NO MORE Wire Hangers!!!!

The interpretation of music pretends to be a subject heavy enough to be easily introduce to backyard BBQ's and garage band circles. When in reality, it's no different than wading through the massive amount of displayed colors at a Wentworth Gallery. "I believe this piece says this..." Don't know about you but "This..." has led to multiple moments that send stressed out Mom's into a cage filled with rage. Being one that writes lyrics, produces radio commercials and paints on a blizzard white canvas then displays it; I can tell you...100% the people offering a critique, snicker or feel a need to purchase my awkward edges are wrong. Thank God I don't have the balls to release my daily writing in journals so thick the creator of all living things has purchased a Storage Unit three football fields long! We spend so much time analyzing other people's "Art" that being creative evolves into a faceless beast. What if we stopped looking deeper into the meaning of Satisfaction from The Rolling Stones? What would happen to society if radio listeners suddenly felt nothing? The spiritual connection gone! The need to push your right foot deeper into the pedal so the metal carrying the image you've become forgets to mend broken desire, flat ambition and street smart traditions. How about a weekend without labels? Peel it off like a 1970's teen that illegally latched onto a six pack of Miller's and the task turned into proving how un-virgin you weren't... How is it that a punk ass 15 year old knows to call it Classic Rock when nearly everything is new to the path he walks? Don't give me the crap that it's been around him since birth! Music discovery begins when nothing else matters but the sound of the writing instrument that shoved ink into in the veins of a once living tree so deep that a guitar found jealousy. To soothe the pain it plays along with a song that now belongs to the world...and it's there that the unknowing passerby is fed the blood of a thousand creative attempts and for some sick reason the Artist has put a dent in the forehead of content. There's so much musical racism/judgment toward musical art in American Culture that time finds no reason to invest in what could be the next generations Beatles, Sinatra, Plant and Richards. Why should anyone be willing to write, produce then share if the only expression we can offer is to live in a past that can't be changed? But what happens when legacies cross? The Romones performing on the same stage as Eddie Vedder from Pearl Jam. Rollingstone Magazine clearly states The Ramones are perhaps the most iconic New York rock band in history, but when it came time for their final show, they opted for Los Angeles. It was the summer of 1996, and the Ramones had been on the "farewell" trail for about a year. They called their 1995 LP Adios Amigos! and said they'd break up if it wasn't a big hit. It failed to go higher than 148 on the Billboard album chart, and that summer they launched their goodbye tour. During the outing they got big offers to tour South America and play dates on the Lollapalooza festival the following year. The money was too big to turn down, so the farewell tour resumed in 1996. After honoring their commitments, the band decided to film an all-star farewell show on August 6th at the Palace in Los Angeles. They filmed it for a VHS release and invited Lemmy Kilmister, Chris Cornell, Eddie Vedder, Rancid's Tim Armstrong and former bassist Dee Dee Ramone to guest with them. The 32-song set wrapped up with a cover of the Dave Clark Five's "Any Way You Want It" featuring Eddie Vedder. They never played together again. "Doing it in L.A. was ludicrous," bassist C.J. Ramone says in Everett True's book Hey Ho Let's Go: The Story of the Ramones. "A real slap in the face for New York." Wanna see the video? When you get back to 2012 challenge your needs to locate new music even if its Justin Beiber or Country Music's Blake Shelton. Keeping yourself connected to what you grew up with doesn't slow life down...the best part of art...is remembering where you were the first time you heard it... I know exactly when I first discovered Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley of KISS. I purchased Beth on 45. Being from Montana with strict parents that foamed at that mouth at the first drop of Rock... I challenged myself to turn that 45 over and have never been the same. What if I had allowed their musical racism to control my exploration? The video starts here