Booze and Boomer Rock

| 0 Comments

mworld.jpg

When I was six, my parents threw a party and all the adults got incredibly drunk. There was a band playing and I watched them all night. I watched them playing through all the Baby Boomer classics, getting wilder and drunker between songs. Later in the night, I asked them to play Jimi Hendrix. Hendrix and spirits, the surrealism of it appealed to me.

At ten years old, I got drunk for the first time. I had found a dusty bottle of Peach Schnapps under my parents' liquor cabinet, it seemed like a great opportunity. I stuffed the bottle into my bag, and went to a friend's house. It was four in the afternoon, and we sat in the park, drinking Schnapps from the bottle. I didn't like the dizziness--I hated roller coasters--but it was fun to do something that I wasn't supposed to. And we didn't get caught.

By twelve, my friends and I took turns stealing alcohol from our parents' liquor cabinets. We poured a little bit from each bottle into one big glass, so they wouldn't notice any missing. We watched which bottles they drank frequently and chose those. My friends were delinquents, and I guess that I was too. In a small school with no more than fifty kids, we bonded over rebelling and not much more. But in the background of this new hobby, we obsessed over any CD that we could find with a parental advisory.

Two years later, in high school, many of those friends stopped going to school, and became thieves and stoners--I didn't. My intuition left me feeling uneasy and alone and friendless, and like many lonely people before me, I found comfort in music. If I liked a song, I wanted to know everything about it. I would memorise every word. It wasn't enough. I soon began guitar lessons, and spent countless hours, alone in my bedroom, learning songs that were beyond my ability. Eventually, I met people with a similar fascination. Every day, around four in the afternoon, we stuffed into someone's basement to perform the same songs over and over. We never got bored, and no one's parents ever complained. Over a short period of time, we went from playing in basements to playing venues--where the audience was comprised mostly of other bands--- a community was born, a community that I want to share with you on Montrealites.

So when I was ten and found a dusty bottle of Peach Schnapps under my parents' liquor cabinet, it seemed like a great opportunity. I stuffed the bottle into my bag, and went to a friend's house. It was four in the afternoon, and we sat in the park, drinking Schnapps from the bottle. I didn't like the dizziness--I've always hated roller coasters--but it was fun to do something that I wasn't supposed to. And we didn't get caught.

By twelve, my friends and I took turns stealing alcohol from our parents' liquor cabinets. We poured a little bit from each bottle into one big glass, so they wouldn't notice any missing. We watched which bottles they drank frequently enough to forget about. My friends were delinquents, and I guess that I was too. In a small school with no more than fifty kids, we bonded over rebelling and not much more. But in the background of this new hobby, we obsessed over any CD that we could find with a parental advisory.

Two years later, we were in high school. Many of those friends stopped going to school, and started to steal and take drugs--but I wasn't interested. My intuition left me alone and friendless, and like many lonely people before me, I found comfort in music. If I liked a song, I wanted to know everything about it. I would memorise every word, and it wasn't enough. I started to take guitar lessons, and spent countless hours, alone in my bedroom, learning songs that were too hard for me. Eventually I met people with a similar fascination. Everyday, around four in the afternoon, we stuffed into someone's basement to perform the same songs over and over. We never got bored, and no one's parents ever complained. Over a short period of time, we went from playing basements to playing venues--where the audience was mostly comprised of other bands playing that night--but a community was born

Leave a comment