Making come true our modest impossible dreams.
Stuck in public school classrooms at age 15.
Those long hot days just before the summer...
Knowing that we're stuck here...
And there's something happening somewhere.
Knowing we know we gotta get there.
It's true what they say...
Death is more perfect than life...
That's why we already died.
What could have been?
We don't wanna know.
Tonight we'll get our kicks.
Tonight we're all letting go!
'Cause we're all Dead Ramones!
Sore back!
Sore feet!
A ragtag army and we're sick in the heat.
We're not pretty and we're not rich.
We're gonna hafta fucking work for it.
It's our life!
We do what we choose!
Black Jeans.
Black Shirt.
Black Shoes.
Mom and Dad still don't approve.
Twenty eight shows.
28 days.
Pulling up new rogues all along the way.
I'm just another face in this desperate youth parade.
And all the bunk beds locked doors, hardwood, sweat,
Guts, skateboards, cold war bomb shelter basement screams, no sleep, good dreams.
We're playing hard as we can and a whole lotta time stuck in the van.
Reading the graffiti on every bathroom wall in truck stop fast food hell.
Save me from ordinary.
Save me from myself.
Another punk rock summer came and went
Now I just wanna go back home and turn up my stereo
Until the rhythm melts my bones 'cause I'm a Dead Ramone.
D.E.A.D.R.A.M.O.N.E.S.
A fantastic song, and one that exemplifies the reasons why we love the music we do as much as we do. It's about passion, it's about emotion, it's about catharsis, and it's about the raw, heartfelt ideals that guide it all. It's about the meanings greater than the music itself, and the freedom that the music represents. A harmless pop diddy that enters your ears with a mildly catchy bassline that you tap your foot to means little if it's devoid of meaning or substance for the listener to lock onto. Sure, it has an appeal, but its appeal is purely cosmetic, like putting lip-gloss on a mannequin. Ultimately, the great music has appeal that transcends the basic equation of guitar + bass + drum = musics. Great music has a soul, something intangible brought on by an emotional core that makes the listener feel something, good or bad. And not just "lightly-bob-your-head-and-tap-your-foot" good, good as in reaching an emotional connection, a direct sense of relatability with whatever it is you're listening to. 'Without that, it's just masturbation.'
Anyway, this rambling was brought to you by another listen to Modern Life is War's Witness, of which a more substantive review with link will be up tomorrow.
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