I feel like I’m telling on myself when I say that, revealing some kind of fraud, but I’ve come to realize it is part of my story. Thing is, it can only be so long before that kind of mentality puts you headlong into a very thick wall.
Because I did everything impulsively, as hard as I could, for as long as I could, as fast as I could, with just enough musical talent to get by. I thought I needed a Marshall stack to sound good, to have “over-tones” so I borrowed a couple thousand bucks from my best friend, Mike Facchini and I bought one.
I can honestly say that I was a card-carrying indie-rocker in the late 90’s and early 2000’s in a very awesome Portland, Oregon, with The Dandy Warhols in full swing, Modest Mouse, The Shins, Death Cab, Built to Spill, Menomena, Helio Sequence, The Turn-Ons, and the list just goes on and on.
But that’s what my journey has been about: self-knowledge. I could only wish to have the self-awareness he had at 21, at my current age of 41. I think Conor Oberst sums it up pretty well in Lua, “It’s not something I would recommend, but it is one way to live.” Yes, touch the flame, it’s hot, that kind of thing. That is because I am a terribly slow learner. I have always said that my career in music reads like the perfect cliche. But it would be true, and could possibly even help someone else.
This story of chaos, sadness, ambition and more sadness, which spans a few decades, would take a book to write and might not be very good. the shows to 2000 people, the who’s who, the darlings. Through the addictions, the mushrooms, the sold-out hometown shows, the first time on the radio, the gig posters, the best friends, the broken marriage, the chipped teeth, the muggings, the pistol whippings, the grumpy sound men, the tours, the shitty bands, the great bands, the one night stands, the record deals, the money, the drops from the label, the smashed guitars, the broken bones, the bee-bees in the mouth, the van surfing, the tinnitus.