Have you missed me? It has been...two months since my last...blog. "Confession" sounds better, but that's my Catholic core. Love the good parts, the proscenium, the stelle, the frankincense and myrrh. Ooo, the Latin hymns.
"Tantum ergo" an important influence.
Now, the Contractions have resurrected. And what I would like to address is today's question: "Who do you sound like?" Which was yesterday's question, too. It goes/went like this:
NEW ACQUAINTANCE: So, what do you do?
MYSELF: Er, umm, I'm a musician.
NEW ACQUAINTANCE: Ooo! What do you play?
MYSELF: Er, umm, guitar. And throat. I sing.
NEW ACQUAINTANCE: Ooo! What kind of music?
MYSELF: Er, umm, I don't know. Er, umm...rock, with melody. We started out in the punk scene, but after we learned how to play our instruments, after we got tighter, we sounded more rock. But, beautiful. And powerful.
NEW ACQUAINTANCE: Ooo! Who do you sound like?
MYSELF: Er, umm, I don't know. Er, umm...
Now, the Contractions have a super good-looking website, we've got three produc -- eeoo, strike that -- three tangible representations of the idea which is the Contractions, i.e., two live recordings, and one video of a live performance, and the question is being raised: "Who do you sound like?"
Numero uno: I don't listen to much music.
Numero due: Pretty much numero uno. So, some one else will answer this question. But I would like to muse over early influences, which might sound like a defense, which it is, a bit.
I have not, and never did play air guitar in front of a mirror, trying to be Pete Townshend. My love is pure, and if I haven't already said it, I would gladly have borne his child. His and Cat Stevens. There, my early loves, but I have not and never did, set out to sound like them.
I attended Fillmore West every weekend for at least two years, right after the Monterey Pop Festival. (This is a guess.) I sponged up every band, nearly all of which were British, with the exceptions of Ike and Tina Turner Review, Mountain, and Golden Earring.
The second show I ever saw, was Jimi Hendrix at Winterland. The first show was a relative snore, but it was at the Avalon: Ace of Cups, Black Pearl, and It's A Beautiful Day.
Later that puberty, through those two years or so, I attended seven Who performances, most of which were Tommy sets, and Pete was a god, of violence and expression, and that is something I will admit to: violence, and expression.