Hunter S. Thompson, a great American, said that. He was born on July 18, 1937. Jack Speed was born 60 years and one day later. He hasn’t had much to say yet.
Jack, my son, was born last week, and it’s still really weird even thinking that, much less typing it or reading it out loud. My son. Gazing endlessly into the deepness of his new eyes, I’ve ascertained that we assuredly come here knowing a lot more than we’re given credit for, that his particular mish-mash of genetic structure carries with it at least a strand of connective tissue that itself reveals roadmaps of worlds known and unknown.
As he’s learning how to use his hands and crack a smile and breathe in the air and deal with this body he all of a sudden has, he’s probably forgetting some of that stuff. There’s only so much room in a little brain that fits in the palm of my hand.
But over the next however many years his Earthly stint is, he will, I think, return there from time to time— or at least be reminded of it even if its on some level far below that of the consciousness of his daily life, that of his housekeeping self. For me, music is something that brings those roadmaps into focus. I’m not sure if it will be for him or not. But I’d guess it will.
Those thieves and pimps are the ones trying to sell the music that some would say was already there, trying to capture lightning in a bottle. Those bastards lost their roadmap long ago. Those who make music, and those who love it, are trying to memorize their map.
If Jack doesn’t make the connection, it won’t be for a lack of music as we welcomed him here. Through the miracle of the Apple Corporation, I loaded up about a day’s worth of tunes I thought this brand-new person might like. I clicked the iPod on “random” and let it play for a few days while he made his entrance and for the several hours afterwards.
Now, I don’t buy “random” on these things. I often think that these iPods have a mind of their own. Or perhaps the so-called “random” songs are picked by some invisible hand somewhere. If that hand belonged to Jack last Thursday, he really, really likes Thelonious Monk and Wilco.
“Music, for me, is proof of the existence of God.” Kurt Vonnegut, a great American, said that, almost 85 years before Jack Speed was born. Call it what you will, but I think Kurt was about as right as Hunter. And I’m pretty sure Jack thinks so too. He just hasn’t said so yet.
Local Pick: Gunboat, July 28 at Two Stick.
Touring Pick: Lynn Drury, August 3 at Two Stick.
Jack’s Pick: Thelonious Monk, Wilco and artists to be named later.
