The life of the hired guitarist is at times an interesting one to say the least. Many tasks are expected from you as the hiree and the performer.
Some women decide to cut their hair short for a more managable and stylish look. Some men decide to grow their hair out slightly to obtain that ‚ÄúI‚Äôm adventurous‚Äù look. I do so much, I don‚Äôt even have time to cut my hair.
It is late enough for me to know that looking at the clock will only make things worse. There is always a point in the night where you realize that the time doesn‚Äôt matter. It‚Äôs nighttime‚Ä¶that is all. I live in a small duplex in what some would call a retirement community.
Listen: Since I‚Äôve been back from the tour I did with Every Time I Die, I‚Äôve been basically bombarded with emails, postcards, feather-pen-inked salutations and occasionally bumped into cruisin‚Äô the mean streets of downtown Wilmington, with people all wondering the same wonder: What to do about filling in on drums for Every Time I Die?
In my line of work you meet a lot of interesting people. Some more interesting than others. It seems that these days the average music fan feels that it is necessary to “out weird” the musicians in hopes that they will be remembered by the people they hold so dearly.
What to do about death metal‚Ä¶is this even a question? I suppose it is now, because I’m writing this short essay, however, it‚Äôs a question that I’d rather leave answerless. Why?