Music Is Worth Living For
It's 2003.
I'm in the back of a van on a road trip through West Virginia. At this point, I'm about halfway through high school already driving and working, had my heart broken a couple times so I think I know everything there is to know about life; you know, typical American teenager. Anyway, so my buddy on this trip with me has a mix CD because in 2003, those were still a thing, and on it are two different Andrew W.K. tracks: the ubiquitous Party Hard and self-explanatory I Love NYC.
I've never heard of this guy before so I have absolutely no preconceptions about his sound and what I'm greeted with is Meatloaf-esque arena rock with overdriven guitars, anthemic choruses, and fast-as-you-can melodies. It initially has me rolling my eyes; the inane simplicity of it all, the heavy repetition ("Party hard" is screamed over forty times during the track)...but there's something undeniably catchy about the whole so-dumb-it's-fun approach. As soon as I get internet access again, I look him up and see a tall, bearded rocker with long hair and dressed in all white. Somehow he always looks wet but never looks clean. This is before the MTV2 show and appearing with the Jackass cast to celebrate the first movie. I make a mental note to pick up his record when I get back home.
It's 2012.
I'm halfway through grad school and poised to head out to study abroad in Argentina in a little over a month. I'm at the 9:30 Club with a friend prepared to catch Andrew W.K. play on the final leg of his comeback tour celebrating the tenth anniversary of his first album. Legal issues with his old record label had kept the party rocking musician from recording in the US and headlining tours for years but those were finally resolved.
I've never seen Andrew W.K. live before but as soon as he bounds onstage, it looks like he emerged unchanged from nearly a decade prior; he hasn't aged a day and is still as energetic as ever. By this time, his message of pure positivity through partying has won me over; the partying was never just a gimmick to Andrew W.K., it was a singular mantra. And just like the Sanskrit meditative technique, his devotion to partying is meant to alter consciousness towards some semblance of enlightenment.
I'm not necessarily that spiritual about partying but I am about music. The stage or the dance floor has always been my chapel and tonight we are about to get a sermon. Andrew tears through his entire first album with the gusto and charisma of someone half his age, clearly having the time of his life. Live music has always been that symbiotic relationship between audience and performers and we're all having a great time together. During his second (!) encore, the band lets the audience on stage and after the final song, Andrew is crowd-surfed off and the party really starts.
It's 2014.
The podcast is in its earliest days; it technically hasn't even come to iTunes yet. Andrew W.K. is the musical guest for Awesome Con this year and has a panel at the show in addition to headlining a set at the Black Cat. I talk to him briefly afterwards and one of his reps messages me letting me know I'm on the guest list for the show. I go to the venue that night and watch him play a truncated set but, in sharp contrast to the last show I saw him play, crowdsurfing at the Black Cat is strictly forbidden. While it doesn't stop several fans from doing it during the performance, they are immediately escorted out of the venue by security which Andrew notices sheepishly. It's a fun night...but a weird one too; something feels off.
It's last week.
I've been trying to branch out into music press for months. We had interviewed a handful of independent artists over the years and I had done the runaround with various bands and publicists for awhile but with little to show for it. After months of sending out media kits to record labels and PR reps, I hear back from Andrew W.K.'s people; he's open for a quick phone interview after wrapping the first leg of the tour for his latest album You're Not Alone. His availability is limited so I take the field recorder in my office on campus and convert it into a makeshift studio of sorts.
Andrew calls in and we get to talking; in the middle of a full day of press, he audibly is a bit more reserved than I initially expected. I decide to share my own high school experiences listening to his first album and with that personal connection to his music, the interview gains a new energy.
For Andrew W.K., partying became a way of life, a path to absolution. We all look for absolution or enlightenment somewhere, that sense of purpose that reminds us why we started in the first place. After that conversation, I know how genuine he is about the whole thing, how much he believes and dedicates his life to it; despite the rumors, he's not a persona. He's been pretty public about how his partying helped him overcome depression and anxiety and how important it is for him to spread that gospel.
Me? I mean, I love partying and I love music and pizza and tacos; all things he heartily endorses (His Taco Bell parties up at Port Authority are the stuff of legend). For me, absolution was always about trying to find that measure of serenity in a world that gets increasingly complicated; to remain calm in a raging sea. Sometimes that sea is internal. A lot of times that sea is internal.
I've written on here about how music gives me that, like a melodic meditation. Granted, I've also written about how fighting does that too which is like the complete antithesis so who knows. I do know it was never one thing. It could be singing on stage while wielding my trusty Daphne Blue Stratocaster, it could be cooking up Korean-style ramen while adding western-style BBQ and Monterey Jack, it's those long kisses in the rain, dancing with friends until you're closer to dawn than midnight. Andrew W.K. wasn't singing about partying, not on an abstract level. He was singing about staying true to one's self and finding your center. So I'm glad he's been a presence of sorts over the years and I'm especially glad I got the chance to tell him that.
I'm in the back of a van on a road trip through West Virginia. At this point, I'm about halfway through high school already driving and working, had my heart broken a couple times so I think I know everything there is to know about life; you know, typical American teenager. Anyway, so my buddy on this trip with me has a mix CD because in 2003, those were still a thing, and on it are two different Andrew W.K. tracks: the ubiquitous Party Hard and self-explanatory I Love NYC.
I've never heard of this guy before so I have absolutely no preconceptions about his sound and what I'm greeted with is Meatloaf-esque arena rock with overdriven guitars, anthemic choruses, and fast-as-you-can melodies. It initially has me rolling my eyes; the inane simplicity of it all, the heavy repetition ("Party hard" is screamed over forty times during the track)...but there's something undeniably catchy about the whole so-dumb-it's-fun approach. As soon as I get internet access again, I look him up and see a tall, bearded rocker with long hair and dressed in all white. Somehow he always looks wet but never looks clean. This is before the MTV2 show and appearing with the Jackass cast to celebrate the first movie. I make a mental note to pick up his record when I get back home.
It's 2012.
I'm halfway through grad school and poised to head out to study abroad in Argentina in a little over a month. I'm at the 9:30 Club with a friend prepared to catch Andrew W.K. play on the final leg of his comeback tour celebrating the tenth anniversary of his first album. Legal issues with his old record label had kept the party rocking musician from recording in the US and headlining tours for years but those were finally resolved.
I've never seen Andrew W.K. live before but as soon as he bounds onstage, it looks like he emerged unchanged from nearly a decade prior; he hasn't aged a day and is still as energetic as ever. By this time, his message of pure positivity through partying has won me over; the partying was never just a gimmick to Andrew W.K., it was a singular mantra. And just like the Sanskrit meditative technique, his devotion to partying is meant to alter consciousness towards some semblance of enlightenment.
I'm not necessarily that spiritual about partying but I am about music. The stage or the dance floor has always been my chapel and tonight we are about to get a sermon. Andrew tears through his entire first album with the gusto and charisma of someone half his age, clearly having the time of his life. Live music has always been that symbiotic relationship between audience and performers and we're all having a great time together. During his second (!) encore, the band lets the audience on stage and after the final song, Andrew is crowd-surfed off and the party really starts.
The podcast is in its earliest days; it technically hasn't even come to iTunes yet. Andrew W.K. is the musical guest for Awesome Con this year and has a panel at the show in addition to headlining a set at the Black Cat. I talk to him briefly afterwards and one of his reps messages me letting me know I'm on the guest list for the show. I go to the venue that night and watch him play a truncated set but, in sharp contrast to the last show I saw him play, crowdsurfing at the Black Cat is strictly forbidden. While it doesn't stop several fans from doing it during the performance, they are immediately escorted out of the venue by security which Andrew notices sheepishly. It's a fun night...but a weird one too; something feels off.
It's last week.
I've been trying to branch out into music press for months. We had interviewed a handful of independent artists over the years and I had done the runaround with various bands and publicists for awhile but with little to show for it. After months of sending out media kits to record labels and PR reps, I hear back from Andrew W.K.'s people; he's open for a quick phone interview after wrapping the first leg of the tour for his latest album You're Not Alone. His availability is limited so I take the field recorder in my office on campus and convert it into a makeshift studio of sorts.
Andrew calls in and we get to talking; in the middle of a full day of press, he audibly is a bit more reserved than I initially expected. I decide to share my own high school experiences listening to his first album and with that personal connection to his music, the interview gains a new energy.
For Andrew W.K., partying became a way of life, a path to absolution. We all look for absolution or enlightenment somewhere, that sense of purpose that reminds us why we started in the first place. After that conversation, I know how genuine he is about the whole thing, how much he believes and dedicates his life to it; despite the rumors, he's not a persona. He's been pretty public about how his partying helped him overcome depression and anxiety and how important it is for him to spread that gospel.
Me? I mean, I love partying and I love music and pizza and tacos; all things he heartily endorses (His Taco Bell parties up at Port Authority are the stuff of legend). For me, absolution was always about trying to find that measure of serenity in a world that gets increasingly complicated; to remain calm in a raging sea. Sometimes that sea is internal. A lot of times that sea is internal.
I've written on here about how music gives me that, like a melodic meditation. Granted, I've also written about how fighting does that too which is like the complete antithesis so who knows. I do know it was never one thing. It could be singing on stage while wielding my trusty Daphne Blue Stratocaster, it could be cooking up Korean-style ramen while adding western-style BBQ and Monterey Jack, it's those long kisses in the rain, dancing with friends until you're closer to dawn than midnight. Andrew W.K. wasn't singing about partying, not on an abstract level. He was singing about staying true to one's self and finding your center. So I'm glad he's been a presence of sorts over the years and I'm especially glad I got the chance to tell him that.
