I can’t get those guitar solos loud enough tonight. These solos rip through your veins like the unending anger of the universe.
These solos sear through the sky and erupt into the secret hidden shadows of your unrealized dreams.
These solos tap the rage that you can never admit openly in your daily life.
Because it’s socially unacceptable.
Here comes Billy blazing his guitar solo across the expanse of earth’s vast oceans, down through the streets of Chicago, clear across the nation, over to Seattle and back again.
Now it whips up over Canada and Alaska and Antarctica, then it circles the globe again 3 times until you’re breathless in awe.
You don’t have words for that shit, and neither does anybody.
These guitar notes tear over the rolling brown hills of America; they descend into purple sunset evenings in Wisconsin with explosive fury, they roar across the horizon in Maine before gently sliding down into the quiet peace of early mornings everywhere.
These solos lift you up into the bright blue sky of everywhere, right before you drop into gothic whirlpools of chaos.
Here comes that brief flash of promise and eternity, here comes the hope you’ve always needed right before you crash into the daily grind of hell, the maddening whirlpool of routine, the heart of darkness and the prison of your life.
Now, here we are again.
Here we are inside that screaming pain, that pain with the power to split molecules and alter the course of DNA, here we are reaching deep into that rare jewel composed of math, faith, poetry and spirituality.
Just let it all wash over you and participate in a marathon of sensation, doom and rage, inspiration, e-bows, spirituality, circus shows, madness, lost love, new love, rage, swirling mirrors, the Bending Mirrors of Perception, viewpoints changed in a single flash from song-to-song, new insights, old gripes, old fears, new fears, new beginnings, the city, the country, friends, hatred & rage, and the beauty of nature.
The Source flows into your headphones from the echoes of the universe, soaring in your body now, but transmitted from one single moment in time when a group of talented musicians sharpened their receiving antennas in a single moment of creativity + vision, manifested over days or months in a recording studio, lead onward by a musical genius conductor with a particularly sharp antenna tapping the outer reaches of spirituality while all other hands in the studio, including producer and engineer, worked feverishly while their minds electrified in unison to the ultimate mission – delivering this magnificent passage of glory into you.
Here we find a sound that defies the limitation of human imagination and callous explanations of musical theory.
We find the element of music that is true magic.
We find true creativity.
And now the Pumpkins soothe the faithful listener with wispy, acoustic guitar strains and light airy suspended chords coming at you through the black starry sky.
We are still in the chaos of eternal space and fury, but now comes the whisper of comfort and soft spirituality like a soothing balm to your aching need for connection and everything is all right for just this moment.
Everything is okay inside the extended time capsule of life.
You’ll play the music all fucking night on days like this.