I tell people this frequently, because I am quite pleased with myself when some off-hand observation that I make turns out to bear more than a morsel of truth. I often feel awkward around very drunk people because they find an optimism, an excitement, an inspiration even, in the things around them, and I just can’t keep up. I can fake it, though, I’ve found, through a combination of volume, obscenities, and references to vice. “Fuck man, shiiit. Weed!” I was feeling particularly awkward last night as I saw as many of my friends drinking as an anesthetic as drinking as catharsis. “Shit man, fuuuuck.” We played sloppily and out of tune, not that people seemed to mind since the Theory of Musical Performance clearly states “Drunk people love live music.” The Defiance, Ohio corollary to this theory amends that “Drunk people seem to like Defiance, Ohio” (even in our out-of-tuneness and out-of-timeness, our broken strings, and cracking voices).
I said some ridiculous shit at the end of our playing, trying to clear the place out. It went something like this: “Go get drunk and if you don’t drink, go make out, and if you don’t want to do either of those things, go do something fun like ride your bike.” The fact that I made this statement to a room full of people, many strangers, made me sad for two reasons. First, I feel like it gave license for people to thoughtlessly engage in drinking and sex, two things that should require at least a shred of consideration or intention before jumping into, especially when combined. Not that those things are bad at all, but people can make their own decisions about them and generate their own energy for them and sure as hell don’t need someone behind a microphone mouthing off about them. Second, I feel like my statement exemplify a generally held perception of our scene of music that is, at times, earned, but often very narrow sited. This is the perception that our energy and passion can be invested in food or drink or romance and this will somehow get us where we want to go – that utopia is only a PBR (or a root beer for that matter), a bike ride, or a game of spin the bottle away. We do the things we have to do (or decide to do) and sometimes we regret them, sometimes we remember them fondly, and sometimes they’re just the things we do. In any case, life seems to be more complicated than we are able to, or willing to, express.
I regret some other things that I’ve said recently, though more as an expression of my mentality than what they might have meant to other people. We were sitting in a circle outside the show in DC when the question came up, “what was the best Defiance, Ohio show?” For whatever reason, I proceeded to dive into a description of what, in many ways, were some of our worst shows. Why is it always easier to express tales of calamity and misfortune (and more fun to hear them) than it is to talk about experiences that were special or meaningful?
On this tour, I guess words of negative camaraderie are often easier, and more fun, than the alternative – an isolated muddle of feelings.
…
Talking about romantic relationships is kind of the same deal, especially when those relationships are strange or feel fleeting. Every excited word is an investment that makes it harder when feelings change or go away and sometimes you just feel so confused that you don’t know the words to express those feelings. So, I often trail off, “yeah, things are good … I guess.”