Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Aug
12

Rebel, Destroy, Assinate.

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You can find me here
with an open heart and ears
Refusing to surrender
I can't believe they don't remember
what it feels like to be young
--H20

The other day my friend sent me an old music compilation from 1996 (Fat Wreck Chords- Survival Of The Fattest). Upon listening to it again, thirteen years later, it immediately brought me back to my middle school days. It was surreal. I can remember exactly how I felt at age 13 when listening to these songs. There was nothing greater than being a young naive teenager with a whole world of music waiting to be discovered.

The music that I listened to in my youth is still as relevant and meaningful today as it was in '96. This ultimately speaks to the power of music and it's ability to transform and transcend time.

When you look at mainstream culture and it's ability to recycle and bastardize music, how many people can say they are still listening to the same music that they were as a kid? Is my generation still listening to the 1996 smash hit "C'mon and Ride it (The Train)" or are they now listening to "Circus" by Britney Spears?

I am glad I got involved in a culture that had substance and a message. I remember what it was like to be a young kid waiting anxiously for a band's demo in the mail. I'd check the mailbox everyday during summer to see if anything had arrived. I would also order bands blindly out of catalogs to discover new music (this was before the internet).

As I got older and formed my own band, I was able to give back to a scene that ultimately shaped my values and work ethic. I would constantly make trips to my college post office and mail out demo's to kids in California, Georgia and Texas. I remember what it felt like to be young and if sending these demo's out made only a handful of kids happy, then I felt like I did my part.


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Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Aug
11

A simpler time.

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Henry Miller is to Brazil as Charles Bukowski is to Thailand.

"We breathe warmly into each others mouth. Close together, America three thousand miles away. I never want to see it again. To have her here in bed with me, breathing on me, her hair in my mouth--I count that something as a miracle. Nothing can happen now till morning..."--Henry Miller

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"Your writing," she said to me, "it's so raw. It's like a sledge hammer, and yet it has humor and tenderness..."

"Yeah," I said.

I put my drink down and looked at her. I cupped her chin in my hand and drew her towards me. I gave her the tiniest kiss."

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