Death Angel is one of my favourite bands of all-time. To this day, the band have an overarching presence in my life. Whenever I sit down to write one of these Huff Post columns or pick up my guitar to write a rock riff, my autographed Death Angel "Frolic" band promo photo hangs framed above my work desk at home as motivation.
I never had much success holding on to mementos. My mom was anything but a hoarder and I was always encouraged to purge. But there is one relic from my childhood that I refused to part with that substantiates all claims that I've been a rocker my whole life. I was never NOT a rocker and this proves it.
Why do people think that others want to hear about their dreams? We all have them. Doesn't that cancel out each other's interest in them? But relaying dreams is like trying to use sign language on the blind. This painful ritual happens to almost everyone every morning of all our lives. We get it -- dreams are bizarre. Big deal.
Grammys are meant to crown the best of the best in music and in 2011 our very own Arcade Fire were it. Arcade Fire are a damn good band, but they're not the best band in the world. That's because the best band in world aren't from Los Angeles or New York or London or Montreal. The best band in the world are from Oslo, Norway and they're called Turbonegro.