"Have you ever felt it when your brain goes numb but it's not anything you've said or done but the guy on stage has you in awe and you can't move but you feel it, right down to your bones. It's not the clothes he's wearing or the friends you're with or the band he's in or that classical guitar he's playing and just when you think the climax was hit he comes on like a steam engine on a tornado track and he pushes you there and then he races you back. He's making you glad and he's making you sad, he's making you mean and all the time he's bouncing 'round like a pinball machine. You can just make out that far distant drum and that guitar in your mind you faintly hear strum and he's wailing funky lics that you can't even hum. I've done it in concert halls, felt it in rainstorms and seen it on fridays in my basement, it's the music that makes you this way and that rare performer that you never get a chance to play with. Music is emotions and feelings, it's not cheesy when you feel it. It doesn't come from your pen, it's not in your brain, or tapes, records and discs or the book you read. It doesn't come from your parents or friends or those you live with, the road you walk, the mountains you climb, the rivers you swim, the sunsets you watch or sunrises you go to bed to. It's not that bottle of beer she is selling or the words the guy on the sidewalk is yelling, not the peer pressure junkies, your dad or mom's car keys but the things that you feel. You can't find it by running a …
"Have you ever felt it when your brain goes numb but it's not anything you've said or done but the guy on stage has you in awe and you can't move but you feel it, right down to your bones. It's not the clothes he's wearing or the friends you're with or the band he's in or that classical guitar he's playing and just when you think the climax was hit he comes on like a steam engine on a tornado track and he pushes you there and then he races you back. He's making you glad and he's making you sad, he's making you mean and all the time he's bouncing 'round like a pinball machine. You can just make out that far distant drum and that guitar in your mind you faintly hear strum and he's wailing funky lics that you can't even hum. I've done it in concert halls, felt it in rainstorms and seen it on fridays in my basement, it's the music that makes you this way and that rare performer that you never get a chance to play with. Music is emotions and feelings, it's not cheesy when you feel it. It doesn't come from your pen, it's not in your brain, or tapes, records and discs or the book you read. It doesn't come from your parents or friends or those you live with, the road you walk, the mountains you climb, the rivers you swim, the sunsets you watch or sunrises you go to bed to. It's not that bottle of beer she is selling or the words the guy on the sidewalk is yelling, not the peer pressure junkies, your dad or mom's car keys but the things that you feel. You can't find it by running away. You don't become it when you take your own life. You lose it when you put that needle in your arm. You feel it! It's you, it's in me, it's your heart, your soul, your thoughts and emotions and I believe it's Peirson - a romantic, a lunatic, a jester, a scholar, a musician, a talent, a friend."
- Christopher James Reble
