Modà - Forse non lo sai
Zero Assoluto - Di me e di te
Francesca Michielin - Tu sei una favola
Ligabue - Le Donne Lo Sanno
Fabri Fibra - Pamplona ft. Thegiornalisti
Gigi D'Alessio - Benvenuto amore
(2:24 a.m.)
Showing posts with label Bands. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bands. Show all posts
15/07/2017
28/08/2016
The songs
which bring out those memories:
Brother (2014)
Rude (2015)
cuz i listened to them a lot back then
(00:04 a.m.)
Brother (2014)
Rude (2015)
cuz i listened to them a lot back then
(00:04 a.m.)
06/12/2014
6 Consecutive years...FAILED
'08 My Chemical Romance
'10 These New Puritans, Fanfarlo
'11 Maroon 5
'12 Mystery Jets
'13 The Killers
'14 ;(((
(11:29 p.m.)
'10 These New Puritans, Fanfarlo
'11 Maroon 5
'12 Mystery Jets
'13 The Killers
'14 ;(((
(11:29 p.m.)
17/07/2014
04/03/2014
G
from his twitter; most of them are so significantly meaningful that I cannot understand...
It would have been a fairly simple matter to not write a letter. We can often re-establish ourselves through simple action as opposed to words but that hasn’t been my style this year as I have become more open and connected. Which has been, like all things, both positive and negative. And if you are a casual follower then please, go about your normal business unless you feel there might be something in this letter for you. I am very close to having my own place on the web to put things like this.
1 year.
A year in and I had always thought I would take a look at things once it had passed since the breakup of the band. I saw a lot of great things, a lot of honesty and a lot of courage, a lot of self expression through words or art or feelings and it was rewarding to know you are followed, through your art, by people of such passion, conviction, and self awareness.
I have, for some time, felt that connecting too close would bring with it some negative things. Things out of my control but things nonetheless, and of course I was right, though this did not deter me from continuing to be open. But the last few months have felt different. And it wasn’t specifically any one event but the building up of many, and the sound of too much white-noise. Too much access leading to only the same type of confusion and unrest that I have seen throughout the year. But again I want to stress that all of this has been good progress and good learning. Positive and negative.
As an artist, I am continually reminded and encouraged to be of limited access to the audience. But I found that this is not my way- well, not all of the time. Actually it is both in and out of access I need to be. There is a time and a place for both. I have learned this.
When I started being open for the first time in what felt like ages, it truly did feel that it was helping. Helping some of us get through for sure but it also helped me a great deal in accepting things. It became a kind of therapy for me, and even the occasional anger and frustration I would field all added up in my head, creating a large broad-stroke picture.
The thing that was mildly disheartening, and resulting in somewhat of a restructuring of how I operate, is the division, or the need to create fantasies of separation in order to cure anger, boredom, or frustration.
It is difficult for people, including myself, to see the truth for what it is- again because it is boring, and it doesn’t agitate or excite us in the same way as a fantasy, like a drug. But in the year, something that stood out was witnessing a fair amount of people try to divide up a situation, like a band, into “camps” or “sides”. Literally seeking to pull apart the very friends that created the reason we even have a dialogue, why you are even interested. If I could say there is any kind of behavior that I would rather not have witnessed it was that. The aims of the confused or bored. But I’m glad that I did because it makes sense- that in all the chaos of a break-up people needed an order of things, and a side to take, fictitious in origin as they may be.
But I think the thing that I learned the most, and have come to embrace, is the simple fact that you cannot, and will not take everyone with you. As an empath it is in our nature to want to reach everyone, share with everyone, get everyone to love each other to keep the feeling in the room somewhat manageable for the empathetic as opposed to the rollercoaster of extreme emotions which tend to feel like going from feeding ducks in a pond to witnessing a car accident. It’s the same when playing live for ten people or ten thousand. A rush-in of emotion, good and bad, it becomes the performers job to then inspire a positive connection throughout the audience, that they then share, though we can sometimes fail at this, and often it is because of a very vocal and negative minority. The performer lets that bit get through the wall and it starts to fall apart. You have seen it before when going to see your favorite band live. I call it “the one-finger” rule, and a person that possesses a desire for a negative reaction a “one-finger” because it is usually within an audience of a thousand raised sets of hands in togetherness that, if you look hard enough, you will find the one middle-finger extended out. Almost 100% of the time it isn’t negative but the desire for a reaction, which is all any of us really want- a reaction. To be loved.
Know this, that I am aware it exists and I’m also aware it is small. I am aware it is simple noise, easily tuned out if in the right headspace, which we are all capable of. I would like to imagine that all of us, including my friends know this as well. I don’t generalize a tremendous fanbase like this one. It would be naïve. The outpouring of positive emotion and support for an idea and it’s individuals has been unmanageable in it’s size. So thank you.
But it has always been my job to create, not ask you what I should create before I do it, as that would do you an enormous disservice. This time I do not seek a bubble, or to close myself off. I seek to keep the thread alive, but a thread and not an alarm. This year has been a lot of fun and I feel now that I know you all more, even if I never responded to you, than I ever did before and what I have come to know is love, and how different each one of us is, and how much we all have to share.
I’ve got a lot of work to do this year, and I would love it if you joined me but I understand if you cannot. I will be here, creating, regardless, and it’s going to be a lot of fun.
G
It would have been a fairly simple matter to not write a letter. We can often re-establish ourselves through simple action as opposed to words but that hasn’t been my style this year as I have become more open and connected. Which has been, like all things, both positive and negative. And if you are a casual follower then please, go about your normal business unless you feel there might be something in this letter for you. I am very close to having my own place on the web to put things like this.
1 year.
A year in and I had always thought I would take a look at things once it had passed since the breakup of the band. I saw a lot of great things, a lot of honesty and a lot of courage, a lot of self expression through words or art or feelings and it was rewarding to know you are followed, through your art, by people of such passion, conviction, and self awareness.
I have, for some time, felt that connecting too close would bring with it some negative things. Things out of my control but things nonetheless, and of course I was right, though this did not deter me from continuing to be open. But the last few months have felt different. And it wasn’t specifically any one event but the building up of many, and the sound of too much white-noise. Too much access leading to only the same type of confusion and unrest that I have seen throughout the year. But again I want to stress that all of this has been good progress and good learning. Positive and negative.
As an artist, I am continually reminded and encouraged to be of limited access to the audience. But I found that this is not my way- well, not all of the time. Actually it is both in and out of access I need to be. There is a time and a place for both. I have learned this.
When I started being open for the first time in what felt like ages, it truly did feel that it was helping. Helping some of us get through for sure but it also helped me a great deal in accepting things. It became a kind of therapy for me, and even the occasional anger and frustration I would field all added up in my head, creating a large broad-stroke picture.
The thing that was mildly disheartening, and resulting in somewhat of a restructuring of how I operate, is the division, or the need to create fantasies of separation in order to cure anger, boredom, or frustration.
It is difficult for people, including myself, to see the truth for what it is- again because it is boring, and it doesn’t agitate or excite us in the same way as a fantasy, like a drug. But in the year, something that stood out was witnessing a fair amount of people try to divide up a situation, like a band, into “camps” or “sides”. Literally seeking to pull apart the very friends that created the reason we even have a dialogue, why you are even interested. If I could say there is any kind of behavior that I would rather not have witnessed it was that. The aims of the confused or bored. But I’m glad that I did because it makes sense- that in all the chaos of a break-up people needed an order of things, and a side to take, fictitious in origin as they may be.
But I think the thing that I learned the most, and have come to embrace, is the simple fact that you cannot, and will not take everyone with you. As an empath it is in our nature to want to reach everyone, share with everyone, get everyone to love each other to keep the feeling in the room somewhat manageable for the empathetic as opposed to the rollercoaster of extreme emotions which tend to feel like going from feeding ducks in a pond to witnessing a car accident. It’s the same when playing live for ten people or ten thousand. A rush-in of emotion, good and bad, it becomes the performers job to then inspire a positive connection throughout the audience, that they then share, though we can sometimes fail at this, and often it is because of a very vocal and negative minority. The performer lets that bit get through the wall and it starts to fall apart. You have seen it before when going to see your favorite band live. I call it “the one-finger” rule, and a person that possesses a desire for a negative reaction a “one-finger” because it is usually within an audience of a thousand raised sets of hands in togetherness that, if you look hard enough, you will find the one middle-finger extended out. Almost 100% of the time it isn’t negative but the desire for a reaction, which is all any of us really want- a reaction. To be loved.
Know this, that I am aware it exists and I’m also aware it is small. I am aware it is simple noise, easily tuned out if in the right headspace, which we are all capable of. I would like to imagine that all of us, including my friends know this as well. I don’t generalize a tremendous fanbase like this one. It would be naïve. The outpouring of positive emotion and support for an idea and it’s individuals has been unmanageable in it’s size. So thank you.
But it has always been my job to create, not ask you what I should create before I do it, as that would do you an enormous disservice. This time I do not seek a bubble, or to close myself off. I seek to keep the thread alive, but a thread and not an alarm. This year has been a lot of fun and I feel now that I know you all more, even if I never responded to you, than I ever did before and what I have come to know is love, and how different each one of us is, and how much we all have to share.
I’ve got a lot of work to do this year, and I would love it if you joined me but I understand if you cannot. I will be here, creating, regardless, and it’s going to be a lot of fun.
G
(10:26)
31/01/2014
Adam Lazzara
SO HAPPY to see his current figure!!!
The band's best quality music video! And I'm waiting for more of their new songs...
(8:45 p.m.)
The band's best quality music video! And I'm waiting for more of their new songs...
(8:45 p.m.)
08/01/2014
03/01/2014
Good that
John O'Callaghan seems to be mature now, and I like that he now often steps aside/behind in group shots, whether was asked to or voluntary. Also, his current haircut is great!
(09.12.13 - 10:25 p.m.)
(09.12.13 - 10:25 p.m.)
12/11/2013
Factors
Benedict Cumberbatch
Tim Hiddleston (thought he's from Sweden...)
Cory Bond
A Dsutland Fairytale, Just Another Girl
(shh) Wrecking Ball
(10:36 p.m.)
Tim Hiddleston (thought he's from Sweden...)
Cory Bond
A Dsutland Fairytale, Just Another Girl
(shh) Wrecking Ball
(10:36 p.m.)
18/10/2013
Weekend
Thought I had to wait until Novembre for the song of The Sounds, it turns out that they've offered a free download since last month!
(9:15 p.m.)
(9:15 p.m.)
06/10/2013
02/08/2013
MCR
Okay, so I'm too left behind this: just knew that Glee covered My Chemical Romance's SING!!
(10:48 p.m.)
(10:48 p.m.)
27/07/2013
25/07/2013
17/07/2013
Neu und Alt
A very nice song, so does the video.
Lars really disappoints me. Auf wiedersehen.
(11:00 p.m.)
23/05/2013
20/05/2013
19/05/2013
Biffy Clyro CNN
The radio news played snippets of the band's Black Chandelier yesterday, what a surprise!!!
(6:19 p.m.)
(6:19 p.m.)
07/04/2013
Germany
Finally, March passed (Neuers Geburtstag was probably the only good thing).
It feels so Europe today!
Biffy X KOL!
One of ZDF's anchorwomen, Gundula Gause, has worked there for 20 Jahre. Herr Kleber presented a bunch of flowers and video clips of her were played the other night, which was so heartwarming!
(5:53 p.m.)
It feels so Europe today!
Biffy X KOL!
One of ZDF's anchorwomen, Gundula Gause, has worked there for 20 Jahre. Herr Kleber presented a bunch of flowers and video clips of her were played the other night, which was so heartwarming!
(5:53 p.m.)
25/03/2013
MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE
A long message with sincerity from our frontman:
"A Vigil, On Birds and Glass.
I woke up this morning still dreaming, or not fully aware of myself just yet. The sun poked through the windows, touching my face, and then a deep sadness overcame me, immediately, bringing me to life and realization- My Chemical Romance had ended.
I walked downstairs to do the only thing I could think of to regain composure-
I made coffee.
As the drip began, in that kind of silence that only happens in the morning, and being the only one awake, I stepped outside my home, leaving the door open behind me. I looked around and began to breathe. Things looked to be about the same- a beautiful day.
As I turned to step back into the house I heard sound from within, a chirp and a rustle. And I noticed a small brown bird had flown into the library. Naturally, I panicked. I knew I had to see the bird to safety and I knew I had to retain the order of things in our home, and he very well couldn’t take up residency with us. I chased him (still assuming he was a he) into my office, where I have these very large windows.
Just then, and luckily, I heard Lindsey’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and naturally being composed as she is, she grabbed a blanket and stepped into the office. He was impossible to catch, and I began to open the windows, via Lindsey’s direction, only to find out they were screened. The bird began to fly into the glass, over and over and in all different directions.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack!
I heard another set of footsteps, Bandit’s, running down the stairs in anticipation of the new day. Her entrance into the situation caused just the right amount of chaos (she was very excited to meet the bird) and we found ourselves chasing the bird into the living room. Knowing that this where it could potentially get sticky, being the high ceilings and the beams to perch on, I opened the front door as Lindsey did her best to encourage our new friend out the door. After some coaxing, flying, chirping, a wrong turn back into the library and a short goodbye to Bandit, he simply hopped out the front door- taking off on the fifth leap.
We cheered.
I was no longer sad.
I didn’t realize it, but I stopped being sad the minute that bird had come into my life, because there was something that needed doing, a small vessel to aid and an order to keep. I closed the door. I decided to write the letter I always knew I would.
It is often my nature to be abstract, hidden in plain sight, or nowhere at all. I have always felt that the art I have made (alone or with friends) contains all of my intent when executed properly, and thus, no explanation required. It is simply not in my nature to excuse, explain, or justify any action I have taken as a result of thinking it through with a clear head, and in my truth.
I had always felt this situation involving the end of this band would be different, in the eventuality it happened. I would be cryptic in its existence, and open upon its death.
The clearest actions come from truth, not obligation. And the truth of the matter is that I love every one of you.
So, if this finds you well, and sheds some light on anything, or my personal account and feelings on the matter, then it is out of this love, mutual and shared, not duty.
Love.
This was always my intent.
My Chemical Romance: 2001-2013
We were spectacular.
Every show I knew this, every show I felt it with or without external confirmation.
There were some clunkers, sometimes our secondhand gear broke, sometimes I had no voice- we were still great. It is this belief that made us who we were, but also many other things, all of them vital-
And all of the things that made us great were the very things that were going to end us-
Fiction. Friction. Creation. Destruction. Opposition. Aggression. Ambition. Heart. Hate. Courage. Spite. Beauty. Desperation. LOVE. Fear. Glamour. Weakness. Hope.
Fatalism.
That last one is very important. My Chemical Romance had, built within its core, a fail-safe. A doomsday device, should certain events occur or cease occurring, would detonate. I shared knowledge of this “flaw” within weeks of its inception.
Personally, I embraced it because, again, it made us perfect. A perfect machine, beautiful, yet self aware of it’s system. Under directive to terminate before it becomes compromised. To protect the idea- at all costs. This probably sounds like something ripped from the pages of a four-color comic book, and that’s the point.
No compromise. No surrender. No fucking shit.
To me that’s rock and roll. And I believe in rock and roll.
I wasn’t shy about who I said this to, not the press, or a fan, or a relative. It’s in the lyrics, it’s in the banter. I often watched the journalists snicker at mention of it, assuming I was being sensational or melodramatic (in their defense I was most likely dressed as an apocalyptic marching-band leader with a tear-away hospital gown and a face covered in expressionist paint, so fair enough).
I’m still not sure if the mechanism worked correctly, because it wasn’t a bang but a much slower process. But still the same result, and still for the same reason-
When it’s time, we stop.
It is important to understand that for us, the opinion on whether or not it is in fact time does not transmit from the audience. Again, this is to protect the idea for the benefit of the audience. Many a band have waited for external confirmation that it is time to hang it up, via ticket sales, chart positioning, boos and bottles of urine- input that holds no sway for us, and often too late when it comes anyway.
You should know it in your being, if you listen to the truth inside you. And voice inside became louder than the music.
Now-
There are many reasons My Chemical Romance ended. The triggerman is unimportant, as was always the messengers- but the message, again as always, is the important thing. But to reiterate, this is my account, my reasons and my feelings. And I can assure you there was no divorce, argument, failure, accident, villain, or knife in the back that caused this, again this was no one’s fault, and it had been quietly in the works, whether we knew it or not, long before any sensationalism, scandal, or rumor.
There wasn’t even a blaze of glory in a hail of bullets…
I am backstage in Asbury Park, New Jersey. It is Saturday, May 19th, 2012 and I am pacing behind a massive black curtain that leads to the stage. I feel the breeze from the ocean find its way around me and I look down at my arms, which are covered in fresh gauze due to a losing battle with a heat rash, which had been a mysterious problem in recent months. I am normally not nervous before a show but I am certainly filled with angry butterflies most of the time. This is different- a strange anxiety jetting through me that I can only imagine is the sixth sense one feels before their last moments alive. My pupils have zeroed-out and I have ceased blinking. My body temperature is icy.
We get the cue to hit the stage.
The show is… good. Not great, not bad, just good. The first thing I notice take me by surprise is not the enormous amount of people in front of us but off to my left- the shore and the vastness of the ocean. Much more blue than I remembered as a boy. The sky is just as vibrant. I perform, semi-automatically, and something is wrong.
I am acting. I never act on stage, even when it appears that I am, even when I’m hamming it up or delivering a soliloquy. Suddenly, I have become highly self-aware, almost as if waking from a dream. I began to move faster, more frantic, reckless- trying to shake it off- but all it began to create was silence. The amps, the cheers, all began to fade.
All that what left was the voice inside, and I could hear it clearly. It didn’t have to yell- it whispered, and said to me briefly, plainly, and kindly- what it had to say.
What it said is between me and the voice.
I ignored it, and the following months were full of suffering for me- I hollowed out, stopped listening to music, never picked up a pencil, started slipping into old habits. All of the vibrancy I used to see became de-saturated. Lost. I used to see art or magic in everything, especially the mundane- the ability was buried under wreckage.
Slowly, once I had done enough damage to myself, I began to climb out of the hole. Clean. When I made it out, the only thing left inside was the voice, and for the second time in my life, I no longer ignored it- because it was my own.
There are many roles for all of us to play in this ending. We can be well-wishers, ill-wishers, sympathizers, vilifiers, comedians, rain clouds, victims-
That last one, again, is important. I have never thought myself a victim, nor my comrades, nor the fans- especially not the fans. For us to adopt that role right now would legitimize everything the tabloids have tried to name us. More importantly, it completely misses the point of the band. And then what have we learned?
With honor, integrity, closure, and on no one’s terms but our own- the door closes.
And another opens-
This morning I awoke early. I quickly brushed my teeth, threw on some baggy jeans, and hopped in my car. I gently sped down the 405 through the morning fog to a random parking lot in Palo Verde, where I was to meet a nice gentleman named Norm. He was older, and a self-proclaimed “hippie” but he also had the energy of Sixteen year old in a garage-rock band. The purpose of the meeting was the delivery of an amplifier into my possession. I had recently purchased the amp from him and we both agreed that shipping would jostle the tubes- so he was kind enough to meet me in the middle.
A Fender Princeton Amp from 1965, non reverb. A beautiful little device.
He showed me the finer points, the speaker, the non-grounded plug, the original label and the chalk mark of the man or woman who built it-
“This amp talks.” he said.
I smiled.
We got coffee, talked about gold-foil pickups and life. We sat in the car and played each other music we had made. We parted ways, promising to stay in touch, I drove home.
When I wanted to start My Chemical Romance, I began by sitting in my parent’s basement, picking up an instrument I had long abandoned for the brush- a guitar. It was a 90’s Fender Mexican Stratocaster, Lake Placid Blue, but in my youth I had decided it was too clean and pretty so I beat it up, exposing some of the red paint underneath the blue- the color it was meant to be. Adding a piece of duct tape on the pick guard, it felt acceptable. I plugged this into a baby Crate Amp with built in distortion and began the first chords of Skylines and Turnstiles.
I still have that guitar, and it’s sitting next to The Princeton.
He has a voice, and I would like to hear what it has to say.
In closing, I want to thank every single fan. I have learned from you, maybe more than you think you’ve learned from me. My only regret is that I am awful with names and bad with goodbyes. But I never forget a face, or a feeling- and that is what I have left from all of you.
I feel Love.
I feel love for you, for our crew, our team, and for every single human being I have shared the band and stage with-
Ray. Mikey. Frank. Matt. Bob. James. Todd. Cortez. Tucker. Pete. Michael. Jarrod.
Since I am bad with goodbyes. I refuse to let this be one. But I will leave you with one last thing-
My Chemical Romance is done. But it can never die.
It is alive in me, in the guys, and it is alive inside all of you.
I always knew that, and I think you did too.
Because it is not a band-
it is an idea.
Love,
Gerard"
(10:23 p.m.)
Gerard Way @gerardway
25th March 2013 from TwitLonger
"A Vigil, On Birds and Glass.
I woke up this morning still dreaming, or not fully aware of myself just yet. The sun poked through the windows, touching my face, and then a deep sadness overcame me, immediately, bringing me to life and realization- My Chemical Romance had ended.
I walked downstairs to do the only thing I could think of to regain composure-
I made coffee.
As the drip began, in that kind of silence that only happens in the morning, and being the only one awake, I stepped outside my home, leaving the door open behind me. I looked around and began to breathe. Things looked to be about the same- a beautiful day.
As I turned to step back into the house I heard sound from within, a chirp and a rustle. And I noticed a small brown bird had flown into the library. Naturally, I panicked. I knew I had to see the bird to safety and I knew I had to retain the order of things in our home, and he very well couldn’t take up residency with us. I chased him (still assuming he was a he) into my office, where I have these very large windows.
Just then, and luckily, I heard Lindsey’s footsteps coming down the stairs, and naturally being composed as she is, she grabbed a blanket and stepped into the office. He was impossible to catch, and I began to open the windows, via Lindsey’s direction, only to find out they were screened. The bird began to fly into the glass, over and over and in all different directions.
Smack.
Smack.
Smack!
I heard another set of footsteps, Bandit’s, running down the stairs in anticipation of the new day. Her entrance into the situation caused just the right amount of chaos (she was very excited to meet the bird) and we found ourselves chasing the bird into the living room. Knowing that this where it could potentially get sticky, being the high ceilings and the beams to perch on, I opened the front door as Lindsey did her best to encourage our new friend out the door. After some coaxing, flying, chirping, a wrong turn back into the library and a short goodbye to Bandit, he simply hopped out the front door- taking off on the fifth leap.
We cheered.
I was no longer sad.
I didn’t realize it, but I stopped being sad the minute that bird had come into my life, because there was something that needed doing, a small vessel to aid and an order to keep. I closed the door. I decided to write the letter I always knew I would.
It is often my nature to be abstract, hidden in plain sight, or nowhere at all. I have always felt that the art I have made (alone or with friends) contains all of my intent when executed properly, and thus, no explanation required. It is simply not in my nature to excuse, explain, or justify any action I have taken as a result of thinking it through with a clear head, and in my truth.
I had always felt this situation involving the end of this band would be different, in the eventuality it happened. I would be cryptic in its existence, and open upon its death.
The clearest actions come from truth, not obligation. And the truth of the matter is that I love every one of you.
So, if this finds you well, and sheds some light on anything, or my personal account and feelings on the matter, then it is out of this love, mutual and shared, not duty.
Love.
This was always my intent.
My Chemical Romance: 2001-2013
We were spectacular.
Every show I knew this, every show I felt it with or without external confirmation.
There were some clunkers, sometimes our secondhand gear broke, sometimes I had no voice- we were still great. It is this belief that made us who we were, but also many other things, all of them vital-
And all of the things that made us great were the very things that were going to end us-
Fiction. Friction. Creation. Destruction. Opposition. Aggression. Ambition. Heart. Hate. Courage. Spite. Beauty. Desperation. LOVE. Fear. Glamour. Weakness. Hope.
Fatalism.
That last one is very important. My Chemical Romance had, built within its core, a fail-safe. A doomsday device, should certain events occur or cease occurring, would detonate. I shared knowledge of this “flaw” within weeks of its inception.
Personally, I embraced it because, again, it made us perfect. A perfect machine, beautiful, yet self aware of it’s system. Under directive to terminate before it becomes compromised. To protect the idea- at all costs. This probably sounds like something ripped from the pages of a four-color comic book, and that’s the point.
No compromise. No surrender. No fucking shit.
To me that’s rock and roll. And I believe in rock and roll.
I wasn’t shy about who I said this to, not the press, or a fan, or a relative. It’s in the lyrics, it’s in the banter. I often watched the journalists snicker at mention of it, assuming I was being sensational or melodramatic (in their defense I was most likely dressed as an apocalyptic marching-band leader with a tear-away hospital gown and a face covered in expressionist paint, so fair enough).
I’m still not sure if the mechanism worked correctly, because it wasn’t a bang but a much slower process. But still the same result, and still for the same reason-
When it’s time, we stop.
It is important to understand that for us, the opinion on whether or not it is in fact time does not transmit from the audience. Again, this is to protect the idea for the benefit of the audience. Many a band have waited for external confirmation that it is time to hang it up, via ticket sales, chart positioning, boos and bottles of urine- input that holds no sway for us, and often too late when it comes anyway.
You should know it in your being, if you listen to the truth inside you. And voice inside became louder than the music.
Now-
There are many reasons My Chemical Romance ended. The triggerman is unimportant, as was always the messengers- but the message, again as always, is the important thing. But to reiterate, this is my account, my reasons and my feelings. And I can assure you there was no divorce, argument, failure, accident, villain, or knife in the back that caused this, again this was no one’s fault, and it had been quietly in the works, whether we knew it or not, long before any sensationalism, scandal, or rumor.
There wasn’t even a blaze of glory in a hail of bullets…
I am backstage in Asbury Park, New Jersey. It is Saturday, May 19th, 2012 and I am pacing behind a massive black curtain that leads to the stage. I feel the breeze from the ocean find its way around me and I look down at my arms, which are covered in fresh gauze due to a losing battle with a heat rash, which had been a mysterious problem in recent months. I am normally not nervous before a show but I am certainly filled with angry butterflies most of the time. This is different- a strange anxiety jetting through me that I can only imagine is the sixth sense one feels before their last moments alive. My pupils have zeroed-out and I have ceased blinking. My body temperature is icy.
We get the cue to hit the stage.
The show is… good. Not great, not bad, just good. The first thing I notice take me by surprise is not the enormous amount of people in front of us but off to my left- the shore and the vastness of the ocean. Much more blue than I remembered as a boy. The sky is just as vibrant. I perform, semi-automatically, and something is wrong.
I am acting. I never act on stage, even when it appears that I am, even when I’m hamming it up or delivering a soliloquy. Suddenly, I have become highly self-aware, almost as if waking from a dream. I began to move faster, more frantic, reckless- trying to shake it off- but all it began to create was silence. The amps, the cheers, all began to fade.
All that what left was the voice inside, and I could hear it clearly. It didn’t have to yell- it whispered, and said to me briefly, plainly, and kindly- what it had to say.
What it said is between me and the voice.
I ignored it, and the following months were full of suffering for me- I hollowed out, stopped listening to music, never picked up a pencil, started slipping into old habits. All of the vibrancy I used to see became de-saturated. Lost. I used to see art or magic in everything, especially the mundane- the ability was buried under wreckage.
Slowly, once I had done enough damage to myself, I began to climb out of the hole. Clean. When I made it out, the only thing left inside was the voice, and for the second time in my life, I no longer ignored it- because it was my own.
There are many roles for all of us to play in this ending. We can be well-wishers, ill-wishers, sympathizers, vilifiers, comedians, rain clouds, victims-
That last one, again, is important. I have never thought myself a victim, nor my comrades, nor the fans- especially not the fans. For us to adopt that role right now would legitimize everything the tabloids have tried to name us. More importantly, it completely misses the point of the band. And then what have we learned?
With honor, integrity, closure, and on no one’s terms but our own- the door closes.
And another opens-
This morning I awoke early. I quickly brushed my teeth, threw on some baggy jeans, and hopped in my car. I gently sped down the 405 through the morning fog to a random parking lot in Palo Verde, where I was to meet a nice gentleman named Norm. He was older, and a self-proclaimed “hippie” but he also had the energy of Sixteen year old in a garage-rock band. The purpose of the meeting was the delivery of an amplifier into my possession. I had recently purchased the amp from him and we both agreed that shipping would jostle the tubes- so he was kind enough to meet me in the middle.
A Fender Princeton Amp from 1965, non reverb. A beautiful little device.
He showed me the finer points, the speaker, the non-grounded plug, the original label and the chalk mark of the man or woman who built it-
“This amp talks.” he said.
I smiled.
We got coffee, talked about gold-foil pickups and life. We sat in the car and played each other music we had made. We parted ways, promising to stay in touch, I drove home.
When I wanted to start My Chemical Romance, I began by sitting in my parent’s basement, picking up an instrument I had long abandoned for the brush- a guitar. It was a 90’s Fender Mexican Stratocaster, Lake Placid Blue, but in my youth I had decided it was too clean and pretty so I beat it up, exposing some of the red paint underneath the blue- the color it was meant to be. Adding a piece of duct tape on the pick guard, it felt acceptable. I plugged this into a baby Crate Amp with built in distortion and began the first chords of Skylines and Turnstiles.
I still have that guitar, and it’s sitting next to The Princeton.
He has a voice, and I would like to hear what it has to say.
In closing, I want to thank every single fan. I have learned from you, maybe more than you think you’ve learned from me. My only regret is that I am awful with names and bad with goodbyes. But I never forget a face, or a feeling- and that is what I have left from all of you.
I feel Love.
I feel love for you, for our crew, our team, and for every single human being I have shared the band and stage with-
Ray. Mikey. Frank. Matt. Bob. James. Todd. Cortez. Tucker. Pete. Michael. Jarrod.
Since I am bad with goodbyes. I refuse to let this be one. But I will leave you with one last thing-
My Chemical Romance is done. But it can never die.
It is alive in me, in the guys, and it is alive inside all of you.
I always knew that, and I think you did too.
Because it is not a band-
it is an idea.
Love,
Gerard"
(10:23 p.m.)
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