after playing and singing a little on the new guitar over at minna with some peeps hanging (reminder to alberto and liz: you bring your guitars when invited to a jam session), liz, phil and i headed into the mission to see some friends of liz and chuck play.
i hesitate to even mention this for fear of bringing back the pain, but i don’t think i have ever had such a bad reaction to a band in my life. during the opening duo’s set, i began questioning why i would ever set foot in the acoustic singer/songwriter arena again. this guy was dragging me through every girl who had refused to fuck him, his impotence, beer, subject matters that normally i would find immensely entertaining. but this was different. i felt zero empathy. i felt like i wanted to slash my wrists and make it stop. it was sooooo fucking bad.
after they were done, i looked at phil and liz and was feeling quite apart from reality. but then i noticed that they were having the same reaction. i asked if anyone else had had suicidal thoughts during the set. we had all had exactly the same feelings. their songs just made us feel bad. very bad.
normally i applaud any art that elicits strong emotion. not tonight. thanks to the heavenly powers (i’m guessing quetzalcoatl) for taquer??a can c??n. the loving aztec god of carne asada saved my ass at the end of the night.
ADDENDUM: i was im’ing with my brother just now and he typed this:
i read once that mick and keith have bazillions of mopey songs. they say that no one wants to hear that stuff, but they are necessary to write. then keep to yerself and release the feel good rockers
i fully agree. there is a difference between emo and hemo…like hemophiliac songs that uncontrollably bleed your audience of any happiness they had left in them.