|
|
Anyway, he
took out his guitar and  played me
one of his songs. I wish I could say
that it sucked, that it was as pretentious
and self-absorbed as he is. But it was
beautiful, a simple tune about riding his motorcycle
upstate through these little farms he
sometimes dreams of living on.
Then we went back to his place on Avenue C
which gets me to our final topic with
regard to Boy Number Two:
|
|
|
Two nights later I met Boy Number Two on the street near the dank space
where his band rehearses.
Neither of us were
hungry so we just decided to get a couple of
40-ouncers and "hang out" in a park in Little Italy
not so far from John Gotti's infamous social club.
We drank the beer and Tommy talked about himself
mostly, about his band, about how his music was
evolving from what he termed country-art-rock into
something he termed alternative-folk-noise.
|
