Those of you who follow the Boston music scene have probably read the recent article about Township in the Boston Phoenix in which my friend Marc Pinansky is (uncharacteristically) cranky about the state  or in fact the very existence of the Boston music scene.  A few of my compatriots who have worked hard to build said scene are (understandably) a little miffed at this sentiment.  Here’s my (unsolicited) take:

Do I think there is a vibrant Boston music scene?  Absolutely.  Can it be cliquey and unimaginative at times with the same 4 or 5 bands playing bills together over and over again?  Sure.  Is there any writing device more annoying than a series of three rhetorical questions?  Not really.

Personally, I feel like I play with a lot of different types of bands.  Part of what I try to do with my shows – whether its with the Cover-Up series or any of the myriad events like Festival Holidad or the Champagne of Bands reunion – is to do something different, original, and creative.  One of the main goals of these events to me is to play with people outside my little circle.  In my mind, it’s been a great success – the Cover-Up alone has featured an incredible variety of acts from different circles and different age groups.  We bring out different audiences and expose people to some of the great talent this town has to offer.  In general, I am pretty much in love with the Boston music scene.

That being said – I’m a pretty positive person in general.  I tend to see things through a “glass half full of tasty strawberry Quik” perspective.  Not all local musicians are like this.  Many of them are depressed alcholics with undiagnosed personality disorders.  Some were positive at one time, but had the love of the scene ground out of them by too much time in shitty rock clubs and not enough Vitamin D from the sunlight.  Some are frustrated that their obvious talent isn’t being rewarded with money, fame, adulation, or whatever.  Some are just tired of it all, but don’t know what else to do.  And some are just bitter assholes.

And honestly - that’s cool, too.  That’s their bag.   Convincing someone to be positive about something is one of the more useless wastes of energy of which I can imagine.  There are a ton of us who recognize the greatness and positive support in this lovely Boston music scene.  Last night, I was at the Middle East and saw five amazing bands, hung with a bunch of equally talented friends in the audience, and made connections with new people, planned future shows, etc.  Tonight, I’m going to do it again at the Rosebud (with those controversial assholes Township, no less).  It’s a great life.

Those of us in this scene that work hard, stay positive, and feel like we’re a part of something awesome can’t be discouraged when a band or a writer or a fan shits on us.  They’re seeing it through their shit-colored glasses.  I don’t get mad about it – I just feel bad for them.  By allowing themselves to feel isolated in a sea of potential friends, they’re missing out on a lot of connection, creativity, and love.  Sharing music with others is one of the great joys of my life and I try to appreciate it every day.  And I pity the fools that don’t.

This situation reminds me of an old Chinese proverb.  A man is walking toward a village and sees an old man by the side of the road. 

“Old man,” he says, “What are the people like in this village?”

The old man responds, “What were the people like in your last village?”

“They were wonderful, generous, and kind.  They’d give you the shirt off their backs.”

“You’re in luck,” said the old man, “That’s what the people in this village are like.”

The man smiles and moves on.  A second man approaches the village.

“Old man,” he askes, “What are the people like in this village?”

The old man responds, “What were the people like in your old village?”

“Terrible.  Gossipy, back-biting, and complete untrustworthy.”

“You’re out of luck,” responds the old man, “That’s what the people in this village are like.”

Thus endeth the proverb.   See you out at the shows.