Reminiscing...

My wife thinks I should write a book about my experiences in the world
of hipster music. It really isn't a very interesting story - never
got anywhere close to experiencing anything like success. Opened for
Nirvana once. Had my guitar broken by Calvin Johnson. Whoopie

But I'm going to give it a try. I will be posting things as they come
back to me at my blog at:

mattlove1.blogspot.com

to hear the story of the guitar breaking set to music, visit

www.soundclick.com/bloodparadise.

When I get enough of them, I will gather it together and call it a
book. A couple of random thoughts from the upcoming smash hit:

People think that bleeding onstage is some kind of sign of punk rock
authenticity. I did it many times, and I'm a pretty mild mannered
guy. It's easy when you are playing a Gibson G3 Grabber bass (Gene
Simmons model, can't get much more punk than that, can you?!) with the
bridge guard removed. There's lots of things to snag your hand on that
will cut it up nicely, lots of blood, you don't even feel it until
afterwards. There is a little bit of an altered state that comes with
playing music onstage.

I've ripped fingernails off far enough back to bleed like a mofo.
that hurts more, even while it's happening - but still the opiate of
being onstage suppresses the pain pretty effectively. It's not really
a big deal.

A couple of days ago I was reading an article about great 80s group
The Gang of Four (recently reformed). At one point they thought one
member had contracted a serious disease from being spit on by adoring
fans. What a disgusting practice – perhaps the worst thing about punk
rock, aside from all the heroin deaths. I'm glad it never caught on
in Olympia. I would have hosed the little shits down with Lysol and
Listerine if they ever spit on me. Getting spit on isn't painful, but
it's disgusting as hell.