I wish I knew how to make friends with people. It’s not that I’m insecure or afraid, maybe I am, I don’t know. I just stumble on my words when I try to talk to potential friends for the first time. It just seems to come so easily to other people and I just wish to the gods that I could be more like them. I just don’t want to be alone. Loneliness is what got me in so much trouble before. Loneliness is such a dark place that I can’t meet again.
I guess I’ve just had a really bad fucking day. College sucks. Well the social part at least.
Rock ‘n’ roll got its deserved hero. When Jack White stepped up and was like. ‘Watch me devastate your entire fucking industry and all of your expectations of rock with a plastic guitar,’ and his pal on the drums, and literally release records without bass, with beautifully out-of-tune but seriously correct parts. And on analogue equipment with a guy that basically kinda went, ‘Hey, guess what? CDs are over.’ Just at the helm of that. CDs are fucked and everyone is stealing the records on computers. It was like watching everybody in the music industry get what they deserve at the hands of this guy out of Detroit who’s seriously, seriously consumed the power of the mythological shit from Led Zeppelin and the blues elements. I mean think about that rock ‘n’ roll starts with the blues, and the real industrial part of music dies with the blues—with a fucking blues champion. Like all of a sudden here’s this hero and you can’t manufacture what that is … like really you can’t. That’s the sickest story ever.
written by Ryan Adams, on Jack White Uncut (2014)
(Source: atranscriptofheartbreak, via the-real-arabella)