As Donelly’s backing vocals float over Hersh proclaiming, “Two step, behind the rest / One fingertip too long / A hole / A hole in the box they carry / Spills sugar in the road,” Drummer and I spent too many hours driving through the night imparting our own subjective meaning to these simple words.
Looking back, this truth about the fragile nature of human relationships should have carried more weight. He still works in a local record store in our hometown and consistently recycles other small-town musicians into new band formations as he dreams about the ever-elusive record contract.
This one surprised a few people, but yes, I do like blues music.
My drummer friend would often pick me up in the middle of the night so that we could drive around and chat while he delivered bundles of newspapers.
Often I would come home nauseous and reeking of cigarette smoke, giddy with big ideas.