Monday, August 10, 2015

Weekend Warrior

     Let's be honest about something, every person in the world knows somebody who's in a band. Everyone. We're not in the 1950s anymore, when something like that was weird and shocking. It's everywhere. Any given city has literally hundreds of bands, of all different kinds, operating at any given moment. Everyone knows that guy in a band. Sometimes it's the guy who's a little older, works hard all week, then spends his weekends down at the local pub jamming Zeppelin covers with his buds. Or maybe it's the 20-something hipster, meticulously crafting synthesized backing tracks for his poetic lyrics that he pretends are too quirky for the mainstream, but secretly hopes for that lucrative record deal. Or it could be the metal guy, bashing away in his practice room, saving up money to buy his band on to that show that he just KNOWS is gonna be the one that finally breaks them, despite their style of music being horribly dated. Yes, everyone knows one of those people in a band.

     I'm not one of those fucking people.

     I have no delusions about having any sort of success. I don't work all week so I can go jam with my friends and have a good time. I jam with my friends because if I didn't, you'd all be fucking dead. I have so much pent up rage, so much crippling depression, so much unrequited love, that if I didn't have some way of letting it all out, they probably would have locked me up in some institution years ago. I have failed at every single thing I've ever set out to do. I've made horrible choices about every single aspect of life. My career path is a dead end. I'm going to be in debt until the day I finally meet my merciful end. The only thing I have is music. All those other guys will never understand the sickening beauty of those blast beats reverberating through my chest. Guitars that sound like raw noise to the average person's ears sound like salvation to mine. The feeling of my bass strings tearing at my fingers until the flesh is so raw they feel like they'll tear open and spill out my blood at any moment. Most importantly, they'll never know how it feels to open my mouth and let all the hatred, all the failure, all the sadness, all of it, the feeling of letting all that shit come exploding out. Better than any drug, any therapy, anything. Absolute catharsis.

     My music is not a fucking hobby.

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