Where You Can Make Bread

Posted: July 24, 2014 in Uncategorized

Once in a while, you get caught on the internet doing something you know you shouldn’t be doing. And so, I find myself when I should be blogging, writing, reading, going through the tweets of a respected sportswriter as he questions the validity of American rock and roll, I find myself, clicking through the conversations, browsing a shortened URL that leads to an old Talking Heads album. Investigating the intersection of funk and rock, of jazz and hip hop, wondering about these cross-pollinated moments of culture that seem to burn bright like a flare before fading into nothing but smoke, as people feel that their art has to be defined solely by the artist and not by the art that proceeded it, as if humanity has a history that does not follow a line from the past to the present to the future, but rather is a collection of unrelated vignettes collected together because of some kind of thematic relevance or inspirational prompt. It is not so. We are inextricably linked to one another, to strangers, because of a common ancestry and a common hierarchy of needs and wants. The guitar gathers dust in so many bedrooms.

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