It was probably Spring break. I was home and mid-thaw from spending the winter knee-deep in snow at
Now, me liking a musician that hadn’t been hand fed to me by one of my siblings was unheard of. My childhood is not recalled by how old I was or what year it happened to be, but rather, which band or album I (and my siblings) was obsessed with at any given time. Each of them had been responsible for one super great obsession.
Sarah aka The Morning Drive Phase: Blizzard of Oz and Houses of The Holy
Mary aka The I Love Calvin Broadus Phase: The Chronic
Angelo aka The Rap is Crap Phase: Metallica, namely, Master of Puppets
Tim aka The Kinder Phase: Little Bunny FooFoo
I never had the need to develop my own musical tastes, as my sisters and brothers were clearly holding it down for me. But being under 20, and over 800 miles away will cause you to establish your own idea of what is awesome. Ben Folds was making me play air-piano way hard and I couldn’t wait to get back to Cali and show the sibs my new moves.
The day I got home, I was sent to the valley to pick up the baby brother from school. Lil Tim was a mess of burgundy with gold trimmings and smelling like a pep rally as he hopped in the passenger’s seat of the Chevy Blazer. We did the customary exchange of yelling nicknames at each other (“Tim-Tam!” “Smellanie!”), and headed back toward the 405.
He asked me how college was going and I asked him how Molly* was. I answered that college was still cold and he answered that he wanted me to stop asking him how Molly was every time we spoke. Once the formalities were out of the way, I decided to lay it on him. We had just entered the turn into
“Tim, check this out.”
I pressed play and turned the dial clockwise.
“Song for the Dumped” comes out of the gates like a 2-ton Brahma bull with mad cow disease. It begins with the kind of musical gusto and hysteria that most songs take 2 or 3 verses to build up to. A veritable free-for-all of violent strikes to the piano that cause your neck to joyously whiplash in lunatic rhythm for almost 4 minutes.
I looked over at Tim who seemed more horrified at my frenzied antics than impressed by my new favorite song. Fudge. I blew it. I mean, I don’t know what I had expected.
Or wait... Yes I do... I expected Tim to be completely taken with the music, magically know the words, and wildly sing-a-long with me while we sped down the 118 to our
I didn’t call home very often when I was in
I was back home the day after classes ended for the Summer. I went to visit Tim at work and bring him a sandwich from The Hat. I walked into his mini-office and heard “Philosophy” blasting through the speakers of a boom box sitting on top of the file cabinet. Sitting at the desk was Tim, mouthing the words and feeling it. Like, for real.
This was 10 years ago.
Tonight, Tim-Tam and I are going to see Ben Folds beat the shit out of his piano live for our first time. No doubt, we will be completely taken with music, magically know all the words, and wildly sing-a-long.
PS Thanks, Eric.
*Molly is the girl Tim had a crush on for about 1 week in the third grade.
