Beethoven and Bach met up one day to check out a Miles Davis concert. At the table next to them Frank Zappa and Stanley Clarke were bouncing ideas off each other about sound on sound techniques and how syncopation and rhythmic unison can co-exist under the same poncho. Ice Cube, Easy E and Dre walk in to shoot the place up, but before violence erupts David Lee Roth and Eddie Van Halen hand them a smoke and tell them to chill. Miles finishes his set, thanks god and goes home. The crowd lingers while Maynard Keenan and Adam Jones take over the juke box and start putting on the most random play-list ever to be created. Meanwhile, armed with laptop and headphones, Trent Reznor begins scoring the scene that has unfolded before his eyes. Rob Zombie bought the movie rights. And Tom Morello adjusted his whammy. -done- Other people may claim to be 'unique' or 'diverse' or what have you... and I can't discredit them all. Some genuinely are. Others are just weird for the sake of being weird and evoking shock value; and they hate their art as much as you do, but they thrive on watching you writhe at the sound and sight of their "creativity". I set myself apart from the masses. Too calm to be metal, too young to be jazz, to suburban to be hip-hop, to mainstream to be alternative, and too thought out to be pop. -there I am- The bi-product of a poor Jewish family lucky enough to live in the good end of a bad neighborhood in the age of Mayor Dinkins and Keith Haring. Sampling was prevalent, and the funk and psychedelia of my parents allowed me to identify what these rappers were speaking over. The new wave and hair metal on the radio filtered in as well. I could hear the influence of Jimi on the new school of metal. Just like I could hear metal's influence on Run-Dmc. Just like Run-Dmc revived Aerosmith. -just like it's one big circle- -I make music, not genres- -done-.
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