meet your heroes

Some time in the year 2000 or 2001 I was made aware of Ozma. The band was referenced in a post from Karl Koch, webmaster at weezer.com, or at least that’s what I can recall. I soon downloaded what I thought was a Weezer song on Napster, a tune titled “Iceland.” I later learned that THIS was actually Ozma! (Coincidentally, I learned about Pavement in this same way…“Here” was misattributed to Weezer as well. Napster was flaky yet did open up music discovery in its own illegal way.)

Sam Goody (how do you know you’re old? You’re about to define Sam Goody) was a music store located in the Wolfchase Galleria in Memphis, approximately 45 minutes from where I lived, but well worth the drive – they had Ozma’s first album, “Rock and Roll Part Three.” I was desperate to buy this CD. I had read a quote from Rivers Cuomo that Ozma was “more Weezer than Weezer.” When I bought the album, I discovered that attribution wasn’t entirely true. Ozma had its own sound. The thick, heavy basslines, chunky rhythms, atmospheric synths, and shredding guitar were similar to Weezer, but while Rivers sang about DnD, this crew was paying homage to Nintendo classics and pining over Natalie Portman (relatable!). I don’t think I could have found a band more attuned to my tastes.

Now let’s rewind to 1995. I was infatuated with Weezer’s Blue Album (the first album I ever purchased with my own money) and the Foo Fighters’ debut. I became music obsessed just after Kurt Cobain died – I remember enjoying Nirvana later, but I was only 11 when Kurt left us. While a Nirvana obsession happened soon after, I soon discovered another influential band that I would love for a lifetime – Garbage.

My school would occasionally send us out from our tiny Mississippi seclusion into the sprawling metropolis of Memphis, specifically the now-defunct Discovery Zone (look it up, I am wasting too many characters explaining things at this point). The arcade/go-kart track/ball pit destination (ahh, I defined it anyway) had a steady flow of Surge on tap and a working Time Crisis 2 cabinet. My friend Trey and I were blasting bad guys when I heard “I’m Only Happy When It Rains” for the first time. I looked over and saw Shirley Manson on a TV screen, heard the heaviness of that first verse, and found kinship in a stranger who also enjoyed a drizzly day. Needless to say, I was hooked on Garbage and would be for life.

So why am I sharing all of this? Because I am, at 41 years old, still obsessed with music. It was that obsession that gave me courage, in many ways, to try my hand at music (wasn’t that great, but it was fun!) and also just confidence in myself. I learned a lot from listening to these people tell me their life stories in song. I felt less alone when Ozma worked through the trauma of a breakup or when Garbage detailed the plight of the less fortunate. I became more understanding and empathetic by listening, and what’s more, those loud guitars are like syrup to me.

It was that obsession that also comforted me when I went through extremely difficult times. I lost jobs, relationships, made poor decisions that made life harder, made right decisions that also made life harder. No matter the circumstance, music was there – specifically these two bands, along with a few choice others. And that obsession was there when I learned I had cancer. In fact, for every appointment I was either listening to Ozma, Weezer, Foo Fighters, or Garbage.

Historically I have never wanted to engage with people in the public eye. Not because I don’t think they’re worthy but moreso because I just don’t know how to do it. What do I say? Is it weird when someone tells you they admire you? But I felt a pull, like these people needed to know that what they’ve created has helped me immensely. Just before I was diagnosed, I’d been on a My Name is Earl-style gratitude tour (My Name is Earl was a television program…no, I’m not doing it!) where I would send anybody I was connected to online an encouraging message and tell them what they meant to me. Even those I felt I was less-than-gracious to in the past, hence the Earl reference. So I decided I would reach out to these bands: Foo Fighters, Garbage, Weezer, and Ozma.

For Foo Fighters, I scoured the internet looking for ways to reach out to Dave, Pat, Nate, Chris, Taylor (RIP)…anyone at all really, but I couldn’t get it. I ended up sending a direct message to the Foos on Instagram, acknowledging I was talking to a paid social media manager (I get it, this is my actual job haha) but asking them to please pass the word along if they could. I have no idea if this happened – I also had invited the band to our wedding in 2015 but they didn’t show! I’m starting to think they never got the invite. I did the same with Weezer and am sure they will get back to me eventually (I love to dream).

Garbage was a different scenario because I knew Shirley was the person who ran the accounts. She and I had interacted a time or two on Instagram in as much as she liked a comment here and there. On Twitter one day she posted about a ridiculous Tennessee book ban, and I responded. She responded back! Here it was, a dialogue. I had just sent her a direct message on Instagram a day before, thanking her for her music and voice and for helping comfort me through the hardest thing in my life, so I figured this was my chance. I replied again, asking Shirley to please check her Instagram DMs. And she did!

Shirley was incredibly sweet, offering encouraging words and reading my story. It meant the world to me. Over the past two years we have had other conversations –she’s checked in on me multiple times, we’ve talked world events, music, whatever. It is always a pleasure to have a minute of her time, and it speaks to the type of person that she is. I’m in a Garbage group on Facebook where numerous people have shared instances of Shirley being kind and giving. And last year I got to see Garbage for the third time playing live… it felt extra special this time (and not just because Butch was there drumming!).

I wrote a message to Ozma’s account as well, thinking perhaps someone would see. Ozma had interacted with me a few times in the past and even followed me on Instagram. I had always been drawn to Daniel Brummel, one of the singers in the band and bass player. In a couple truly cringe moments, I had once messaged Daniel on AOL Instant Messenger in probably 2004 or so, but he was kind enough to write back. I also added him as a friend on Facebook a few years later (why would I do that? I instantly felt lame at the time, but he didn’t delete me).

On the Ozma album “Boomtown,” keyboardist Star Wick sings a song called “Nervous.” I was instantly a fan of the song – it’s pure encouragement while acknowledging the hard realities we all face. I found myself listening to it on walks when I’d feel overwhelmed or anxious about scans – usually there’s a two-week period where I get very antsy (my next scans are on December 12, 7 days from the time of this writing. I’m in that period right now!). I decided to write to Ozma and tell them how much all their music meant to me, specifically “Nervous” right now.

Daniel, as it turned out, was running the account, and he responded to me so graciously and with so much encouragement. Fast forward: I was just able to see Ozma live this past weekend in L.A. They played three shows at the Troubadour, which I will write about in more detail later, but for this already-long post, I will keep it short(ish). At the shows, I was able to meet Star and thank her for her song. It was such a meaningful moment for me – this was night two and my brother and I had just rushed back from Joshua Tree to catch the openers. I ate a veggie burger at the bar and turned around only to see Star standing by the wall. I didn’t even think about saying something, I had to.

Star was extremely kind (common thread here, folks) and asked me how I was doing now. Like Shirley, she truly listened, which is honestly the key to all relationships. It was such a special moment, and hearing her sing “Nervous” twice was a major highlight for me. The next night Ben and I were able to spend time with Daniel. After seeing me just outside the front door of the venue, he walked out and instantly gave me a hug. Ah yes, I thought, one of my people. We talked for 20 minutes and could have talked even longer, except he had a show to do and all. Jose Galvez, guitarist in the band, came by later to chat with us as well, quizzing us on what we liked best about each night’s setlist heading into night three. He was likewise kind, warm, and giving.

All of these interactions have made me feel incredibly grateful. And I don’t think “cancer” was a hook to make it happen either, nor was my intent to use a disease to garner kindness from strangers. I was merely continuing my sharing of gratitude, this time with people I’d never met. I have found that kind people are just kind, regardless, and they care. So even though the saying “never meet your heroes” could be true in many cases, it isn’t always. Instead, we have to examine who we are exalting as heroes. Heroes should be those who exemplify what it means to be a kind human, loving people as they are right now. They’re normal people, celebrities, strangers, family members. If you’re like me, you have many heroes in your life, and I challenge you to let them know they are appreciated. And who knows, you are probably a hero to someone yourself.