| Here at Last Plane
to Jakarta, we know where our sympathies lie. High on Fire live
was one of the two or three best shows we’ve ever seen; the songs
began like huge howling waves and then crashed, foam & broken
masthead everywhere, one after another. Most shows bore me by the
time I’ve heard a couple of songs; I never wanted this one to
end. Pike’s focus on what he was doing was a wonder to behold;
he stood anchored to his place on the stage, moving only his upper
body and his head sometimes but usually standing as if immobilized
by an electrical current running through him. I have no children,
but in my daily life I work with some, and if they were to ask me
where to look for a role model – to the Mets’ front office
or to Matt Pike – I know which way I’d point them, even
if I had to lie about it to the people who sign my paycheck. So that’s all I’ve got this week; I’m sorry there isn’t more, but the Contac generic equivalent I’ve been gulping down has got the better of me, and I must be going. Things may get a little sporadic over the next month of so, since I’ll be leaving town several times; we’ll do what we can to update every Sunday night as we’ve done without fail (save those two times when it couldn’t be helped) for a year and a half now. Meanwhile, if High on Fire comes through your town, go see them. They are people who’ve got their heads screwed on right. We will see you next week. |
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