Patience has never been my thing. As someone who writes, this is a problem. Often I start things and they start going long. I realize it’s a chapter of a longer story and every paragraph brings up another point I just have to make and I spin and tell and spin and tell. Finally at some point, I’ll type, “This is part 1 of what may be ‘X’ number of posts” and I’ll hit publish, sure that I am going to come back the next day and finish things. A lot of times it’s like this and 404 days have passed. Have I said I’m prone to distraction?

Really what holds the resumption of the story is that I realize how long it really is, and that’s daunting. This one in particular spans 35 years, so how the hell do I think I’d be able to put a bow on it in 1000 words or so and call it a day?

In addition, most times, the important parts come to me out of order. This is one of those such parts. What I’ve resolved internally is to put them out as they come to me. Try to give them the respect and attention when they come, maybe explain the order, maybe not.

One of my favorite fiction authors is Stephen King. I realized early on that I didn’t love him because I loved horror or the macabre. I loved his writing because of his ability to tell stories back and forth, past, present, future, back and forth, back and forth, pulling me to the next page, tearing through 100’s in a row as the weave of occurrence forced me forward. I took a couple decades off from him, but every time I read him, I instantly recognize this and love it.

So what’s all this preface about? On January 13th, 2019, I wrote a post about me and music. A chunk of my musical journey and story. You can read it HERE and it will give you some insight into what follows.

I was a month removed from making a musical mistake, one that I regretted instantly, not as much since, but a little. It was a mistake that made me take a look around and ask “What the hell is really going on? This is telling you something important,” and in the words of someone you’ll hear about shortly “you’d better recognize.”

In the so called “part 1” above, I talk about some things that influenced me in music. It pretty much ends with me buying my first guitar after being moved by the Thanksgiving 87, U2, Joshua Tree tour. What comes next really formed me musically, period.

Upon arriving to LSU in ‘89, I did my best to insert myself into the music scene. I immediately started going to shows. I had a friend Steve who said, you need to go see Better Than Ezra, they are like what you like. I said sure. That fall we went to The Art Bar and in a sweaty packed bar under the Mississippi River Bridge, I saw the band for the first time. Like many I was immediately drawn in.

Unlike most, I made it my goal to meet them. To ask how I could be involved with this thing I saw as great. My friend Stave was also friends with their guitar player, Joel Rundell, who apparently hung out at a local bar I would call home for the next 5-6 years, Murphy’s.

Joel was a good dude, as were the other three guys in the band, Tom, Cary, and Kevin. Joel passed away in 1990 and over the next three years or so I became a part time roadie (Brian Buzz was my alter ego...), practice stand in for Kevin when he took hiatus to Sante Fe, Tom and I played in a couple bands together for a short time as I was starting out, he Cary and I played a show as a cover band called Larry, one night in Fred’s and my first band Meantree played no less than 20 shows opening for them from 92-94. The music became my soundtrack in a lot of ways, and I became a better guitar player and singer by constantly working through their songs.

During that period of time and passed, I would have dropped everything I was doing to have been their 2nd guitar player. I thought about it constantly and put myself in that position. I really would have given just about anything to have played with them once. To sit in. To reach some level of acceptance and achievement on my end. We all fabricate what we think is important. Don’t we?

For the past 25 years or so I have had a recurring dream. In it, Kevin and I mostly, are hanging out and I am there to finally play with them. I have had this dream no less than once a month for the last 25 years. I am not embellishing this for affect. Oh, and I forgot to add. I always wake up before we actually play. Or I’m there and ready and realize I know none of the songs and I am about to shit the sheets. You know, all the typical dream things. Every couple weeks I wake with an “almost did it”.

For all of my life I’ve never been afraid of calling people out of the blue and asking for ridiculous stuff. If I think it, I usually just do it, regardless. So in 2019, out of the blue I texted Kevin and told him a lot of what I just told you and he said sure, come on over and play in December. 25 years in the making and you know what I did? I shit my pants. I discounted my ability, could I even do it (of course I could) and on the night of, Kevin texted me and asked if I was coming, and I gave him some lame excuse of why I couldn’t. In a word, I was scared. What fuckery.

Over the next couple months, I for sure thought I’d be full of regret. That after carrying some preconceived demon around for a couple decades, I’d had the opportunity to clear it and I didn’t. I mean I had some regret, but not as much as I thought. It was like the fact that Kevin had said yes was enough to validate my wants. I actually felt better about the whole situation. I mean kind of.

There’s a much bigger question that came to be in the weeks after this went down and it was this. Why do we associate our worth on want to attach ourselves to, associations with the popular and famous? I know I had for years taken pride in my friendship with the BTE boys and when speaking of them refer to a short part of a summer that Tom and I shared a townhouse. What the fuck is that? They are just people and likely don’t have it any more figured out than any of us. Luckily, I still consider these guys as friends after all of these years, but the whole thing made me say. “You do realize that you’re just as valuable without this inflated association. Get your fucking head out of your ass.”

So I did.

I let it go.

I poured myself back into playing again, with Cary, the original drummer from BTE, John Bossier, and Court Smith, who I played with for 4 years in the late 90’s. I began writing more music. I am spending my energy on doing my best with this band, with these guys that believe in me as a writer and player and a friend. I didn’t waste the last 25 years of wanting to be something else for nothing. I have work to do.

I mean I still would jump on stage and play with them if the opportunity arose, but it doesn’t haunt me. I’d want to play because they wanted me to, not me asking. The dreams only come once every couple months these days.

So thanks Kevin and Tom, I apologize for not being there. It’s bullshit to ask for something, get it and then don’t follow through. That’s the actual let down. I appreciate it and won’t forget it.

Brian Buzz

#hugsandhi5s