My neighbor Tony died sometime in the past few days. He was a man about the neighborhood. Everybody knew him and liked him. Even so, he died so alone that the cops had to bust down his door to confirm it.
This isn't really a song, just a spontaneous chant for Tony, a guy who might not have realized how many people will miss him.
Tony had started cancer treatment a month or two ago so this wasn't a big surprise. He didn't seem sick last time I talked to him, just a little bummed about the prospect of chemo and radiation treatment. Lot of good it did him. Read it all
Turn it up loud enough to do inner ear damage. It's worth it.
Listen with an ear toward irony.
There's one over in the shop too.
Don't forget to learn how to play the guitar. Not only is it the smartest thing you'll ever do, but you'll be helping your favorite starving artist.
(The guitarists plug in and tune up as the drummer patters on the skins, impatient.)
Then we flip on the recorder start playing. Nothing of keys, chords, or structure. No words, just music, immediate, vital, soul-healing. And we jammed, and it was most excellent. And I listened to it later, and it was good. And I was very pleased.
So I thought, "I shall share my bounty with the world, and 47 people will appreciate it verily, and those are the only 47 people in the world about whose opinion I give half a fart for they are good people, smart people, people ahead of their time like me."
It doesn't get really "good" until about three minutes in after we start to feel each other. At about four minutes in and six minutes in, the wheels seem to come off as I lean over toward Luke and say, "Give me the lead, man." He either didn't hear me or couldn't find the groove (most likely the former) and I re-take my rightful place on this jam as rhythm, though I couldn't resist a bit of noodling.
I thought about cutting this down to a five-minute thing since most people won't "get it" in its current form. Then I was like, "You know what? Fuck it. What am I, a goddamn greedy-ass parasite record company selling shit on a stick to stupid children who couldn't tell their private parts from a corn dog if you lit them on fire?"
The people who will enjoy this deserve it in its entirety, and as for the rest of ya', well, what can I say -- I don't give a fuck what you think. Go back to your Bimbo Spears and Failout Boys and Kings of Lame-o and Moldplay and all that other commercial bullshit. Good riddance. Not my problem that you would rather be a sucker consumer than listen to (or, even better, make your own) MUSIC.
Oh, and if you like this, check back. I got a couple more hours, much of which is even better. Wait 'til you hear the version of "Watchtower" that came out of this session. We proved that Hendrix didn't, in fact, do every amazing thing that can be done with a guitar, a lot of electricity, and that song.
Do you want to learn to play the guitar or just get better? (Disclosure: Your purchase through that link helps fund our studio sessions.)