When God Himself Needs Earplugs
Hey Girls and Boys, I accidentally deleted Brian/John's post when trying to delete a bunk post. Here it is in its entirety although I'm not sure how to get the comments back. Many many apologies. Kilian
Hey folks, today a friend of mine, Brian Furr, will be subbing for me. I asked him to tell the story of this guy "Matt" we knew back in the day. Matt was, uh, let's say: unique. I have fond memories of Matt and I trading off turns on his guitar, increasing our wankery to new heights. Matt and Brian's apartment was always a great place to hang out, play guitar, and listen to Brian's superior record collection. Brian is an awesome guy, and a great storyteller, so enjoy.
Ok, carry on.
John
One of my best friends in high school was a fellow misfit we'll call Matt. We met in 8th grade gym when we realized that we were both harassed by the same group of assholes, for largely the same reasons. Would that life stayed that simple. 20+ years later I am reminded of a line from Denis Johnson’s book Jesus' Son: "we were friends...because of some mutual misunderstanding which had not yet come to light."
Matt was tall and thin, with long, unwashed black hair, bad teeth and poor hygiene. He had the first goatee I ever saw, though it might have been unintentional. Unkind types compared him to Charles Manson, but Rasputin might have been more accurate.Matt lived in a filthy house with his divorced father and kid sister. His dad seemed to always be gone and left Matt to his own devices. Their house became a haven for me, with its lack of rules and standards. My parents couldn't stand him, but tolerated him for my sake. Upon hearing that he was coming over, my dad would mutter about Matt's disheveled appearance. Mom, being a mom, would say "Brain, make sure you give him some of that leftover (pot roast, meatloaf, lasagna, etc.), that boy doesn't look like he eats good."
Matt and I made a gradual transition from being d&d/sci-fi geeks to being music geeks. We liked things that were HEAVY. Black Sabbath Vol. 4 and King Crimson's Red l.p. were big faves of ours. This at a time when a lot of our peers thought that the Cars were an edgy band. Then, thanks to KPFT and Chuck Roast's Sunday night show, we discovered punk, and realized that bands like Black Flag and the Dead Kennedys were making heavy music without being 40-something British art school dropouts (this seemed to be what our favorite prog-rock bands were comprised of). Matt also became completely obsessed with Jimi Hendrix, and bought a guitar. It would have been a better a world if this had not happened.
Sometime in '83, Matt, I, Ramon, Clinton, and other clear lake area denizens started a joke/noise band called Fear of Roaches. I was the "front man"-not singer, as that would imply talent. My only qualifications were being able to shout/scream over the guitars, and a willingness to make a public ass of myself. I couldn't take any of it too seriously. Matt, however, felt that he had found his destiny as a future guitar god. He would have made a better mass murderer.
The problem was that to our knowledge, Matt never took a single guitar lesson. Instead, he seemed to believe that if he played his guitar aimlessly, tunelessly, for hours on end, the spirit of Hendrix would descend upon him. Or, maybe is own inner Hendrix would be released. The result of this reasoning was a heavy, bass note drone that could disperse a riot. I saw it break up a couple of parties.
Imagine John Lee Hooker trying to make a record on Thorazine, then playing it back through a bullhorn. Imagine a Black Flag album at half speed. Several years later, Lewis Black and I would see Rusted Shut open for the Meat Puppets. Some people in the audience ran away with their hands over their ears. Not Lewis and me. Jamming/practicing with Matt made Rusted Shut sound like Pink Floyd.
And on and on Matt would jam, with a devil’s glare in his eyes. Suggestions that he maybe learn something about chords and tuning were met with icy disdain. A true god does not need instructions.
I told Matt's story to legendary record producer/musician, Spot. Spot says that since Hendrix and the general rise of lead guitar in rock music, you see an awful lot of this. The problem, he says, is this: you may or may not have innate talent, but none of us are born knowing how to play guitar. Taking lessons requires an admission that you aren't sure what you are doing-that, and being willing to temporarily sublimate your ego to a (hopefully) more experienced instructor. So, it helps to have a little humility, and to not take yourself so seriously. You can't learn if you are too insecure to take criticism.Eventually, everything fell apart. There were many reasons, but it didn't help that Ramon, Clinton, and others were actually learning their instruments. Whether they meant to or not, they left Matt way behind. Matt disappeared completely after being implicated in a burglary at a clear lake area music store. Maybe he could summon the spirit of Hendrix if he had a better axe.
Matt, wherever you are, I hope you are well. If you still play guitar, I hope you play for the sheer joy of it.
And, I hope you learned how to tune that damn thing.
Brian Furr
Hey folks, today a friend of mine, Brian Furr, will be subbing for me. I asked him to tell the story of this guy "Matt" we knew back in the day. Matt was, uh, let's say: unique. I have fond memories of Matt and I trading off turns on his guitar, increasing our wankery to new heights. Matt and Brian's apartment was always a great place to hang out, play guitar, and listen to Brian's superior record collection. Brian is an awesome guy, and a great storyteller, so enjoy.
Ok, carry on.
John
One of my best friends in high school was a fellow misfit we'll call Matt. We met in 8th grade gym when we realized that we were both harassed by the same group of assholes, for largely the same reasons. Would that life stayed that simple. 20+ years later I am reminded of a line from Denis Johnson’s book Jesus' Son: "we were friends...because of some mutual misunderstanding which had not yet come to light."
Matt was tall and thin, with long, unwashed black hair, bad teeth and poor hygiene. He had the first goatee I ever saw, though it might have been unintentional. Unkind types compared him to Charles Manson, but Rasputin might have been more accurate.Matt lived in a filthy house with his divorced father and kid sister. His dad seemed to always be gone and left Matt to his own devices. Their house became a haven for me, with its lack of rules and standards. My parents couldn't stand him, but tolerated him for my sake. Upon hearing that he was coming over, my dad would mutter about Matt's disheveled appearance. Mom, being a mom, would say "Brain, make sure you give him some of that leftover (pot roast, meatloaf, lasagna, etc.), that boy doesn't look like he eats good."
Matt and I made a gradual transition from being d&d/sci-fi geeks to being music geeks. We liked things that were HEAVY. Black Sabbath Vol. 4 and King Crimson's Red l.p. were big faves of ours. This at a time when a lot of our peers thought that the Cars were an edgy band. Then, thanks to KPFT and Chuck Roast's Sunday night show, we discovered punk, and realized that bands like Black Flag and the Dead Kennedys were making heavy music without being 40-something British art school dropouts (this seemed to be what our favorite prog-rock bands were comprised of). Matt also became completely obsessed with Jimi Hendrix, and bought a guitar. It would have been a better a world if this had not happened.
Sometime in '83, Matt, I, Ramon, Clinton, and other clear lake area denizens started a joke/noise band called Fear of Roaches. I was the "front man"-not singer, as that would imply talent. My only qualifications were being able to shout/scream over the guitars, and a willingness to make a public ass of myself. I couldn't take any of it too seriously. Matt, however, felt that he had found his destiny as a future guitar god. He would have made a better mass murderer.
The problem was that to our knowledge, Matt never took a single guitar lesson. Instead, he seemed to believe that if he played his guitar aimlessly, tunelessly, for hours on end, the spirit of Hendrix would descend upon him. Or, maybe is own inner Hendrix would be released. The result of this reasoning was a heavy, bass note drone that could disperse a riot. I saw it break up a couple of parties.
Imagine John Lee Hooker trying to make a record on Thorazine, then playing it back through a bullhorn. Imagine a Black Flag album at half speed. Several years later, Lewis Black and I would see Rusted Shut open for the Meat Puppets. Some people in the audience ran away with their hands over their ears. Not Lewis and me. Jamming/practicing with Matt made Rusted Shut sound like Pink Floyd.
And on and on Matt would jam, with a devil’s glare in his eyes. Suggestions that he maybe learn something about chords and tuning were met with icy disdain. A true god does not need instructions.
I told Matt's story to legendary record producer/musician, Spot. Spot says that since Hendrix and the general rise of lead guitar in rock music, you see an awful lot of this. The problem, he says, is this: you may or may not have innate talent, but none of us are born knowing how to play guitar. Taking lessons requires an admission that you aren't sure what you are doing-that, and being willing to temporarily sublimate your ego to a (hopefully) more experienced instructor. So, it helps to have a little humility, and to not take yourself so seriously. You can't learn if you are too insecure to take criticism.Eventually, everything fell apart. There were many reasons, but it didn't help that Ramon, Clinton, and others were actually learning their instruments. Whether they meant to or not, they left Matt way behind. Matt disappeared completely after being implicated in a burglary at a clear lake area music store. Maybe he could summon the spirit of Hendrix if he had a better axe.
Matt, wherever you are, I hope you are well. If you still play guitar, I hope you play for the sheer joy of it.
And, I hope you learned how to tune that damn thing.
Brian Furr
6 Comments:
Ramon Said
Nice post Brian. Yeah Um Mike S...er I mean "Matt" was a pretty odd bird.
When he and his buddy broke into the music store to steal equipment they should have thought about who they sold it to. Nothing more lovely than walking in with a pedal, asking for a missing piece, and the store owner saying "Yeah you mean this missing piece?" Thanks Mike, er, I mean Matt. So Clinton, you, and I spent the next 48 hours making sure Mike and buddy (ok, more Mike, I never liked that other dude) didn't get sent to jail and we made sure they brought us all the stolen equipment (which covered a good chunk of my parents front lawn). The owners figured they got most of their stuff back and somehow I guess Clinton and I looked honest or stupid enough where they didn't pin it on us. Still Mike skipped town after that. All in all pretty stupid ass.
Anyhow, I remmeber when he came back once as we were recording at ACC. He popped in and just said "What the hell is this crap?!" Kind of our "Wish you were here moment" except it was Schlong Weasel and Mike was more bitchy and condescending than insane. I think our reaction was "Hey, nice to see you too."
But despite that he was an interesting dude. His house looked like a cardboard litter box and smelled like one too. The shelves we packed with dusty moldy paperback sci-fi books, a HAM radio sat with a glass of alcohol that was filled with drowned fleas, and the outside of the house looked like a forest from the lack of lawncare. How we could stand being there is beyond me.
September 18, 2007 12:13:00 PM EDT
and then I had the nerve to pipe in
Thanks and nice post. As far as music goes, there are plenty of good players out there who never got a formal lesson. This guy seems to be on another frequency though. He obviously doesn't have much respect for others which you would need to learn any craft.
September 18, 2007 12:46:00 PM EDT
Carlos Anaconda had to throw in his two sense
Hey Brian, its been a long time since you and kyle lived above Teds. Hope all is well and thanks for the post.
I had a friend who thought the same as your friend, who thought that the only way to true originality was by never learning anything from anyone else. I consider that a grave mistake. Certainly copying others is not the way either. I'm actually not all that sure how it is that good original music comes to be, but it obviously includes a certain amout of being influenced by others and learning from those that came before you. I'm sure hendrix would agree.
September 18, 2007 4:13:00 PM EDT
while Tom explored his memory banks
thanks for the 'inadvertent' name drop ramon, i was racking my brain to remember who this was. i remember him all right, though more through legend than from experience, which was limited. i think i somehow avoided playing w. him, unless he was in capt. kirk's garden hose (was he)?
September 18, 2007 4:45:00 PM EDT
And Finally Head Stapler had this to say
Thanks for the post Brian. I remember my first guest post here, mentioning Chuck Roast's influence on my life as well. I wonder what he is up to now. I once waited on him in Austin years after leaving Houston... You guys painted quite the picture of your friend. I remember having a friend kind of like that most of my teen years. I think I liked going to their house so much because there were absolutely no rules. No one gave a crap. I call it the Gummo effect. Anyways. Thanks for the post!
September 18, 2007 6:47:00 PM EDT
That's the way my computer remembers it all going down anyway. Sorry, sorry again.
As far as I know, Chuck still runs Vinyl Edge. He left KTRU a while back to go back to school. Other than that, he occasionally sets the Houston Press straight in their letters column. I too grew up with the Funhouse show. I still have tapes of it, in fact. Life changing.
Nice save, K.
And congrats on the girl. Girls rule.
I had a little email thing with Chuck Roast not so long ago. He was still running Vinyl Edge and playing with a pan-asian ensemble that sounded very interesting. I believe he is participating in the Axiom reunion.
In "Matt's" defense, I will say this: the man taught me my first 9th chord, so I am forever in his debt.
Other bits of "Matt" trivia:
- He had a green Pinto with holes in the floor (yes, you could see the road) and roaches lived in it
- He wrote one of the very first computer viruses I ever saw: it was a floppy disk virus that spread on Apple IIs. It would copy itself to the boot sector of floppy drives which were put into an infected machine. Then after 20 times, it would delete itself - and the floppy. All in Apple machine code...it was actually pretty brilliant.
- We made fun of him so much one time for all the roaches in his house, that he fumigated the place with fogger bombs prior to us coming over for a jam session. He'd look at us and say, "Do you see those Doritos? They're poisonous." "Do you see that bread? Poisonous". During the jam session we were treated to dozens of sick roaches staggering out into the middle of the room and expiring before our very eyes.
- The name "Fear of Roaches" was pretty much directly inspired by his house
- Me, Ramon, and "Matt" used to have "feedback contests" in which the participant would test his manhood by seeing what insanely loud, hideous screeching noises he could make by closing himself up in Ramon's closet with an amp and a guitar, and turning it up all the way. "Matt" always won. This is one reason why Rusted Shut sounds like Air Supply to Brian.
- During the ACC (Alvin Community College) recording session that "Matt" attended, Lewis Black was the producer. At the end of several hours of recording the band, part of Lewis' final project for a class, he played back the tape and got,
"Boooooooooooooooooooop"
I immediately dubbed our band "Lewis and the Test Tones"
====
I don't know what happened to "Matt" in the end, but I always hoped that he eventually got his shit together. Classic case of a really smart dude who made a few bad decisions in his life and smoked waaaay too much bud.
sparrow, my bro, i must correct your otherwise excellent comment on one point: "matt" RARELY smoked pot. for better or worse, his persona was all natural.
in hindsight, i think my post may have been a little to hard on matt. he was (and i hope remains) a sensitive, insightful individual. i think that,having raised himself in the absence of parents, he was missing a lot of the social skills most everyone else has. as far as his guitar playing, all of us can develope "blind spots" to aspects of our behavior and how others percieve us- me and my drinking being a lovely example.
in high school, matt was a true friend when i needed one. to bad we grew apart. i am as much to blame as him. as sparrow put it, i hope he got his shit together. maybe i'll get mine together someday.
anyway, thanks for letting me post and thanks for the comments.
brian furr
heh...Brian, I may be mixing him up with the *real* Matt. And you KNOW that dude was a full on rasta burner.
Still I think that "Matt" smoked more than you remember. Or maybe I smoked more than I remember. Or something like that. Maybe I just assumed he was stoned all the time because I was. Classic case of projection...
Anyhow, enjoyed the post greatly; hope you get to do it again sometime.
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