When our favorite musicians grow up, does it force us to grow up a little too? Or does the presence of music in our lives, invariably tied to a certain time, a particular chapter, make it difficult to stomach the maturation of the artists responsible?
Or maybe there’s a cosmic biorhythm that undulates among us. We’re drawn to music and the musicians that make it because of a more personal connection than we’d ever even considered.
When Joe Strummer found the Mescaleros, I found myself in college with two kids and a mountain of debt. The Clash was a high school crush, too tenacious and too much trouble to take seriously. In Davis, surrounded by Birkenstocks and protest signs, I encountered a world perspective that was more about reggae than rebellion.
Just a few years later, The Promise Ring was everything my rollercoaster psyche needed. But, just as suddenly, Davey…
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