path:“20-29 (SELF LE The Poet and the Master of Music
By Matt Labrecque
Late one evening, I was stuck in revelry while drinking
a cup of tea. My muse for the evening was a guitar,
sitting in the corner of my bedroom. The long, slender
neck flowing into a body covered in scars from where
I had used a pick incorrectly, with bronze strings like
strands of golden hair tightened to the perfect pitch.
In my mind’s eye, I was sitting front and center to a
concert of music legends, men who had gifted me the
chance to catch just a glimpse of their talent. Jimi
Hendrix, the man who killed God was raining fire
and fury down like bombs, the wails of Izabella
piercing the air. Stevie Ray Vaugn, the steely-eyed
sharpshooter was ripping soundscapes from the sky,
exploding them it through that old Fender amplifier.
And John Mayer, the pop king, made you feel for a
relationship which never happened through his love
songs tinged with that old-school blues sound.
And just like that, the trance was broken. The concert
was over and I was dumped into the rainy streets of reality.
I had snapped out of my revelry, with a realization of the
commonality between the poet and a master of music. They
both are artists, the only difference being that the paper
they use is lined differently.
And their artwork will set all of us free.