Sightless Pit’s “Resin on a Knife”
I made this. I’m very proud of it. It’s also the first music video I have made for an established act on an established record label. Dylan and Lee, who are the core members of Sightless Pit, are more commonly known for their work with their main groups, Full of Hell and The Body respectively. If…
mrmoth | Planet Earth (Official Video)
Vermin Womb & Full of Hell at Legends in Cincinnati, Ohio
Our Wedding
Mastodon at the Agora Theatre, Cleveland, Ohio
MBKH
Kaylin Henry and I have an announcement to make:
New Work Up at Michael-Bird.com
New work has been added to both the digital imagery and multimedia sections of my Fine Art site, including pieces from this year’s faculty show that were not included in the exhibition. If you saw this year’s show, the first page of the digital imagery section is the sequence that was…
One from the Archives…
I’ve been going through the basement boxes lately and there’s a fair few good memories stored down there. Was chatting with @HolyMountainPrinting over on Instagram this morning about our shared love of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ Let Love In album. It jogged my memory that I had…
Under Bridges 20190506
Black Fork 20190506
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mrmoth: call on your stars
A song to celebrate a love that survives time and distance and changing circumstances. If the love you feel is genuine, it never leaves you.
mrmoth: under the god
“That men do not learn very much from the lessons of history is the most important of all the lessons of history.” -Aldous Huxley
Though it is hardly a unique sentiment, those who know me personally, know what a profound influence David Bowie was on me. I have spent the last year trying to determine the best way to pay tribute to the artist. There are certainly songs I love more than “Under the God” but few that feel more bleedingly relevant in the current political climate. I am confident this isn’t the last time I will cover him, but it is the song I am releasing on his birthday today.
This song is released EVERYWHERE this week. You’ll be able to listen on streaming services. You’ll be able to purchase it, stream it, shuffle it. All the stuff. It’s his birthday and here is the song. All proceeds from all methods of purchase, etc will go to Southern Poverty Law Center.
To be noted: the first musician I ever collaborated with on mrmoth was Bryan Leighty. We shared a common love of Bowie, and curiously enough, both really love the Tin Machine album (which isn’t that common among Bowie fans). Bryan plays bass on this song and indeed, in recording it, the thing didn’t really come together until I got Bryan’s part on it.
The cover art is by Areej Photography. She’s a brilliant Saudi artist and my friend.
Bidding goodbye to George Michael and 2016
George Michael was a man gifted with multiple blessings: Most notably, he possessed a beautiful, vulnerable voice that could go low and lusty, fierce and funky and then on a moment, soar into the elegant and emotional before settling into the elegiac. His voice was just as versatile authorially as his songwriting craft was refined over years studying pop, rhythm and blues, soul, hip-hop and jazz. Most of his recorded works wouldn’t be complete without visiting each style in some way and it wasn’t just restlessness: he had a dizzying acumen for arrangement in any style that suited him and most did.
Of course, his most obvious gift was that he was physically a very beautiful man, and that gift was a source of trouble for him over the years it seems. His reckoning with his image in the post-Faith era led him to abandon using his face for promotion altogether on his second album, the masterpiece, Listen Without Prejudice, Vol. I. His personal life, while sometimes quite visibly exploited in the press, was a personal one and no one outside of his inner circle likely knows the truth of how he spent his years. At the very least, with the exception of a couple of well-documented relationships, outwardly, and perhaps unfairly, it looked rather chaotic at times.
But this isn’t a music blog, nor a celebrity gossip blog and it shouldn’t be an obituary blog (though 2016 has threatened to turn it into one). This blog is about me and you may well wonder why it is that I am remembering a pop artist like George Michael on this page. Fair question. I’ve not exactly cultivated an image that would belie an appreciation for gay pop singers. Admittedly, it is a little out of keeping with my normal output.
In the hours after Michael’s death was publicized, Twitter switched into its odd, global-funeral-mode and George Michael fans spilled out of the woodwork. I follow former Thelonious Monster and Porno for Pyros bassist, Martyn LeNoble there and he noted, “I love that John Frusciante, @marklanegan @justinmj @justinwarfield and many of my friends share a love for @GeorgeMichael’s music. R.I.P.” These are people who have made aggressive, dark, albeit often beautiful music all speaking to their appreciation of the man’s legacy. So certainly, it cannot be so strange that I appreciated him too? In my own personal CD library a row or two of George Michael CDs sit just in front of Ministry. Those two acts sitting alongside each other there has always made me chuckle. There’s a dichotomous balance in that. I suspect they’d have more in common than most would guess.
I observed in my David Bowie remembrance earlier this year that certain artists served as surrogate fathers of sorts for me. Michael, who actually penned “Father Figure” was not one of these. Much closer to me in age than Bowie, I always rather thought of him as an older brother to my status as an only child. What was special and important about him to me was the way in which he wore his emotional vulnerability and frank sexuality on his sleeve. As a young adolescent, he was essential to traversing the terrain of heartache and lust that goes with those years. Each generation has one of these guys. My parents’ generation had Orbison. I think the so-called millennials have great women who serve that purpose, without any special regard to gender.
To be an artist is to take the most personal of life experience, look at it in different lights and elevate it in an ambiguous way so that many may approach it and find something in it to relate to. Michael was fearless in this. Notably, when he was exposed as gay through his infamous, Los Angeles bathroom arrest, he made a hilarious disco song and video out of it, putting equality for gay people in front of the revelation. He wasn’t seemingly afraid, or maybe he was, but he saw his truth through the doubts regardless.
Over the years, as I have in my small way, tried to champion gay causes, I have sometimes ironically observed that it’s one of my life’s great ironies that I didn’t actually end up gay myself. Certainly, I was accused of being gay frequently when I was young. I was a creative kid who in his small Kansas town, abandoned his football team before the last game of the season for the lead role in the school play. I listened to strange music made by people with wildly creative fashion sense, who sometimes wore make-up and flirted with sexual taboos and indeed, I sometimes mirrored these influences as much as I could get away with.
One of my most visceral memories of my teen years was taking six direct punches to the jaw from the town’s toughest dude, all for the unforgivable sin of wearing a white, naval waistcoat with gold buttons to a nightclub – hey… it was the 80’s. He later let it slip to others that he respected that I just took the shots, without crying or running… Great(?). I wasn’t normally one to not fight back, but the rumor in town was that he had actually stabbed someone and I had presence of mind to not try and make our uneven footing worse. Also, I worried that fighting might end up hurting the jacket.
I’ve always found it easy to be an ally to my gay friends because I never saw a difference between us (apart from the most obvious one). As far as the small-minded people in my town were concerned, I was gay enough. Perhaps, in a less direct way, it was because the people I had selected as family and friends were the ones I identified with and I wanted them to be protected. Certainly in a way I was not, being publicly attacked without cause.
To George Michael, I have a debt. Songs like “A Different Corner” and “Cowboys and Angels” saw me through some of the worst heartbreak a vulnerable young boy can experience. “Jesus to a Child,” and his masterful interpretation of Stevie Wonder’s “They Won’t Go When I Go” have been extremely important songs for me in my adult years. When you’re at the bottom of that ravine, any lifeline thrown to you from someone who’s traversed it and survived it is a blessing. Those are only a handful of songs among a rich catalog of original compositions and nearly definitive interpretations.
I was a lifetime fan and his infrequent, sporadic releases over the latter years were like letters from long lost friend you were once close to but whose path had taken them far afield. I worried for him when his health was threatened on his final world tour. One heard rumors one didn’t want to believe, and even now, I’m not even sure I want to know how his life slipped his grasp. I don’t suppose I will get a choice.
Having lost so many important musicians this year, it becomes apparent how important it is that we have this music. The flesh may not survive, but the spirit is locked in amber in the music, preserved for as long as they can hold the memories. George Michael has so many for me and his passing is an inconvenient yet inescapable reminder that this is only going to continue, eventually visiting everyone we know, until we are ourselves the subject of such remembrances.
It is the way with 2016 that these reminders have been nearly constant, and indeed this week, we’ve been reeling as a new one follows before we can even process the last. It’s too much at times, but it is the way of the future. If life has meaning, it is beautifully revealed in its loss. Our time is short and if we are lucky, we will touch and be touched by others before we pass on. It is only in embracing the new that the passing of others is endured. Goodbye 2016 and those who left us therein. Hello, 2017. Please bring us wonderful new possibilities to replace all the beautiful memories that 2016 has taken with it.
MB44
Ages ago, when I was in high school, instead of collecting signatures in my yearbooks, I would write song lyrics from songs significant to me from that year. As a way of marking the moment. To remember where and who I was just then. Several years ago, I started making mixes to mark my birthdays and sharing these mixes with my friends. So it’s my 44th birthday and I’m sharing the present with you. I hope you enjoy.
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds’ Skeleton Tree
I don’t really do album reviews anymore, but I feel like saying something about this one. To me it’s whole unto itself and I’m not even sure I should be able to hear it. I waited til today to listen to it cause I knew what I was in for.
Music gets pretty abused in the process of selling it but something this personal and honest doesn’t deserve that. It shouldn’t be made to work the streets, if you follow my meaning. Advertising campaigns and vanity and logos and marketing strategies are all inappropriate for this one. Hipsters will be idiots for appropriating this album’s credibility to pad their depth on social media. This isn’t Spotify music. Commercials peppered throughout its running order would be offensive. Its pieces shouldn’t get inserted into your shuffle. I don’t get sanctimonious about too much these days but really: if you aren’t a mess when Else Torp comes and cracks the curtains on “Distant Sky” you’re not paying close enough attention.
I’ve heard a lot of music in my life – maybe too much – but I’ve never heard a record quite like this one. It definitely deserves some reverence. Certainly, it doesn’t deserve ironic detachment. Please don’t take a selfie with it. There’s my 2¢. I’m sure there’s plenty to disagree with.
mrmoth | White Fragility
This was the last song that I demoed for the PPB. It was around the time that Ferguson and Baltimore were exploding. We were looking for a tune that we could pour into everything that we were feeling about the situation. That said, it wasn’t a good fit for the band. In the end, Tim and I agreed it was mrmoth song and not really a PPB tune. So it got filed away and then, obviously, everything changed quite a bit. Flash forward a year, and the same problems are still with us and I was back to feeling the same frustration. Posting and tweeting what I felt about it didn’t really feel like enough. So I returned to the song as a meditation on the subject. The lyrics are the product of a couple years of thinking so hard about it.
These lyrics aren’t typical for me with mrmoth. I normally don’t do politics as subject matter with this project. That said, maybe that’s one of the reasons why I haven’t made many mrmoth tracks lately. I wasn’t interested in profiting by the song/subject matter, so anything anyone wants to pay for it will go to the national ACLU organization.
Bird’s 80s Dance Party
A friend asked me to do one of those Facebook posting challenges. This one was an-80s-song-a-day. But I don’t post anything on Facebook anymore, so I made a mix instead. This would be more than a couple weeks worth of songs, I suppose. And you get to listen to it in one sitting. Lucky you. Songs were selected based on what I’ve been listening to here very recently. Hopefully it’s fun to listen to and only the littlest bit of a bummer. The more things change, etc, etc…
David Bowie
I’ve mentioned to friends many times that growing up without a father, I was afforded a latitude of sorts to model myself after whomever I chose as surrogate. Certainly, there have been many, but David Bowie was the father of fathers in that regard. Lest anyone be confused, no, I never met him. I was only a fan, and I am confident that many of his fans have feelings akin to mine.
In an existence that demands conformity, he didn’t merely assure us that it was okay to be ourselves, he pushed us to be proud of what made us unique. And just as we got our minds around that, he added that we could make ourselves into whomever we wanted to be and completely revise ourselves whenever it simply suited us. So for 43 years, I have done so. The symbol tattooed on my wrist represents chaos. Change is my essence, but that essence was given to me and today, I must express my gratitude for it.
It is a sad truth that many of us creative-types lost our North-Star yesterday, as it became the Blackstar, a singularity collapsing in on itself as it succumbs to its own gravity. In order to be a professional creative, you must have faith in your vision, endure the struggle to realize it, and mute those little, nagging voices that constantly pressure you to conform your vision with what has safely come before. It takes bloody-minded nerve. It takes heroic bravery. It demands clarity of purpose, even if that purpose is merely some instinctive feeling that draws you in an unexpected direction.
Creative individuals go into the unexplored and return with the spoils that others are too fearful or incapable of getting for themselves. All of my life, the example who showed me that there is no territory too far afield has been David Bowie and I never would have had the bravery to take the chances that I have were it not for him. I don’t know that I would have had the faith to finally leave behind my struggles with substances were it not for his example. I don’t know that I would have believed that you could remain vital and creative throughout the whole of a career were it not for him. And these truths are bewildering because on paper, nothing he did should have ever worked out. He took his strangest cracks and made them chasms between himself and the mainstream, which only drew the mainstream irresistibly, gravitationally to him. While he worked hard to maintain his relevance, he never chased it. He just simply reinvented himself in such a way that the mainstream couldn’t possibly ignore.
David Bowie often identified with aliens but David Bowie was not himself an alien. He was a human being and his death reinforces that truth. But being human does not preclude dual status as alien.
Many of us grew up unable to relate to our surroundings, or indeed our own natures. David alone was culturally able to bring our quirks and disconnects into harmony. Without him, this world couldn’t have made sense for many of us. He was as weird as anything gets at times, yet he was famous and loved for it. If he could be so loved by so many, then surely the rest of us aliens could be too. Bowie made it clear the way to earning that love was to be ourselves, as strange and remarkable as we all are at our most essential.
Today, I am undeniably distraught at David Bowie’s passing, but it is the way with fathers that they must die one day. It follows that in his passing away, we have been passed his responsibility: to show all the young aliens we meet that they too can be at home on Earth, that they should be brave enough to follow their visions and be whatever they are and whatever they want to become. We must show them that there is nothing to be afraid of out there but accepting our unrealized selves. For the brighter they shine, the more they will enrich all of our lives.
David Bowie’s relentless persistence, bravery, and dogged creativity are a formidable legacy to be certain. But a legacy is only valid so long as its inheritors work to keep it alive. We have Bowie’s entire life to see, from beginning to end now. Let us keep him and his legacy alive in the way that best befits his memory.
My Dismissal from the People’s Punk Band
I have been dismissed from the People’s Punk Band. What follows is a very long explanation of what happened. Sunlight is the best disinfectant and my position is that it would be best that, rather than let gossip and speculation run amok, I instead speak to what happened with as much honesty as I can offer. Rather than anyone wondering what went down, I present my version of the events for anyone to read. I do not pretend to speak in any way for the rest of the band. I have tried very hard to make what follows an honest account of what went down without casting anyone as a hero or villain. While I am no longer in a band with these guys, I still love them and regard them as brothers. Like any family, our bonds are dynamic and ultimately, those bonds couldn’t be maintained in the form of a band. It is what it is and it is now on us all to deal with it.
My version of the events is as follows:
The afternoon of Thursday, April 16, I returned from a three day business trip in Ohio, hastily choked down a couple of pieces of fruit, walked my dogs and took off for band practice.
Upon pulling up in front of our practice space, I spotted Tim, Jimmy and Ean walking up, all smiles and cutting jokes. It was a sight for sore eyes as I hadn’t seen much of them for a couple of weeks. I smiled back at them. I don’t do that much so it speaks to my sincerity. Work has been keeping me running nonstop lately and it was good to see my friends. I pulled my guitar case and set it on the ground in from of our practice space, running into the coffee shop to get a couple shots of espresso to carry me over my the lack of sleep I brought home from two nights in a hotel. Jimmy very nicely pulled my case and carried it up for me while I finished out my order and said hello to a couple of friends.
Once I got upstairs, our gear was still sitting disassembled from having played the previous Friday. Upon walking up to my spot, Ean informed me that he wanted to try switching our positions on stage. He gave me his rationale, that being that he felt with he and Jimmy singing back-up standing next to each other that they looked like a doo-wop group backing up Tim. More notable than what he was saying was the manner in which he was saying it. His tone of voice and body language were firm. I explained that I didn’t want to switch and explained that among other reasons, I like to move around on stage. He was incredulous at this. Dismissive even. He doubled down and said that he wanted to try this at practice that evening and at the show the following evening and that was that. And he was being firm.
This was pretty out of character for Ean. He’s always been the guy who cut any tension in the room with humor. He hadn’t made a demand out of me or anyone in the year and a half we’d been playing together. I was flatly stunned that he was being so confrontational about something that he wanted to “try.”
Jimmy, who had been carrying equipment up from the street, joined us and mirrored Ean’s statement about them looking like a doo-wop group. The specifics of this language told me that a conversation had happened earlier and when I looked to Tim to see what he thought of all of this, he didn’t make eye contact with me, but he seemed to acquiesce to the idea without needing much information. Clearly a conversation had happened and given that I was getting a solid front on this, it was apparent that I was being handled by the band.
Recognizing that they weren’t interested in having a debate about this, I took a walk. I needed space to clear my head because my emotional response was telling me that I was being disrespected and I needed to get clear of it long enough to look at the situation from a different perspective. As I left the room, Ean asked me if I wanted him to set up my gear for me. He seemed to anticipate what was coming and I took it he wanted to know if I had intentions of walking out. So did I. I really didn’t know just that second.
I sat on the curb out front for about five minutes, reflecting on what had just happened. I tried to take myself out of the situation. I came to understand somewhere along the line, I had been perceived as someone who was unreasonable. No one had ever accused me of that before, but why else would they need the solid front? I asked myself if I was being unreasonable in this situation. I knew too well I had perfectly good reasons for wanting my side of the stage, but I wasn’t being allowed to voice them.
The truth is that I am not a good enough guitar player to really take my eyes off of my guitar. Ean is. Ean can not only play and sing, he can do it with his eyes closed. I’ve always been impressed with that, especially given that his parts are significantly more complicated than mine. I have to look at my guitar and many times during a set I will look to the rest of the band, watching hands, looking to see what Tim is mouthing, making sure we’re all in sync. I have always known these limitations about myself, so early on in our first rehearsals, I made a point of calling the right side of the stage. And it had never been a problem before this demand.
And that was to say nothing of the fact that I do actually move around on stage. Given that Tim is the only other member of the band who moves around, it seemed to be an asset that I could swing around and jump a little when my concentration on my parts could afford it. Once I had loosened up and was starting to do more of this, I asked Tim how he felt about that and he told me he had never had any problem with my stage presence. Point to fact, I had been complimented by him and others in the band and other bands on what I brought to the show. If it was an asset, why was I being asked to go play in half the space, where it would be more difficult and all I could do is annoy Jimmy when he needs to sing backups?
That only brought up another question, which was the whole notion of making our stage appearance more “aesthetic” (which I took to mean, symmetrical). It wasn’t really spreading the mics out to one on the left as the three of them were still going to be grouped, just in a different order on the other side of the stage. This didn’t make any sense and anyway, I knew it wasn’t the move itself that was upsetting me, it was that I was being “handled” the way I was.
Earlier in this version of the band’s history, Tim and I would spend time talking out various decisions, sometimes over lunch, sometimes while he worked on instruments. We would reasonably come to some pretty good decisions and then move on them. Almost all of the time, I felt like I was serving Tim’s will. But a lot of decisions are better made with a sounding board and in the early days of this version of the band, Tim and I would rip through a lot of decisions together while standing in the back of the music store. We thought we were being efficient, but I learned eventually that other members of the band were irritated when decisions were made without including them, despite our convening only once a week.
It occurred to me that maybe in the same way I didn’t understand what I was doing was irritating to them, maybe they didn’t know that what they were doing. It felt like the mature thing to do was to go up and calmly explain what was bothering me. Apparently this was a big mistake.
As I walked back into the space, I explained that I didn’t know if it was a better idea to talk to Ean about this one on one or just put it out in front of the whole band but as I started to explain where I was coming from on all this, Jimmy cut me off, raising his voice, shouting angrily, “This isn’t a big deal. You’re the one that’s making it a big deal.”
I stood there stunned for a couple of seconds. Damn right I was making it a big deal because I was being told to go stand elsewhere on stage despite having a real good reason for wanting to stand where I wanted to stand. Being pushed to the other side of the stage without discussion was an order and it didn’t jive with the relationship I thought I had with these guys. Recognizing that there was no more conversation to be had with the group in that moment, I calculated whether or not I could clear all of this conflict out of my head. I knew I would have only been in the room. I would not have been present. I made the decision to walk out of rehearsal. “I’ll see you later guys,” I muttered, picking up my case and walking out.
When I got home, Rachael was surprised to find me there, and asked me why. As I tried to explain what had happened, I got angry. I realized I had just gotten yelled at for trying to take part in a decision that directly affected me. I felt disrespected. I posted to the private Facebook conversation that the band maintained for in-band communication. I cut and paste it as follows:
“I’ve worked too fucking hard for this band to be disrespected like this. I’m not gonna be bullied or put in a pressure position. It’s not so much the placement as much as how it’s being handled. I just wanted to express how I felt about how this was going down and I was immediately told that I was blowing it out of proportion. If my opinion doesn’t matter then I don’t see why you guys want me in the band. Its obvious that a conversation happened about it and it didn’t include me. I’m not an employee and you guys aren’t my supervisors. No one asked me how I felt about because nobody cared. And I ask myself why I work so hard for this thing if that’s the rationale.”
Nobody responded to that. By the next morning, I texted Tim wondering if I was going to play with them that evening in Topeka. Tim responded, “We are going to play tonight as a four piece and revisit this next week. Your reaction was not well received.” He added, “I think it’s best to discuss this in person next week. Let some time pass.”
So here we are in the next week. Tim and I just talked. I’ve been pushed out of the band as Ean and Jimmy don’t want to be in the band with me. That’s fair. Break-ups don’t require a unanimous decision and I’m the odd man out. So I’m out. The reasoning presented was not really defined for me, but the conjecture was that Tim thought maybe I was too assertive with my opinions and that maybe I didn’t leave room for discussion. In my defense, I felt like everyone who has a strong opinion about a point should be as assertive as I am and that the differences should have been debated. Disagreements often boil down to better choices. In retrospect, I think I failed to recognize that no one was really debating the things we disagreed on and the reason was that no one thought I wanted to hear them. I’ll need to learn from that. It’s a fair point, I guess. It would have been more productive if someone could have told me that this perception was there. No one ever did until I was out.
So now that I’m out, and if you’re actually still reading this, I want it known that I do not mean the band any ill will. I recognize that I have a part to play in this even if I don’t totally understand what I did wrong just now. I derived no sense of importance or superiority from working as hard as I did for the band. I’m nobody. I worked as hard as I did for the singular and exclusive reason of my love for these guys. It was first as gratitude for my friend Tim who invited me to be in the band. Then, as I worked with and got to know the rest of them, it became a way to express my gratitude for them as friends as well. I don’t know what success looks like for an aging punk band, but I had hoped we would all get to that whatever it is together. And I continue to want that for them now that they’re going on without me.
Jimmy Kegin is to be appreciated as a top-rate bassist, who not only has a brilliant sense of how much melodic potential there is for bass lines, but one that keeps razor sharp time. And on the rare occasion when he makes a mistake, it’s only because he’s bringing more intensity than his bass can handle. In all the ways you want bass guitar to be the bedrock that a song propels off of, Jimmy delivers the goods. Not only that but he’s got a crazy memory for parts (going back YEARS) and I would be amused at anyone telling him they’re the PPB’s biggest fan. Jimmy is PPB’s biggest fan. That’s not conceit on his part, but sincerity. We didn’t have the “hammer” logo finalized for more than a month before the guy had it tattooed on his arm. He means what he’s doing and he’s the hard-beating heart of this band.
I think Ean Kessler has been slowly feeling more and more comfortable with the limelight and he has rightly begun to claim it. He’s a hot shit guitarist who remains self-deprecating despite knowing very well how good he is. There are few things you can do on a guitar in front of him that he won’t quickly disassemble and play back for you but improved. If the band’s current plan to continue on as a four piece holds firm, he’ll have to revise the guitar parts for the tunes, but if anyone can do it, he can. He’s pretty clever. Watch that guy.
Following two amazing drummers into this band, Jason Meier had a pretty stacked challenge on his plate the second he walked in and he’s just hit the ground running. He learns songs faster than I understand the component parts I’m hearing. The period when he joined where we were asking for minor corrections was short, and the time we were watching him do amazing things with our jaws dropped open was near instantaneous. He took brilliant parts, learned them frontwards and backwards and found room for minor improvements. In all the ways you hope a line-up change can result in greater reach for a band, Jason gave us amazing flexibility and allowed the tunes to really take off.
Tim Mohn is one of my best friends. Lots of people love Tim. The only reason I stacked this band on top of the too many things I already have to do was because I love Tim. I was grateful for his invitation to join and all I wanted to do the entire time I was in the band was help build it into what he wants for it. He’s sincere as a heart attack, and if anyone can stubbornly push through the insane odds that hang over any band becoming successful, it’s this guy. We have bonded over a common perception of the political landscape and commiserated and collaborated and turned our frustrations into a mission to speak our complaints at the current state of political and social dysfunction. I would have this guy’s back through hell or high water. As I say, this is news to no one. Everyone loves Tim.
So that’s that. What plans do I have for the future? I don’t know. I have some rough drafts, but it’s not the time to talk about that stuff anyway. I’ll miss my band and the crazy adventure it’s been so far, but we’ll all make the best of it.
Thanks for reading all this.
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