I found I don't really listen to music that much anymore. Apart from the rare times my iPod is actually charged while heading out to go skiing or climbing or on a road trip, I haven't had the drive to listen to anything. The thought of listening to music is an afterthought only arising when the local public radio station is annoying me with a phone-a-thon or forgettable acoustic con whiners. In fact, I have two 100 packs of ear plugs (one at home, one at school) to further insulate myself from sounds that come from outside my inner dialog. I'm embarrassed by this fact. Inquiries about my musical tastes are met with "I don't know"s and general insecurity. I'm afraid to say a band's name less because their recent albums have sucked and more because the name comes to mind only by way some sort of remorse for the loss of a feeling. (Thank you against me)
Dan Friel came out with a new album and it is most confoundedly better than silence. I may not be able to read or talk to other people or think when I'm listening to it, but it's outweighs that loss by a metric-shit-ton. Somewhere between Street Horssing, Ghost Town, and the vocal free sections of Tobacco albums, Total Folklore and the almost 13 minute track Ulysses remind me of what is was like to be proud about what I was stoked on. Close your beautiful eyes and imagine being in the middle of a Bad Religion moshpit with all the 30+ year olds in white shirts and Dickies shorts. It's all very intense, especially that one guy at 5'6 that is tossing you around like the luggage at the airport he loads for Southwest for a living. Except this time you're not 15 and scared. You're smiling, laughing and screaming and your lungs are burning from both the crushing open palm blows and the cheering you can't stop.
Who knows, I might actually use my 404, go to shows I hardly know anything about, and like talking about music again. Thanks Dan for another album of music that gives me hope in music. Now come play a show this side of the Mississippi so I can get a sore neck and talk in a whisper for a week after.
