I remember a friend saying that to me in regards to his mid-90’s band breaking up, a band I was in for awhile but not at the time of the un-ceremonious breakup. “The Magic” was a snippet of a drunk conversation between bandmates overheard while on an ill-fated California tour – “They don’t have the magic – WE have the magic!”, referring, I always assumed, to the other younger, lamer, more successful bands they were playing with. I often think with this kind of curmudgeonly attitude myself when confronted with the fact that the band that appears to be 20 years my junior are the ones cleaning up with the popularity, hipness and the majority of the take of the door at any given show while I’m packing up my gear and getting ready to go to work in a few scant hours after a long drive and a short nap. “They don’t have the magic – WE had it tonight! For a few minutes during our set, we had them in the palm of our collective hand and they had to, NEEDED to dig our rock, because WE had the magic, not THEM!” And, thusly, the true rewards of life, not anything you could account for or anything that would pay some bills, but, “the Magic,” the shit we all love, the sublime joy of making some noise in an emotional context that resonates with others. As my friend Vic would say – "Kool story, bro."