One of my favorite things to do is listen to music (insanely loud). I grew up constantly surrounded by music. My dad played guitar and sang, and my lullabies were “Rain Drops Keep Falling on My Head” and “Puff the Magic Dragon.” When my mom remarried, my teenage years were set to the soundtrack of my step-dad’s Iron Maiden and Rush albums. Once I married a metal drummer, it was pretty much the end of my mother’s hope that I would one day eschew the loud, testosterone-fueled world of rock.
This week, I got to see my personal music hero, David Bazan, live for the first (but hopefully not the last) time. It was a small show and my husband and I sat at a table by the side of the stage about 15 feet from him. And it only cost $12.
David Bazan is so fucking awesome, I can’t really even explain it. Suffice it to say that I do feel a lot of cheesy, cliche things when I listen to his music. I can relate to the despair and darkness, the struggles with identity, the frustration with society. His album Curse Your Branches came along at a particularly difficult time in my life, and helped strengthen my resolve when I told my parents I am (and pretty much always have been) an atheist.
Seeing him live was transcendent. A truly memorable, inspiring experience.
So raise your glass (of whiskey) to your favorite musician and try not to blow your speakers this time.*
*Potentially semi-interesting note: the car I got on my 16th birthday, which I still drive almost 10 years later, had its speakers blown while I was listening to Eighteen Visions and doing some pretty outrageous steering wheel drumming. I’ve never had them replaced (because I’m both cheap and broke).