Friday, January 12, 2007

Where's my Steve Van Zandt?

I've often joked that I'd like to be Art Garfunkel more than anyone else in history. While he contributed basically nothing to the project (look at any Simon and Garfunkel album and he co-wrote one song, at best), he is half of arguably the most famous musical duo of the 20th century.

But I was never that serious, it was just a play on the fact that I'd rather cruise through life living off the success of others than do anything meaningful myself, an overly-cynical expression of my youthful angst, I suppose.

However, the other day, I realized I don't want to be Art Garfunkel. I want to be Bruce Springsteen.

The earth-shattering realization actually came to me while listening to a John Frusciante solo album. For all intents and purposes, Frusciante is the Red Hot Chili Peppers. But nobody outside of music nerds knows who he is; rather, everyone knows who Anthony Keadis is, the man who brings nothing to the table but meandering and meaningless lyrics.

Much the same can be said of Springsteen, though not to the same degree. I mean, I love the Boss as much as the next fella, but we gotta admit, if it weren't for Steve throwing down on some good lead guitar. Bruce pretty much just brings the heartfelt lyrics and gruff and tumble good looks, all of which I love, but without the rest of the E Street Band, he'd be just another dude in a coffee shop strumming the guitar.

So I've determined that I can pull that off. I'm ok with the pen, I can strum a few chords, and if I can grow facial hair someday, I could have grizzled good looks as well. All I really need is a much more talented by not a attention-starved band mate to carry me to glory.

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