Tuesday, August 11, 2015
As a tween, I played trumpet in the middle school band not because it was an instrument that interested me in the least, but because to take the class, we had to walk up the hill from the middle school to the high school, allowing about 10 minutes of unsupervised freedom. In that limited allotment, I was able to do everything from get in one fight (shoulda seen the other guy) to make out with no less than one girl on a semi-weekly basis. It -- was baller. And I was living life to it's fullest, even though I was the last chair, behind a dude with no lips.
For some reason, the abundance of horns on this track hearkened back to the be-braced days where my largest worries were how the hell I was going to beat my brother at Super Tecmo Bowl that night and when that elusive second-base would finally ripen for my plucking. Memories, y'all. Powerful stuff.
See what it does for you.