I was in the East Village the other day, and the art kids were out in force. They were all buzzing around having fun being alive. I used to be an art kid, although I usually buzzed around having fun being alive in the woods instead of in the East Village. I was already past my wildest youth when I came to this city. That's not to say I was too old to have a good time when I got here, but these folks stirred an earlier memory of what it was like to crank my bass amp, or drive through the night, or get myself covered in ink and pastels in the pursuit of something really pure and urgent. So I thought about the past, and I cranked out this quick little guitar tune about being younger than I am.
I was the noise in the back of my head
I was my knuckles white on the wheel
I was the hairs on the back of my neck standing up
I was scared that what I didn't know yet was too much