+++LANGUAGE ALERT+++
COME ON IN…THE TINNITUS IS AMAZING!
So I am watching "it might get loud", a movie
about 3 major guitarists talking about their love affair with their
instruments. Jimmy paige, the edge, and jack white. I had seen parts of it at
my friend’s house in Delaware, but we were reminiscing so much it hadn’t crossed
my mind to actually pay attention to it.
I am in awe of musicians. With a stroke of the wrist they
can make you dance or cry in one note. The hands and fingers hitting the parts of the
wood that make the amplifier howl sends shivers sometimes.
As I watched I remembered meeting mr setzer in NJ and
finding myself staring at his crotch area during the time I wasn’t backstage
smoking. But it wasn’t his hips that made me drool. His fingers and mastery of
the chords and strings hypnotized me. I keep finding myself wanting more from
these live acts I have seen and all haven’t come close to his picking wisdom.
As I watched I remembered writing about my cousin Patrick
and his band in the freezing cold one January night and the dementia of my mind
to leave whilst this brilliant performance was going on. I remember calling him
jimmy paige in the writeup and I realize he is right on my screen. And as
brilliant as he is, jimmy paige is no Patrick MacDonald.
I am pissed I have no musical talent. None. I am not the
jock or nothing really. There is no purpose for me to be of this world and I
contribute nothing to society the way these people do. These folks are of the subatomic-sized
group of people that through music and confidence they can change a generation.
Stairway
Sunday bloody Sunday
Seven nation army
Just writing those words and you reading them makes your
head bob a bit. Currently I have to now go to youtube to listen to jack sing
that goddamn song. I seriously hate the song but for whatever reason I am drawn
to it so bear with me…
side note… a nice side note too… never noticed meg’s breasts
were so voluptuous… I NOW LOVE THIS VIDEO. Yeah they’re the dime-nickel-quarter
type, or ski jump type...but oye!
But the more I think about it I feel like painting…. (inside joke)
No I am not an instrumenteur. MSWord says that’s not a word,
but you’re reading this so you should know what it is. Fuck word. Call Webster. And Gates.
i made a word that i am not even one of. Who does that? people who are up at 4:20am sunday mornings.
I cannot play any keyboard, I can’t play any strings, I have
no rhythm, I can’t drum, what am I good for?
I figured out I am good at eating and shitting and peeing
and drinking. I can turn a plate of food into shit in a good 8 hours or so.
So I pick up my instrument now and play it. I hit a few keys
and words start to form. The blank sheet turns to black lines if you stood far
away, but as you come into focus you see spaces and paragraphs form.
Then there’s a blue line… from far away it means nothing,
but close up you can hear music if you click the blue line with your mouse.
As I watched the documentary I saw them play to thousands,
millions, trillions. I saw how each of those notes they played and spoke so
eloquently about affected the crowd. You hear this song played and you see how
singular one man took the time to write and it affects not just the crowd
there, but eventually the nation… then the world.
One dude… you, too.
Watch this video and don’t focus on the band for what goes
in your ears, listen to the crowd. One dude made the words, the group the
melody… and a nation of live aid is singing it actually to the band, not the
other way around. It’s as if the performer came to play for the crowd to sing
to them.
Can you even fathom the power?
As a guy sitting in his apartment I don’t really want to
hear people reading my emails back to me. No blog entries either. But as one
guy making something from nothing, you can’t beat being in a band. Maybe a
prizefighter walking in to a fight is a good enough representation of the rush
of adrenaline a crowd must give you. And this rush… I feel sitting here writing
about the rush. I get goosebumps watching the pixels change color in front of
my eyes and realize each pixel is a human being holding in pee while feeling
every moment of the song. Then again… live aid… wembley…. Just piss your pants.
And finally…
(speaking of breasts)
Sorry… whilst looking for this, that piece of garbage came
thru and as much as I appreciate the efforts of miss parton, I have to feel the
douche chills from her guitarist forced to try and make stairway his own… I say
this and I can also say I heard not one word of her singing the song. I just
watched the intro, and of course rewound to see her cleavage again.
[On a side note… Why is rewind still in the vernacular?
There’s no other word for it, that’s why. Maybe “back it up” or “it starts at
2:38 so start it there…” nah, just rewind your cd or mp3. “seek backwards”]
And the following, while watching them perform and hearing
paige speak of it…
those that know know…. “hey mikey….”
That’s all I thought about or ever think about when hearing
this song, and as sad or happy or whatever this song is… I always laugh a
little when I hear it. (wasted cousins mutually struggling to think of words
and stumbling over verses while it is magically played by a once comatosed
other cousin who was brought out of his drool on the table to “not fuck it up”,
and he didn’t.)
But it’s time to put this instrument down and go to sleep. I
wish it was a long sleep, but I will inevitably wake up tomorrow…
*sigh*
III
Ps… If you have the means, buy on amazon “it might get
loud”… I highly recommend picking it up.
PSS… mr. white, as you have met ‘my boys’… pokey Lafarge and
the south city three… it send shivers down my spine knowing that I knew of that
Son House song as well. You just can’t beat the blues…
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