You play music because you have to.
In fact, sometimes you try to settle down,
But then it comes back worse than ever.
You're back buying instruments, capos, and amps
Trying to find guys to help you put out THE SOUND
That magic sound
You give up everything, going to movies, going out with friends.
You can't keep your mind on anything, except that beat.
That combination of notes, rhythm, and words from your soul,
You hope will touch somwhere that will cause someone to smile,
maybe even cause a tear.
The guys begin to mean more to you than anybody you've ever known.
They are friends, but much more than that.
They are soulmates, but much more than that.
They enable you to share your soul with the world.
Then all of a sudden you realize that there are five of you.
Each one contributing a riff here, ideas that come from no where.
But they all begin to click together you don't know where they come from,
All five of you, together, make one - you're a band.
I waited over thirty years, putting up with the drunks, people that don't show up.
Because one day it will get better, it has to, what else can you do, but play.
Then one day it gets better, you knew it would.
It's been a rough time on the Blue Rock Band over the last year.
First with the complications from my diabetes, we lost a little ground.
Now, our drummer has had a severe heart attack.
The lord has smiled on us again, Ed is gonna be alright.
Get better, so we can rock the hillbilly world again.
I couldn't do it with anybody but you guys
Ed, Jerry, Micah, Phil, and Spud- I love you guys
We're a band
—Taylor