One time, thirty years ago at Karen’s house, after the twins went to bed, Mani told us about returning from a trip in the states and the border guard who targeted him, no doubt stemming from his name sounding not like Monty or Marvin or Melvin. As I recall, Mani explained that the guard didn’t believe he was a philosophy student, and aggressively demanded Mani prove it. He then tried to explain something about Heidegger or Hegel, to demonstrate the truth of his identity. The scene sounded surreal, funny and pathetic. I’ve been both the border guard and the unfairly profiled person in the music business. Sometimes people contact me for lessons because they like something I’ve done on piano or in songwriting, but after realizing I’m self taught or don’t read music, change their mind. They expected me to have different credentials and teach them according to their imagination but not in the way I could. I also aggressively intimidated others because they used click tracks, tuners and drum machines and in those moments of madness convinced myself I was the gatekeeper of what’s true and what’s false, only to realize it was all my bias and those musicians were creative and happy with the means they used to achieve their ends. Who the fuck was I to tell a musician they aren’t a musician?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"