small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: <strong>know your role</strong>

Monday, March 15

know your role

Damn, I’m some kind of brain dead muthafucker today. I can’t think of a fuckin thing to write about. Friday was me and Mito going out to hear some friends play up at Davy’s on Main Street. It was pretty cool; the place was full of paying muthafucker’s, which was great for Davy’s. The last band closed out their set with a very cool rocked out rendition of “Hey Jude”. Mito came back from being up near the stage and told me how some chick was yakking about how she’d never heard the song before and was really surprised to find out that it was done by the Beatles. Silly little piece of quim, some people’s kids need to break out of the mold more and learn that there’s a big world out there. I find it difficult to understand how you can really appreciate a certain genre of music unless you know what to compare it against. It’s like goddamn, dig the metal or rock all you want but how can you fully understand what the fuck you’re hearing unless you’re familiar with what else is out there. It’s like a few weeks ago some of us were hanging out at the bar listening to a metal band when suddenly the bass player had some sort of seizure and popped out a jazz solo. Now, unless your ass is familiar with the jazz thing, how in the fuck are you gonna describe what you just heard to your friends?

“Dude, it really rockin until the bass player yanked out this really odd sounding solo.
“Dude, what kind of solo”?
“Dude, I donno, it was kind’a metal”?

Or the night I went out to hear some loud rock and in the middle of this full out thing, the drummer hit the bridge and did a killer walkup. After the set I walked over to em and asked where’d he learn to do an old-school walkup like that? He told me that on off night’s he’s at all the blues jams tearing it up. Who knew


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