them more punk than the Sex Pistols, the Ramones, the Damned, and every other punk band in that critical era of gestation. They were then, and they still remain, THE quintessential punk band as far as I am concerned. They were angry and full of fire, like all good punk bands, but they radiated constructive fury, positive thinking and idealistic outlook that was missing in those early days and it really came out on the London Calling record. I've listened to that record for ten years and it remains as vital and influential to me as it did when I was a 14 year old twerp trusting his cool uncle's musical taste.
Ten years is a long time to listen to one record, and for it to be as important at 24 as it was when you were 14 is testament to the power. There are a lot of memories that I hold in so many of those songs.
The title track was my first introduction to the record, of course. The opening chords stab the ears with propulsive, incisive force and only hint at the bleak imagery that was hinted at in the lyrics. The music video which I saw much later is such a dark video that it may as well have been shot intentionally in black and white. Strummer, Simonon and Jones moved in the lock step fashion of front line soldiers, shouting out the title as if they were barking orders. When you're 14 years old and your main definition of what punk is is bands like Green Day, Nirvana, Blink 182 or in my case the Lower East Side Stitches (thanks Julie!), you expect punk music to be a wall of distorted guitars at breakneck speed, and yet here was a song that was slowed down with lots of space between the chords. My memories of this song include diving into the record on my discman on the bus to and from school and it was the national anthem I wanted to hear before class started. It was the song that woke me up in the morning and it was the song I always wanted to hear before I fell asleep. It was the song that played in my head constantly as I was getting ready to move to London for the fall of 2006. It was the song that I sang out loud on a boat on the Thames River at night. Thankfully it wasn't raining, but I stood on that boat deck, and 20 years old, I was still playing air guitar and moving side to side in rhythm with the music. It was the song Daniel and I cranked up as we pulled out of the car park on Gardiner Close in Ponders End, the address of Robbins Hall at Middlesex University, at the end of our all-too-brief three month friendship. It is a song that brings back memories, yet it is a song that could easily foreshadow our future as a civilization and it is a song that STILL lets me know that as a musician I have a LONG way to go. This song is the reason I still wear the same ratty, holey Clash tshirt I bought when I was 15.
London Calling also gave me my first taste of rockabilly with "Brand New Cadillac." The opening guitar line alone instantly transformed me back in those days into a '50s greaser and whenever I put on my black jeans, Speed Kings bowling shirt and Converse All Stars, that was the song that I always had in the back of my mind. When I was 14, 15 years old I was pretty uncool in the grand scheme of high school, and this was the song that made me realize that what the others thought was "cool" didn't matter. If the Clash wasn't cool, then I didn't want to be cool, and this was the song that gave me that courage.
"Jimmy Jazz," "Hateful," and "Spanish Bombs" are all killer tracks, and there is nothing bad anyone can say about that. "Rudie Can't Fail," though, is a standout among the next few. This was my first taste thought I didn't really know it at the time of ska music that wasn't slicked up pop rock on MTV or fluffy horseshit shoved down the throats of young christian teenagers. In college, at a punk show on campus, this was a song chosen by a fellow named Hunter for the four of us to cover. A certain fellow decided to put together a band with three other people he knew, in addition to himself. He would play bass, Hunter would play drums, Jessica would sing and I would play guitar. I'd known Josh from two or three other times I hung out with him, and this was the first time we really got to swap stories, so he decided to form a band with a few of us. It never went anywhere, but me and Josh still constantly got together and jam that year on the songs we wanted to play. He became one of the best friends I had through college and he remains one of my best friends to this day. This song, in a way, is the song on London Calling that is the reason we became the friends we are today.
Josh and I would later do a radio show that year, and of course cuts from London Calling were played all the time. One song in particular that was played a great deal was "I'm Not Down," and this song has since become the musical symbol of my close friend. It's one of his personal favorites, and it is also a song that truly encapsulates who he is as a person. Most people know Josh as a very friendly, outgoing character that is always in a cheerful mood and that is who he is the vast majority of the time. Though you can't be close friends with someone and see them only in one light the whole time. Real friends see each others ups and downs. You have fun at concerts and parties with them, but you're also with them late at night, listening to feelings about ex-girlfriends, breakups, fights, futility of life, and failed political campaigns that meant so much at the time. I remember seeing Josh in low states, and he always came back, pushing ahead with his gung ho attitude, looking for the next outlet for our energy. THIS song IS Josh because no matter how low I've seen him, how "down" he may be, never stayed there for very long, and he still rises quickly, and makes sure that you are up there with him. One of my favorite songs for one of my favorite people.
Which brings me to "Death or Glory." Don't let the nihilistic/fatalistic title fool you. This song is full of life and zeal and brings to my mind images of going for it, in whatever it is, with all of the power you can muster. As stated before this is quickly becoming my favorite song from one of my favorite albums ever. The Clash recorded this song with such a furious passion that it almost sounds like it was the last song the band ever played together, and in light of Joe Strummer's tragic death in 2002, sounds like he played it as if he felt it would be the last song he would ever record in his life. Thankfully this was not the case, but the song drips with sonic immortality, both for the band and for Strummer himself. OF the many things I would like to do musically in my lifetime, some day I would love to play this song to an audience and dedicate it not only to the memory of one of my heroes but also to the band, who in their own right, as a single entity, is my hero. It's a very powerful song, and of all the explosive songs on this album, this to me is the sonic encapsulation of the image on the front cover of bassist Paul Simonon smashing his bass on the stage of the Palladium. The two punctuating band hits at the beginning of the chorus is the initial impact and the echo of the bass smash. That musical moment is catharsis for everyone who faces a struggle head on, and despite the lyrics, it is the sound of one who struggles NOT for glory or death. It is a defiant statement in my mind. One image that is forever ingrained in my mind, I first saw in the summer of 2006 at the Mt. Olive skate park where my friends in Dead End Saints were playing a show. There was a punk rock dude, a bit older than me, who had the silhouette of the bass smash tattooed on his arm, under which was also tattooed "Death or Glory." There are few musical tattoos that truly blow my mind, and this above all else is the music tattoo that is cooler than all others, my own included (Sorry Jawbreaker). Much like that tattoo will always be with that unnamed punker at the Dead End Saints show, this song, this album, and that album cover will be with me until I follow Joe towards the outer reaches of the universe.
The Clash was hyped as "The Only Band that Matters," and this record, their magnum opus, was hailed as the "Album of the Eighties." The older I get, the more I believe that the hype men were right about the band. Nobody did more, in my opinion, for the rock and roll genre since the 1970s, to expand the sonic and idealistic palette of rock and roll, while still keeping their feet and their heads in the spirit of what rock and roll truly should be. Forget for a moment The Clash as a punk rock band, and think of them as a pure rock and roll band. There will never be a band like them again, and there never was a band like them before them. I must, however, quibble with the statement that London Calling was the album of the eighties. This is true, without a doubt. I didn't grow up then so I can't say for sure. Its influence was heard all through out the 1990s alternative rock and hearing my uncle regale me with his tales of The Clash on Christmas Day 1999, the day I got my first pair of Doc Martens, was a riveting close to the 90s. As for me, this album holds up as the album of the first decade of the new millennium. In essence, this is THE album of the past 30 years, and looking at bands like the Beatles and the Stones, I KNOW that this album will continue to shine as a beacon of brilliant art and raw guts for the next 30, and the 30 after that. I would like to take this time to thank the band for releasing this record, Joe Strummer for his role in the band and for the music he created in his lifetime. I was crushed when he died, and this album alone would be reason enough to lament the fact that this world is a little bit lamer without him. I'd like to express my gratitude and love for my friends with whom I've shared this record, and a love for this record, like Dan and Josh. Most of all I have to give recognition to the reason for the fact that I love this album so much. If my Uncle Pat did not speak of this album so highly, to a budding young punk in fresh combat boots, I don't think I would be the person that I am today. I don't know who I'd be, what I'd be doing, where I would be, if I did not trust the musical judgment of my godfather. He would later be the reason for my love of the Smiths and the Cure, and, along with my mother, the Allman Brothers Band. All of those amazing bands aside, the fact that he introduced me to London Calling by The Clash (among the other most excellent things he's done for me and my family) is the reason why I believe that I will some day make a fantastic uncle to some budding young rocker in the future. I can't thank my Uncle Pat enough, and I remain in his debt for this even AFTER buying him a London Calling t-shirt during my stay in London. I got so "rude and reckless" thanks to my Uncle Pat.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Before my brain and writing atrophies....
Yes, it has been a very long time since I've written here and for some reason I felt the need to do some more writing about music.
I have opinions, like everyone does, about a lot of things. I have opinions about politics, religion, ethics, movies, books, sports, food...basically everything you can have an opinion on, I have an opinion on it. And yet, I find that most of my opinionated brain power is dedicated to expressing my opinions, thoughts, feelings, etc about music in its various forms. In the grand scheme of life itself I know a lot of people will debate really how important it is to spend so much brain power diving headlong into your favorite songs, and really dissecting them from a musical, lyrical, visual, and emotional standpoint.
I can never get my head around the concept of someone who enjoys music in a purely background noise manner, or whose only connection to a favorite song is a pleasing sound or a danceable beat. There's nothing wrong with it but it's something that I can't ever bring myself to understand. For me, this stopped being the case I'd say a good 15 years ago, and it became the focal point of my life, where I would make sure that every night I would be able to listen to my little red stereo with the hope to hear my favorite songs. I suppose this all-consuming rock and roll obsession started from a desire to hear songs I thought just sounded cool- it truly became so much more than that in my life.
Thankfully I started at a young age and the music was already there when I started growing up. Growing up in white picket fence suburbia there were all sorts of expectations on everyone, and as those of you who know me already have learned I rejected those expectations, for one reason or another. Or they rejected me, I don't know. Regardless, whenever shitty things in life happen we turn to certain things for comfort or explanation or just to make sense of things. Some turn to religion, and that never made sense to me. Raised Catholic, I never got any sense of comfort from "religion" or "faith" in a "god figure"; scripture passages I don't think were written for awkward teenagers trying to navigate hostile environments like gym class, school dances, breakups, struggles with identity, etc. etc. What always made sense to me was playing, and listening to, music. Comfort came from music in so many different ways. In high school when I realized I had no interest in sports or the big popularity contest that high school was, I took comfort listening to Social Distortion. I took comfort in hearing that Mike Ness felt the same way when he was my age. When I was fed up with the sociopolitical apathy of my high school peers, I took comfort in knowing that there were artists who were just as angry and were talking about it. Joe Strummer and Zach De La Rocha validated my then-misguided anger. When I struggled with peer alienation and felt out of step with most people I knew, Dropkick Murphys gave me hope that some day, somewhere, I would find friends who would pick me up when I was down, and make me want to keep going at things full speed ahead. When I was overcome with bitterness and hurting, music by Jawbreaker told me that the same shit has happened to other people before, everywhere, and that it was normal and okay for me to feel slighted and angry, yet confused. I was able to find meaning in all of those songs that struck me in the right place at the right time, and somehow being able to relate to these musicians, I found a comfort that transformed into a strength, an inspiration. If there's one thing that ties all these artists together, named and unnamed, it's that at some point they were out of step with their peers, and struggling to find their own meaning in the events of their lives. They needed a way to make sense of what they saw and felt.
I'm fortunate in that I can make my own music, and it serves the same purpose now as all those songs in the past did, and that many of them still do.
Inspiration to write comes at the stupidest times...
I have opinions, like everyone does, about a lot of things. I have opinions about politics, religion, ethics, movies, books, sports, food...basically everything you can have an opinion on, I have an opinion on it. And yet, I find that most of my opinionated brain power is dedicated to expressing my opinions, thoughts, feelings, etc about music in its various forms. In the grand scheme of life itself I know a lot of people will debate really how important it is to spend so much brain power diving headlong into your favorite songs, and really dissecting them from a musical, lyrical, visual, and emotional standpoint.
I can never get my head around the concept of someone who enjoys music in a purely background noise manner, or whose only connection to a favorite song is a pleasing sound or a danceable beat. There's nothing wrong with it but it's something that I can't ever bring myself to understand. For me, this stopped being the case I'd say a good 15 years ago, and it became the focal point of my life, where I would make sure that every night I would be able to listen to my little red stereo with the hope to hear my favorite songs. I suppose this all-consuming rock and roll obsession started from a desire to hear songs I thought just sounded cool- it truly became so much more than that in my life.
Thankfully I started at a young age and the music was already there when I started growing up. Growing up in white picket fence suburbia there were all sorts of expectations on everyone, and as those of you who know me already have learned I rejected those expectations, for one reason or another. Or they rejected me, I don't know. Regardless, whenever shitty things in life happen we turn to certain things for comfort or explanation or just to make sense of things. Some turn to religion, and that never made sense to me. Raised Catholic, I never got any sense of comfort from "religion" or "faith" in a "god figure"; scripture passages I don't think were written for awkward teenagers trying to navigate hostile environments like gym class, school dances, breakups, struggles with identity, etc. etc. What always made sense to me was playing, and listening to, music. Comfort came from music in so many different ways. In high school when I realized I had no interest in sports or the big popularity contest that high school was, I took comfort listening to Social Distortion. I took comfort in hearing that Mike Ness felt the same way when he was my age. When I was fed up with the sociopolitical apathy of my high school peers, I took comfort in knowing that there were artists who were just as angry and were talking about it. Joe Strummer and Zach De La Rocha validated my then-misguided anger. When I struggled with peer alienation and felt out of step with most people I knew, Dropkick Murphys gave me hope that some day, somewhere, I would find friends who would pick me up when I was down, and make me want to keep going at things full speed ahead. When I was overcome with bitterness and hurting, music by Jawbreaker told me that the same shit has happened to other people before, everywhere, and that it was normal and okay for me to feel slighted and angry, yet confused. I was able to find meaning in all of those songs that struck me in the right place at the right time, and somehow being able to relate to these musicians, I found a comfort that transformed into a strength, an inspiration. If there's one thing that ties all these artists together, named and unnamed, it's that at some point they were out of step with their peers, and struggling to find their own meaning in the events of their lives. They needed a way to make sense of what they saw and felt.
I'm fortunate in that I can make my own music, and it serves the same purpose now as all those songs in the past did, and that many of them still do.
Inspiration to write comes at the stupidest times...
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