When I sing, I let my hair fall back and forth rhythmically. When I reach a particularly high note or a particularly low one, I let my hair fall mysteriously over my face. It is my performance. I need to be true to it, even if it looks very obvious. It is by repeating the obvious that I transcend it. I overcome accusations of pretension through the sheer sincerity in my performance of the obvious.

Sounds fancy I know, but thats how I am.

Anyway, fuck that. When I’m in the shadow of my hair, when I hit that perfect note like I always do in every damn show, I feel my own presence like I never do otherwise. My voice is perfect in my own ear, the microphone’s familiar metallic web held close to my lips, grazing it sometimes.. and I’m truly letting go. For that little moment, there is no one there but me, and the music.

In the shadow of my hair some of me comes alive. It doesn’t go very far, it stays there – me experiencing me. My performance and I become one and the same, as if we’ve always been so.

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