Subtitles section Play video
-
My mother tells me I was born to applause. The morning of January 14, 1969, there was
-
a class of young doctors in a small delivery room in Warren, Ohio, there to witness their
-
first live birth. As I was born, the room burst into applause.
-
Hanging upside down, covered in blood, screaming as I'm being spanked by a complete stranger.
-
Perhaps the most appropriate preparation for becoming a working musician.
-
So it wasn't long until I had my first guitar, an old Sears Silvertone with an amp built
-
into the case. It smelled like an old attic full of mothballs
-
and burning wire. But it instantly became my obsession.
-
It became my religion. The reward of playing a song from beginning
-
to end without making a mistake. Well, that was enough to feed me for weeks.
-
The discovery of a new chord or a new scale could make me forget about that kid at high
-
school who wanted to kick my fucking ass. I starved.
-
My hands bled. If I slept, I slept on floors.
-
I slept on stages. I slept on the fucking floors under the fucking
-
stages. And I loved every minute of it.
-
But where do you go from there? How do you now define success?
-
Is it still the reward of playing a song from beginning to end without making a mistake?
-
Is it still finding that new chord or scale that makes you forget all of your troubles?
-
Remember learning your first song or riff or writing your first lyric?
-
There's no guilt then. Remember that simple reward of just playing
-
music? It's your voice.
-
Cherish it, respect it, nurture it, challenge it, stretch it, scream it until it's fucking
-
gone. Because everyone's blessed with at least that.
-
And who knows how long it will last.
