Wail.

Those of you for whom English is a second language, I have a tip for you. Actually, this is for everyone, since most people haven’t heard it:

Wail.

Let me explain. You know how English has all those rules and regulations about grammar and punctuation? Well, they were all made to be broken, bent, scraped, remixed, reengineered, and built back up any way you see fit. It’s just like music.

In music, you toot on a horn, and it sounds like crap. And then you start learning the proper fingerings. You practice scales over and over – and over again. You study theory. You master every rule, every regulation. You embrace every school of thought, from the streets to the top of the ivory tower.

And then you throw it all away and make your own damn rules.

Writing is Music. Music is Writing.

“Music doesn’t lie. If there is something to be changed in this world, then it can only happen through music.” – Jimi Hendrix

At first there was only vibration.

And before the written word, there was the voice.

Words and sounds were one. Sound arose from instinct, emotion, and exigency. Our ancient yelps and cries, our sighing and our laughter: these sounds were our literature.

It was the last time in human history when word and deed were, by definition, always in harmony with one another.

What Eyedea Meant to Me

Eyedea, the hip hop MC and all-around musician-philosopher from Minnesota, died in his sleep on October 16th, 2010. No one knows how he died yet. We’ll probably never know how, as is often the case with beautiful human beings of note. Frankly, I would like to know exactly how he died, and I want it backed up with evidence and testimony from people who should speak out (you know who you are).

I knew Eyedea, real name Michael Larsen. Mainly I knew him through his music. He didn’t know me much, but he was always kind when we did chat. I also got the chance to speak to him a few times while living in Minneapolis, Eyedea’s hometown for life. My hometown too, intermittently. In person, Eyedea was a live wire, though he had a smoothness to him. Kind of like a benevolent velociraptor: methodical, alert, and ready to explode at a moment’s notice. He smiled a lot.