Most of you know me as “the meTal guy.”  Many of you know me as “the beer guy”.  Some of you don’t know me at all. You were on the interwebs, and you ended up here. And that’s fair. I drink/brew a lot of beer and listen to quite a bit of metal. By the way, you should check out the new Amon Amarth. Yes, it’s Viking metal, but goddamn, does it deliver

It’s not autographed, but it’s in my basement.

Anyway,  yesterday Prince passed away. Apologies to Joanie Laurer, aka Chyna, (btw I do have her Playboy stashed away, don’t tell the missus), but his passing was kind of a big deal to me. Big enough to dust off the blog. Big enough to break out my guitar, head to town,  and load up on some fresh strings. Beware people, I’m coming back with a vengeance. I used to play a bit more at my last job. Not so much at my current one.  Maybe just the Christmas concert, but anyway, I digress. I guess you could say this whole post is a digression.

Mmm. Maybe I’ve got to slow down.

Anyway, I’m sitting here with a Raspberry Brett from Crooked Stave (see what I did? Minnesota friends, help me out. Some Fulton, Summit, Surly, whatevs. Email me. You know the usual channels.), and I’m wondering why Prince’s passing got to me. More so than Bowie. (Note: I could have done an entire post on him as well, as I likely identify more with Bowie, but he had the “benefit” of passing first.) Then it came to me. Prince demanded perfection out of everyone. He expected everyone’s best. He also expected that same perfection out of himself. He was the perfect example of someone who leads by example. Every performance, he delivered, because it was his duty. “Here’s the show; I won’t let you down.” Small venue, Superbowl. No matter. It was his obligation. You never heard about him stumbling onstage or showing up late. “You wanted a good party, dammit, I’m giving it to you.” I’m not doing a top 10 thing. You all know what he’s done. It’s fantastic shit. Just listen to Sign ‘O The Times and tell me that wasn’t musical genius. Yes, yes, Purple Rain.

He was also socially awkward as fuck. Maybe you were lucky to get a few words out of the dude. After a show, all he wanted to do was groove, and play some pool. I get that. In my “pay the bills” profession, I have to put on a show every day from 9 to 5. I don’t have the option to retreat, but music is often my spaceport. I wanted to say escape instead of spaceport, but maybe swype knows me better than I know myself. I deal with that awkwardness, and it works. I think.

But anyway, back to Prince. Weird dude with insane talent. Insane. Best guitarist? Arguable. Best musician? There’s a short list of people who can just pick up an instrument and master it in a few days. That was his outlet. That was what made him “normal”. If only we were all blessed to have such an outlet.

Ultimately, all I ask is that you embrace the weird. The unusual. The awkward. Lady Gaga, too, while we’re at it. Sure, it’s different, and you may not know how to process it, but that’s OK. We’ve had to do that for centuries.

And listen to the new Amon Amarth. It’s really that good. And I’m brewing “Purple Reign”. A red ale with blueberries. Be ready.