Ode to the crappy music you just can't hate.
They were the band of my existence.
When I was 13.
I went to their shows, bought their CDs.
Listened to them every night.
Read their lyrics. Sometimes cried.
They're the reason I learned guitar.
I wanted to play like him.
So heavy. So dark.
I thought it was “metal.”
Their music was more important to me
Than anything had ever been.
I felt connected to them so much more
Than my parents, my siblings, or even
I wanted their symbol tattooed on me,
To document the changes
They had made to me.
To display my firm conviction.
And to prove that I was capable,
At such an age,
Such a final decision.
It’s impossible even now
To admit to myself that I was wrong.
Although I know their music’s bad,
Their imagination, creativity,
Rests in peace in that first album.
The one that's still up on my shelf.
It isn’t metal, and there’s better rock,
There are better guitar and bass players,
And better lyrics everywhere I look.
There’s nothing special about them.
I loved the third album.
I said it.
But then I changed my mind.
It was pu**y music.
I preferred grunge and metal.
I sold that album,
along with my rap and my boybands,
like it was nothing.
I moved on, and forgot about them,
Long before they disbanded.
“I’m glad,” I said, when it finally happened.
“They totally sold out anyway.”
And lucky I didn’t get that stupid tattoo.
So stupid I was, when I was young,
thought I, at age 15.
And years went by,
And every so often,
I’d cringe, and play that first album.
It brought me back,
and some of it still made me cry.
“It’s just because it's the same old songs,
the ones I know by heart--
It's just the album I loved so much.
It’s such an important part of me,
a piece of my past,” --I told myself.
“It made me who I am
And that sufficed.
I rolled my eyes. I’m sure it sucks.
But I just had to hear it.
Washed over me.
Though I’ve heard much better,
I’ve heard much worse.
And I have to say...
These are not the old songs, and yet
They strike me the same way.