Saturday, September 15, 2012

First Time I Heard Cowboys From Hell

Pardon, my voice on this particular reading. Been under the weather the past few days and a bit hoarse.

I was already well on my way…
         Had been banging my head
For some time by then,
         But, as does occur in
Many avenues, an affecting moment
Would spring forth—

It was something so intense—a
Reaction that was so severe, it made
Not the lick of common sense—and yet
Its very existence revolutionized the inner
Songs playing—the screaming stung—
and from it—realities never dreamed of,
suddenly appeared—proving to some kid, how
beautiful a violent voice can be

in that moment, on that fourth, of July, 1990,
on an otherwise abandoned midnight beach, the
skies exploded—in this place I never should have been—ever
the reminder of the lie two friends shared—each telling their parents, over at the others that night they’d be—yet finding chance encounters with an older crowd—beyond anything that would have been approved—and it was here, on that eve, two teens, would find their everything to alter, shift and rearrange—way past any disruption they could have ever dared to learn—reaching far beyond anything ever
Felt before

My friend, by some burnt out log near the waves, lost his innocence, to some Canadian girl only stopping by after spotting us while on a midnight beachside stroll…

Mine had been removed much earlier…however, what innocence was left, would be sucked clean there that night, after hearing what would be, a shift in possibility—a parallel version, previously hidden, now received—where NEVER, never before, had I listened to such a thing—
again and again it would be played, by the beach, near the waves—

Sung, spoken, screamed, with a unity that grabbed hold of someone not knowing they needed something more, something unique, a treasured artistry, ever promising to keep offering unknown necessity

And like a sledgehammer to the basin of the skull, word would enmesh with the grey matter, instantaneously releasing that which normally takes years to subtly intimate—
It wasn’t just the words, no, it couldn’t be just the poetry of the lyrics prayed upon by the voice itself—but it was an unearthly combination of the grated tonality of shredding steel, laid bare before the presence of a melodic scream—where each rasping air collects all the emotion left exposed within, infecting the resonating space of the combinatory experience, shared between that voice in the machine, and the faction of our most repressed and desiring side of personality—

Never more, in any place, could a transformation’s definition be described so poignantly in such unrefined manners of confused deliberation—for here, in this case, the speaker is the singer, the singer is investigating—searching for the same answers that shadow the path of the listener’s arc of internalized questioning—

Never again could a verse appear, as it had done before the lake’s warm yet cooling air—

It would from that moment onwards, covet the comparisons I’d eventually have to make, exiling the classically beloved, to a place that is now, nowhere near what’s good enough, exposed for the flaws it demonstrates when placed adjacent to such a revelation as this —

Raw emotion purges out—spraying the canvas clutched upon—etching vignettes and pointed scenes, each, riddled with questions that simultaneously tear and unite the fraying sides and seams of the mortally withered fabric of being

And finally, in summation, I reflect back fondly, to that sandy space, where the names of the others occupying that short tract of beach there on that particular evening have become impossible to recall as the years move further away from this point of origin—no, I can’t recall their faces, let alone the names and I just don’t care, for all of them were no more than insignificant fillers of scene—they bore no consequence to the memories gathered there that night—

I certainly have refined my tastes over the years, yet still, this realization created alongside those formative shores, still remains, still flashes forth as it did that night, as an epiphany not quite as loud and shattering as it once stood, but still holding steady as a significant point of reference for what musicality has transpired within, these past twenty-two summers since

And still, to this day, I find it difficult to remind myself that this was all but a collection of songs—mere lyrics enhanced by creatively timed rhythms and beats…and then, I smile slantingly, as I drift back to that space, hearing the cascades caress the sandy shore, reflect upon all the available sensations still available for recall…all the while knowing, that such songs…were not simply heard…but were understood on levels indescribably so meaningful, that the music became engrained into my very fiber, therein becoming ever so firmly rooted deep.

This was the first time, music truly touched my life.

*On July 3rd, 1990 Pantera released Cowboys From Hell, which, in my opinion, is one of the most influential records ever made, both for me as a listener of music, and to the myriad of musicians who have quoted it’s influence upon both their lives and unto their own compositions and musical endeavors.

Head on over to D'Verse, where I'll be hosting Poetics tonight, where we'll be talking about First Times.  I look forward to seeing you all there. 










32 comments:

  1. I enjoyed this, Fred. Sometimes one doesn't have to know the names of people in those youthful defining moments. Remembering the experience and the emotion of the experience is enough. (I remember some college parties like that!!)

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  2. ha very cool man....i like the mix....pantera is awesome....and i can think of a few albums that define a very specific time or turn for me....the first pearl jam album is one for me as well and i can go back there often and see myself in my friend charlies car when we popped it in....i can smell that night...on the back roads

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  3. music can touch just like this...an awesome impact and great capture on how it hit you with such power... great having you behind the bar tonight fred...can i get a beer please..? smiles

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  4. I reflect back fondly, to that sandy space, where the names of the others occupying that short tract of beach there on that particular evening have become impossible to recall

    What a great write Fred! You show so much musicality in this write--and I am so glad that music touches you

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  5. Strange what music first grabs you - mine was Freddie and the Dreamers in the morning and Bessie Smith in the afternoon

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  6. Isn't it amazing how a song can take us back to a certain memory?

    Loved your prompt, Fred.

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  7. Music is so often the door into an inner self that we have never met before, till those notes, those words, those feelings, kick it all down. Your tag, defining moments, really sums this up, as you walk us through that experience and make every grain of sand on the beach vibrate. I esp loved this line: "...questions that simultaneously tear and unite the fraying sides and seams of the mortally withered fabric of being..." it has a Lovecraftian sweep to it. Love this Fred, and loved your 'first times' prompt.

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  8. Pheeeew. That sounds like quite the night you had there on the beach in all sorts of ways. LOL I'm sure that was a great song if it was a sledgehammer to the base of the skull. Yikes!
    Great prompt at the pub Fred, good to see you open the doors there :)

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  9. I like: sledgehammer to the basin of the skull ~ I never thought of music this way, you have captured its magic and sway over you ~

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  10. Yes, I can relate and remember the first time music moved me like this. I especially liked
    " It was something so intense—a
    Reaction that was so severe, it made
    Not the lick of common sense—and yet
    Its very existence revolutionized the inner
    Songs playing—the screaming stung—
    and from it—realities never dreamed of,
    suddenly appeared—proving to some kid, how
    beautiful a violent voice can be"

    At first this shocked me... how can a violent voice be beautiful, I wondered? And then I read on. And you're right, I've been delighted and surprised by the beauty and power in screaming voices... I enjoyed your depiction of the power of music. I also loved your post at Poetics... you are a very talented writer. I'm glad you hosted tonight.

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  11. Kinda think your slightly hoarse voice lends itself well to the piece.... but nevertheless, hope you're feeling better soon!

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  12. Jesus, Fred you whipped off a novella, a sweet dripping prose poem that takes us in several directions. Adolescent angst, rock and roll, young sexuality, the beach--dug it all; thanks.

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  13. Music can touch the soul and get the juices flowing, bringing back memories and relating to such life events, what a first indeed, never would have thought of music as a first but yeah does hang up there.

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  14. This is so interesting, Fred - I've never heard of that band! How is it possible?! Well, I guess you're a different generation. I do understand how moving music can be - you've described that well. k.

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  15. i don't think I can put my finger on a time or place or even a song that opened my eyes to the intense power of music. it seems as though it has always been a place of refuge for me.

    I enjoyed your journey back in time.

    and congrats on your most recent first--tending bar.

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  16. Well it certainly had an impact. As much as I love music I can't at this moment think of anything musical that really changed me as this night of music did for you...maybe it's the whole experience. I did enjoy reading about your the night you first heard Cowboys from Hell.

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  17. Really awesome. It's true how music can seal memories, hearing the piece of music associated with a scene or experience makes one relive it. It also seems to fit -- the music in the background or one is listening to, fitting the times and the events at present. Interesting point on how the listener and the performer of the music or song is both on a journey, exploring and investigating. There's a few metaphors in here of being on the shore, coming of age, of setting out into the world. There's a feeling of going out, even in the title -- Cowboys associated with wild frontiers. :) Epic, and so good to read. :)

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  18. Fred- I am TOTALLY with you...for me music holds the same importance as poetry, as books. Music has anyway of defining us,me identify with it, and when we hear something that inexsplicably grabs us....we remember it always...I love how you wrote this about Cowboys from hell! There are so many albums similar to this that are landmarks for me...maybe the first one when I was about six or seven- was 'live after death'- iron maiden....love how you describe the feelings, it's effects, ....your narrative style of writing is always so so engaging....and thank you for the great prompt....ruling for sure....damn- gonna have to go an put on vulgar display....

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  19. Music... and perfumes...can take us can to the first times like nothing else can...

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  20. Absolutely loved your love poem to Cowboys from Hell (listening to it for the first time right now). Your reading was great too.

    I remember an assignment in a college English class. It was to write an essay on what we would be willing to die for. I wrote mine on music.

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  21. I won't share the memories that come with that album over here in my bubble...trying to remember where I was! ;) This was fantastic Fred...this is one Canadian girl who is near hoarse from chanting...you rocked the pub...and the flashbacks...awesome!

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  22. oh yes, this is the magic of music, bringing us back to a time, a place, a memory that otherwise would be forgotten. i am older than you, for me it was Dylan, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell... these artists first introduced me to the poetry in song.

    love the way you wrote this, the mystery combined with the tangible. excellent.

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  23. Yes! A life-affirming initiation and inspiring write. Music wends its way within like no other art form, loosening the embedded gravel, whether in our minds or hearts, sending revelations like rapids through us. It expands our sense of self, our psychology, and our capacity to become fully human. Fantastic work, both here and at the prompt.

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  24. This really took me back. I ran around with the Pantera boys when I was a teenager. I totally get what you're saying.

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  25. Music has a way of making its mark!
    I had felt this when I had heard Pink Floyd's Marooned for the first time... and I feel it even now, listening to it for the 999th time (?) perhaps!
    Music is, in one word, MAGICAL! And in 2, an experience!

    Your poem says it all..

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  26. There's no question of the impact this music had on you. I think we all can relate. Some music awakens our soul. Nice Fred.

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  27. Hi Fred greaT to have you at the helm what a spread you've laid - ty for share of your first music love - it marks a time and an age of feel - good to recall that and remember our influences - have to listen again as not heard before mine ws tamla motown and stax - x x lib

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  28. This is just awesome Cowboys From Hell came out when my daughter was born so i have other emotions like Cemetery Gates a brilliant piece

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  29. Totally amazing piece, Fred-- this poem expands the reader's awareness and involves her...and reveals your passion. xxxj

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  30. a wonderful telling of a pivotal moment {or night} in your life. i've never had that kind of connection with a song.

    i enjoyed your prompt. thanks!

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