I saw this last night. Inspired me to want to pick up the guitar again. He’s written 5000 songs. I’ve written maybe a tenth of that. I haven’t turned on my recorder in two months. I need to finish my songs. Maybe if I advertise it here I’ll hold myself to it.
I saw GBV in Paris once and they sort of bugged me. Screaming to the audience, “Stella Artois is some good fucking beer!” Robert Pollard spinning his microphone like Robert Plant, living the rockstar dream. This was after Mag Earwig came out, not my favorite record. Too big and Foo-fighters sounding. Same thing live maybe. They lose their boombox charm. He’s a real outsider songwriter—living in Dayton, surrounded by people who don’t seem to give one shit about indie rock. Which means he’s authentic as they come, even with the British accent. Somehow all those songs come out of him. Some people just get hit with involuntary talent.
1 comments:
So I held up my end of the bargain: I worked on some songs. Three guesses as to what helped me write lyrics.
Post a Comment