Getting back on the horse
Start buckin'
I don’t know what my deal is with horses.
I’ve been on a single horse in my entire life, 30-something years ago, definitely before age 10. Would you like to guess what happened? Blondie got bucked the fuck off.
Horses, however, are inseparable from American culture and the values of freedom, endurance and efficiency. No other single thing can better signify America’s determined, destined expansion westward nor the grit of our ancestors as they worked their way from coast to coast, nor could it better capture the free spirit of the people who were here before us.
A majestic beast through and through, the horse is an icon, even in music. Neil Young & Crazy Horse. “A Horse with No Name.” Bringing Down the Horse in a “One Horse Town.” Sparklehorse. “Wild Horses” and Foals, a Bonny Light Horseman with a Horse Jumper of Love, even “Paul Revere.” The horse has been everywhere, man.
Even my last attempt at making some music had origins with the horse. Granted, it’s a zombie pegasus commandeered by a giant raven, but as much as I wanted to call it SLOW HORSE, some assholes at Apple TV beat me to it.
Ill-fated, to be sure; even the artwork was AI generated, “create an album cover with a dark bird flying on the back of a horse that gives 1970s classic rock Zuma vibes,” then “more terrifying” and “less crow, more raven.”
Forgive me; I have forgotten where I was going with this. I digress.
Long may you run, horsey.
Anyway, I’m back on the horse, whatever that means to you.
Rock’n’roll.
-CMB