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Buttercream
When I think of Taleesha in
those days, I see her looking out past my shoulder...
9-19
- It's a well-known
fact that all guitarists secretly wish they could be
drummers.
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- If you ever find
yourself at a jam session, band practice, or soundcheck -
keep your eye on the guitar player. He'll be the one
intently watching the drummer, waiting for him to get up
from his seat and step away for a moment.
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- And when that
moment comes and the chair behind the kick drum is empty,
the guitarist will be the one who 'nonchalantly'
sits down at it and starts messing around with
things.
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- To a guitar
player, a drumset looks like a big toy that's just
begging to be played with. It has something to do with
the way a guitar player's head is wired. Guitars are, at
their core, very simple instruments: you hold notes down
with one hand and strum with the other... simple.
Drumsets, on the other hand are a wonderland of
playthings and noisemakers. Not to mention the fact that
they have all these attachments, clamps, valves, pedals,
and things hanging off of them. It's like putting a
little boy in front of a fire truck.
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- Guitarists
don't understand drums. They want to, but they just
don't.
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- Drummers know
this, so that's why you'll always find them carrying
their sticks wherever they go.
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- It's not that
drummers are mean, it's more the fact that drumsets are
expensive pieces of equipment, and have a frequent habit
of getting broken if left in the care of a six stringer
too long. This can be a problem, especially right before
a performance. As a result, there's only so long that a
drummer will let you mess with his instrument before he
moves you off.
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- So if a guitarist
is messing around with drums while the drummer is close
by - they will sorta paw at the drums -- hit them too
softly, or gingerly brush at them with hesitant
fingertips. If a guitar player hits a cymbal, they will
mute it immediately, because that's the sound that will
immediately bring the drummer running. If you happen to
be the guitarist unlucky enough to be caught crashing
your drummers cymbals (and believe me, I've been that guy
plenty of times), they will shoo you away from the set
like a mother scolding an eager child away from something
expensive and ceramic.
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- The reason for
this is that guitar players want to bash on drums as hard
as they can. Guitar players like the sounds of cymbals
being splashed as violently as possible. Guitar players
like to swing their arms around, twirl sticks on their
fingers, and make explosion-type sounds whenever
possible. Guitar players don't understand that you can
get these sounds without attempting to break the drum in
half, or putting a hole through it. But to be totally
honest, guitar players don't care about all of
that.
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- Guitar
players just like to hit things too
hard.
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- Late Tuesday I
ventured out into the night, one hand on the steering
wheel while the other fumbled through a wallet to make
sure that I had enough cash on hand to buy the gallon of
milk that was at the root of this particular
excursion.
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- I drove on, the
sounds of the Gap Band pulsing from the speakers in the
back of the car:
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- Ain't
got no car
Gotta ride the bus
All the way home, y'all
Gotta listen to Gus fuss...
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- Wanting something
a little more groovy, my hands move towards the fast
forward button on the tape player, deftly dropping the
wallet into the passenger seat while my other hand
executed a lane change.
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- As the music
skipped by at hyperspeed I wondered to myself -- How long
did it take me to learn the trick to fast forwarding a
cassette on instinct? When did I acquire the Jedi
reflexes that allow me to fast forward and rewind
cassettes for unspecified lengths of time and then stop
them at the exact moment where the song I want to hear
starts right at the beginning?
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- I decide that
it was probably the same time that I mastered the method
of shaking an aspirin bottle so that two, and only two
pills jumped out into my waiting palm.
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- A there is a click
as the tape returns to normal speed.
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- Out-stand-ing
Girl you knock me out
Ex-ci-ted
...Makes me wanna shout
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- It's strange to me
that whenever I find myself leaning back into my car seat
to relax in the comforting arms of the upholstery -- I
can rarely remember myself leaning forward. All I know is
that whenever a good song comes on the stereo in the car,
I find myself leaning back into the seat so that I can
enjoy it.
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- I like the Gap
band. Despite being second rate P-Funk rip off artists,
I've always dug their stuff.
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- I add my own voice
to the harmonies of the chorus while I drum out the beat
on the steering wheel. Streetlight reflections race along
the hood, up the windshield and over the back of my car,
like seaweed floating over an approaching
wave.
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- I'm the only one
on the road. It's barely 12:30 in the morning, but the
streets are empty. Why does this disappoint me?
Jacksonville is a fairly large city, where are all the
people exploring the night? There should be more people
out at this hour..
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- Am I
really alone in this?
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- (Absently
I notice that I'm hitting the wheel just a
little harder than I actually need
to...)
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- The all-night
supermarket approaches on the left side of the road ahead
of me. The parking lot is empty except for a pair of
police cars. The cruisers are parked side by side with
the drivers side windows rolled down so that the officers
can talk to each other without having to get up from
their seats.
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- I'm not
speeding, but I slow down anyway.
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- The song is only
half finished...
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- Ahead of me the
streets are empty, except for a line of silent yellow
spots shining down every couple of feet. I can just see
inside the window of the supermarket from the road. It
looks like a solitary clerk is pushing a broom
around...
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- Sometimes
the atmosphere sealed inside your car is like water
lingering from a hot bath. Sometimes you don't want
to get out, even if you've already finished
cleaning up.
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- My mind wanders.
The streetlights beckon.
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- There's another
all night market near the beach...
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- As I reach the
expressway there are more lanes on the road. I'm able to
open the engine up a little.
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- My mind is
pregnant with thoughts and frustrations. It's as if
there's a message in the fact that I'm the only one who
seems to be out here at this hour. It's as if there's a
meaning in the fact that I'm enjoying driving to the
store more than I'm looking forward to buying the
milk.
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- I don't have the
words for it. I can't seem to find the right colors to
brush onto the canvas.
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- Things
I need to change, things I need to say...
Things I need to hear, things I need to realize aren't
really that important
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- It was a good day.
A good day followed by a magical afternoon. It felt like
something that hadn't happened in a long, long
time.
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- Yet somehow it
feels somber that I'm still awake experiencing it by
myself. For reasons I can't fully get my hands around, It
worries me that I try so hard to try and make these
magical days last as long as they possibly can, try to
stretch them out farther than they really need to go.
It's as if I'm worried that I only have so many of them
left available to me, which simply isn't the case.
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- But here I am --
pedal to the floor, Gap Band on the stereo, speeding
towards the east in the hope that the sun will wait just
a little longer for me...
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- Give me just a
little more time so I can squeeze all the life I can out
of this milk run...
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- God,
I wish someone else was driving around at this
hour.
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