why i listen.

"The band brings themselves to you in a continual state of sousing - with beer, sweat, the kind of body odor that women are still drawn to, cigarette smoke, adulation and a healthy cut of the heavy stuff that's rubbed deep into their fiber.

There's languish and strength in the words that rise from the pits of his body to fume out into the open air, slaking themselves of any saggy melancholy and indenturing themselves to a guy who's worn his skin a time or tow, gathered an ass-whupping on occasion and endured more than his fair share of broken hearts.

He has sexy down, but most definitely not in the way you're thinking. It's his for demonstrating the realism that can sneak up on you if you just let it fuck you up a little bit.

Their hands were clammy with oiliness and dirt, their nails were dark underneath. All of this means that they were in the finest form to play their music - they were their own music to a degree.

They do what they do not for anyone other than themselves, sort of like how the bellies of trees in Maine, Vermont and New Hampshire don't necessarily mean to turn the colors of indefinable splendor during the early fall months, but they do it anyway, without hesitation, giving it, all of it away for free."

I didn't write any of this. I guess that the point of a blog is to write your own stuff, huh? But man, somebody else did, and he (maybe she) wrote it damn well. And that's worth sharing. Words, we have to share them. Like love, every single genuine feeling, compassion and sorrows. Because we are all in this together.

you can read the entire article here.