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Also, I guess only PROFESSIONAL musicians can be “moved to tears” by a song? What a smooth brained retard Joseph Cumia is.
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I was a sailorWhy did "highwayman" make him cry
A lot of people see enjoying or making art as a shortcut to being an intellectual.JoeH really thinks he's some special breed of musician, being moved emotionally by music and all. It's not like that's the entire reason why humans find it appealing in the first place.
He’s neither enjoying nor making art. He’s miserable, trying to get famous/ rich with the only skill he has and has never written an original song worth playing. He’s like the 90 year old man who buys $300 in lottery tickets every week.A lot of people see enjoying or making art as a shortcut to being an intellectual.
they closed off the joseph laneWhy did "highwayman" make him cry
best part of that song is that there's a jaunty little sailor music note from the synth after the first line. Why would anyone cry to that song, Art Bell used it for bumper musicI was a sailor
I was borne upon the tide
And with mens seed, I did abide
I sailed a schooner round the Horn to Mexico
I went aloft and furled the main guy with a blow
And when my bridge broke off they said that I got killed
But I am living still
That’s what I’m wondering since it’s about ghosts telling you what they did in their lives. It’s a good song (Fawk Yeah Waylon Jennings!) but I’ve never felt even the slightest sad emotion listening to it. That’s like crying over the song “Pancho & Lefty”Why did "highwayman" make him cry
Have you only heard the fagged-up Willie and Merle version of Pancho & Lefty? The Townes Van Zandt one doesn't make me cry or anything but it's not a happy song.That’s what I’m wondering since it’s about ghosts telling you what they did in their lives. It’s a good song (Fawk Yeah Waylon Jennings!) but I’ve never felt even the slightest sad emotion listening to it. That’s like crying over the song “Pancho & Lefty”
For some reason that was the song that popped into my head in relation to highwayman. Maybe because of Willie being on both songs.Have you only heard the fagged-up Willie and Merle version of Pancho & Lefty? The Townes Van Zandt one doesn't make me cry or anything but it's not a happy song.
Actually I guess you could say the same about The Highwaymen so I don't even know what my fucking point was. The Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard version is shit though and I love both those guys.
Like most amateur guitar hobbyists, Joe wouldn't know "art" if it came up from behind him, cupped his flappy old man moo breasts, and honked. He has all the creativity of a special ed 4th grader making a Mother's Day card out of construction paper and glitter. He creates nothing, he collaborates with no one, he never challenges himself as a musician, and everything he plays is just sheer repetition. He's like real-life Guitar Hero, trying to impress dullards with his low-grade guitar noodling, and trying to convince himself and everyone else that "music is his life", even though by any measure his "career" has been an abject failure in every way.He’s neither enjoying nor making art. He’s miserable, trying to get famous/ rich with the only skill he has and has never written an original song worth playing. He’s like the 90 year old man who buys $300 in lottery tickets every week.
I sometimes wonder if the Cumia brothers personally slighted you somehow lolLike most amateur guitar hobbyists, Joe wouldn't know "art" if it came up from behind him, cupped his flappy old man moo breasts, and honked. He has all the creativity of a special ed 4th grader making a Mother's Day card out of construction paper and glitter. He creates nothing, he collaborates with no one, he never challenges himself as a musician, and everything he plays is just sheer repetition. He's like real-life Guitar Hero, trying to impress dullards with his low-grade guitar noodling, and trying to convince himself and everyone else that "music is his life", even though by any measure his "career" has been an abject failure in every way.
And now he's sitting there in his dingy, dank boat cabin, with his pile of broken teeth, getting all wistful and pissy-eyed over the fact that in a month or so, he'll be back home, and will be even worse off than before he embarked on his big European guitar adventure. He's sitting there all alone, trying to convince himself that he still has some deep, innate connection with his gay music as the doubts and insecurities swirl around in his big empty skull. Joe's nearly at the end of the line, and he knows it.
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