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Failure is not an option

Love can break your heart. But music can rip the heart out of your chest and leave it lying on the ground just out of reach, where you can still seeing it bouncing around like a decapitated chicken. It’s very much a one on one thing. There’s a handful of artists I always wait on….expecting to be uplifted and to approach something as close to spiritual healing as an aging agnostic can handle. That may be asking a bit much of some guys bashing away on guitars and singing songs about girls. But if in my eyes you’ve reached a certain plateau, failure is not an option. I don’t just expect to be lightly entertained by these people. I want my life changed.

Martin Sexton is one who must deliver. To hear his solo verion of “Purple Rain” is one of those monents that gets stamped behind the eyes. If Prince were white and weighed about 100 more pounds and sported some double v-neck sideburns, he’d be Martin Sexton and wouldn’t have to wear his high heeled boots anymore. He might get laid way less, but he might learn how to live and love by bus. And be less of a weirdo.

Anyway, it’s late and I can’t sleep, which is becoming increasingly normal. I should stop now before I start sounding even more incoherent.

In a bit..


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