ART IS

Art is the product of what you hate to love. Or, what you love but don't or can't have. Or the love you've given up or lost - missed opportunities. These and slight variations are what makes me produce what I have made. There is creation strictly for love's sake, but the shit's usually a little weak because if you unconditionally love something you're better off just loving it, dammit, don't waste time creating art about it! Love it, her, him, don't fucking waste time putting pen to paper, lens to life, music to air. Remember, there's no pain, no gain. End of story.

Part 1: King of the Castle

A few days ago I gave a little back story as to the foundation of what makes up my musical DNA, that is, I told you how The Beatles always seemed to be around, playing (not live), when I was growing up. All music is compared to the Beatles in some way, specifically: Does it make me as happy as their music does? I don't literally say this, but if there is an ultimate watershed, this is is.

In two posts I'm going to talk about two bands: Dave Matthews Band and blink 182, both of which had a profound effect on the young me -- and one of these two still really, really does!

I remember driving home from Sagamore Hill - you know, the famed Long Island home of Teddy Roosevelt? - with my mom and my sister, when I was about thirteen years old, and "Crash" by DMB came on the radio. Now, at this point most in my life my music listening habits were regulated to, A) whatever my parents listened to, and B) Weird Al Yankovic. I love Weird Al - in so many ways he's a genius - but I wouldn't quite consider him part of my musical journey. Sure, I love comedy nowadays, but that's more of what Weird Al is to me, comedy, humor. It just happens he choose music to get laughs.

OK, so we were driving along, the sun was shining, and on came "Crash Into Me" and, right away, the tune really thrilled me. Even now I remember the day, listening to it in the car, going to Mario's Pizzeria thinking about the song, humming the "I'm the king of the castle" part Dave does at the end. I knew I had to have it, my parents knew I had to have it, so I used their credit card to buy it dirt cheap on Half.com.

The next few days sucked. Waiting for that package. It was almost as bad as waiting for Pokemon Blue to come in the mail. By Saturday morning the disc still hadn't arrived, and as I got myself ready to go to a Bat Mitzvah - I think I had a little bit of a crush on the bat mitzvahee - I was pissed the fucking thing was still in transit.

So I danced, acted like a jackass thirteen year old all day, was pretty tired at 7 PM when someone's mom picked me up -- BUT WHEN I GOT HOME "CRASH," DAVE MATTHEW'S SECOND LP, WAS WAITING FOR ME. Didn't even change out of my nice clothes. I put that thing on my discman and listened to the entire record, pining for my young Jew crush as I followed along with each and every lyric printed in the CD booklet, straight to the end of "Proudest Monkey."

DMB was the first band I got hooked on, ON MY OWN. No one else played it for me. My mom or my dad weren't into it. I was going to have to turn THEM on to it (Mom/Dad: "The music is nice but I don't like his voice/lyrics."). This was my band, I discovered them, I bought all of their records and inhaled them, they were mine. DMB is significant because of the independence I discovered, the thrill of choosing what music to listen to. And also the feeling it invoked in me. I remember being really emotionally involved in "Crash," feeling like it was totally how I felt about that girl.

Part of enjoying music is about that search for something new, and when it's good - when it's emotionally resonant - the discovery is almost spiritual, and thrilling to boot. I don't listen to DMB on a daily basis anymore, but I don't need to. I listen to the occasional song every once and a while, though no new stuff for me. I can't abide people who are constantly thrilled with this guy, even though I realize the power and allure of his songs because I was there, but I was a thirteen year old, not a 25 year old U of F grad who still swoons when they hear that Dave is king of the castle. It was a jumping off point. The beginning. You gotta start somewhere and I'm totally happy Dave got me to where I am today.

"The Forever War" by Dexter Filkins

The book is a love song about Iraq. I quote the "Acknowledgments" section of "The Forever War," last paragraph:

"I fared better than many of the people I wrote about in this book; yet even so, over the course of the events depicted here, I lost the person I cared for most. The war didn't get her; it got me."

Love is a forever war. That's what it means to be in Iraq and Afghanistan for seven years. I know the feeling. This is a love story, and it's hard, you hate missin' it, but what a story it is.

PROLOGUE: Happinness Is A Warm Beatle

Guinness anyone?

Music and me. My history, as seen (heard?) through the music I've loved throughout the years. This is the beginning.

I said I was going to start with my formative years, 13 years old or so, but I think we just need a bit of prologue first, to understand everything that follows:

I grew up in household where the Beatles seemed to be in everything. The air, the water, the food I ate. You name it, the Beatles were in it.

To say my parents love the Bealtes is true. They love the Beatles. But they're not obsessed or anything. They're not idiots. They don't have all the collectibles, just the music. Sure, we have the occasional Beatles coaster or magnet, and yes, we have pretty much all the DVDs and CDs (remastered mono box set status: still waiting), and I'm sure my mom can be moved to tears by them at certain moments, but that's as it should be. They love the music and definitely enjoy the history of the band; seeing the band play, talk, laugh, interact with each other; the trivia...Basically if a Beatle is involved, they're interested. Not blindly, not like a dumbassess. They just love the band because they make them happy. It's their favorite band, man, since the Beatles were around, since probably, I'd assume, the first time they heard their music.

So Beatles' music was always playing. There's a great video of me as a one year old just chillin' by a speaker with "Helter Skelter" blasting at full volume, my mom taping away as her son experiences hearing loss and, possibly, brain damage. It's fucking awesome. Best thing my mom ever did, but she was/is always doing things like that.

The Beatles are the touchstone. Any music I listen to and talk about is measured...not necessarily against them, but with them in mind as perfection. As what music should be. As what makes me happiest, just like my folks, becauase I am a second generation Beatle fan, born and bred with the Beatles since before I can remember.