
So, the alarm rings at like 8am.
Lord only knows what the fuck I’d been dreaming about: might’ve sucked, might’ve not, but regardless the fucking alarm jarred me out of the little piece of peace I was experiencing, right? So that sucks.
Literally hobble to the kitchen goin’, “I’m never gonna get fucked up the night before work again.” And saying it over and over like a fuckin’ mantra as I wait for the coffee to perk so I can drink some, get the shit taste out of my mouth, and get enough energy to make some grits & eggs (breakfast of cham-peens, folks). Sorta still a shit morning, but hey, coffee’s comin’.
Get me a little caffeine kick and decide to put on some music and cook. Bam! Just got the new Scott H. Biram, Graveyard Shift, in the mail, so I put that sucker on. I’ve liked Biram’s stuff in the past: the whole blues / country / punk, one-man-band, street performer thing works well for him. First thing I hear is this dude, basically telling it like it is, as far as my life experience goes, saying stuff like, “You know most times I can’t sleep at night / I just drive the highway up and down / sometimes I can’t get a bite at all / sometimes I bite off more than I can chew,” etc. The album plays on and it’s all these awesome country / blues numbers about love, reefer, girls, God, death, trucks, and work. Hearing this dude lay it all out makes me feel good, like less alone / lonely, or whatever. And the day starts looking a lot better. The monotonous rig-a-ma-roll I’m gonna have to face during my waking hours seems like it’s gonna be alright, ya know. And the minute I clock out I can jump in the ride and sing along to the disc in my car, loud and proud as I want. Keeps me going.
And that’s why I’ve been listening to this shit from sun up to sundown. Biram fucking rules.
www.scottbiram.com
www.bloodshotrecords.com
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Ari Joffe