CDZA presents 50 years of guitar solos and riffs, performed by Mark Sidney Johnson. How many so you recognize? I knew all of them through the mid-90s, then I was lost. (via Viral Viral Videos)
I was fine with it until he broke the guitar. I just so completely hate that. It's like watching the kid in the fail video of flipping from a trampoline to dunk a basketball and breaking his whole leg and foot backward (or his arm) getting hooked in the hoop (What did he and his friends /think/ would happen?), or imagining someone ripping out a hangnail with a needlenose pliers. I'm like, /NO!/ and my hands fly partway up to protect my head, or to block the sight of it, or to reach through the screen to stop him; I don't know what my hands think they might be able to do then, they react by themselves.
Smashing a Perfectly Good Guitar, by John Hyatt, comes to mind. The song is so funny because it's true. It breaks your heart; even if the guitar they smash is not their good guitar but a cheap one or one in need of repair, somebody could've used it, some poor kid somewhere.
I know people back east where in their youth, in all of our youth, they'd go out in the woods and have a contest of chaining hunting-trip vehicles together, back to back, to bet on which one's truck or jeep or whatever was stronger (!), and sometimes they pulled each other's axles loose, wrecking both vehicles. Same thing. This concept extends to the larger world, covert and overt war. Someone raises something over his head like the ape with the big bone at the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey, except the ape had at least a pass-fair reason. They don't, no good can come of it, and they do it anyway.
Just once I'd like to see the drummer, say, leap over the kick drum, put his hands on the guitar guy's hands, say something soft and wise like, "Hey, man. Hey," and talk him down from the ledge.
1 comment:
I was fine with it until he broke the guitar. I just so completely hate that. It's like watching the kid in the fail video of flipping from a trampoline to dunk a basketball and breaking his whole leg and foot backward (or his arm) getting hooked in the hoop (What did he and his friends /think/ would happen?), or imagining someone ripping out a hangnail with a needlenose pliers. I'm like, /NO!/ and my hands fly partway up to protect my head, or to block the sight of it, or to reach through the screen to stop him; I don't know what my hands think they might be able to do then, they react by themselves.
Smashing a Perfectly Good Guitar, by John Hyatt, comes to mind. The song is so funny because it's true. It breaks your heart; even if the guitar they smash is not their good guitar but a cheap one or one in need of repair, somebody could've used it, some poor kid somewhere.
I know people back east where in their youth, in all of our youth, they'd go out in the woods and have a contest of chaining hunting-trip vehicles together, back to back, to bet on which one's truck or jeep or whatever was stronger (!), and sometimes they pulled each other's axles loose, wrecking both vehicles. Same thing. This concept extends to the larger world, covert and overt war. Someone raises something over his head like the ape with the big bone at the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey, except the ape had at least a pass-fair reason. They don't, no good can come of it, and they do it anyway.
Just once I'd like to see the drummer, say, leap over the kick drum, put his hands on the guitar guy's hands, say something soft and wise like, "Hey, man. Hey," and talk him down from the ledge.
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