Christopher Sebela

writer, wronger, rearranger

Memories aren’t “tarnished” or “destroyed” (and, motherfucker, if you say “raped” I will straight-up HATE you) by band reunions. That’s not how time works. You’re stepping into a totally different river, if you know what I’m saying. If your memories are so feeble as to be destroyed by old people playing “Damaged” (either “I” or “II”) then you are perhaps experiencing dementia and my deepest sympathy goes out to you and your family. Conversely, artists aren’t owed anything either. You are all free and feral, play in your band as long as you like and go or don’t go to whatever show you like. And if you don’t believe in heroes or gods or masters anyway, what’s the problem with said anti-heroes, demi-gods and serve-the-servant types making a little cash, with, you know, the songs THEY wrote? I swear to Mitra, I feel like a need to rent a blimp that exists to say, “ART IS JUST A JOB” and fly it over every counterculture-nurturing city ‘til motherfuckers get it. If my favorite carpenter ever came out of retirement, I would be delighted.
— Zachary Lipez, Black Flag, Flag and Chuck Dukowski, National Treasure

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