Thank You

So the other evening I was mugged. 3 men approached me following a gig we played in Highland Park. I was silly enough to leave the show alone, guitar in one hand and a bag of equipment in the other. Hobbling back to my car (due to hyper-extending my knee from a bad jump into the audience) they must have targeted me from afar. Assuming, I suppose that either I was an easy target or inebriated. A knife was unleashed and pointed in my face--with directions to hand them my instrument (or as the thug described 'your violin, homie')--which I did. 'I am gonna kill you homie--I am gonna cut you homie'--like a record that I never wanted to hear again. I calmed myself as quickly as humanly possible and figured he might cut me stomach to chin even if I hand him my guitar.

My Taylor 914ce is my baby. I might add it was supposed to accompany me for the rest of my days. She loved me deeply and had my blood where (from bandaged fingertips and shattered nails) a pick guard may have existed on another model. Her strings were dull from the constant attack and I could imagine--in that moment--this was the last time we would have partnered. The thought crossed my mind that this was my final show. So I tentatively watched this young man aim the knife closer, I figured that if I am lucky to get out of here with my life that tomorrow I would enjoy the greatest cup of coffee these taste buds have ever experienced. A car pulled around the corner which led the 3 gents to rush off in a fury. Needless to say, I sighed an air of relief that rivaled the sound of a chorus of angels.

A few days later, this last Sunday to be exact--my family and friends presented me with the single kindest act any collective could offer. They took it upon themselves to raise donations in order to purchase a new Taylor. This was all done in secret and I must say I wept an ocean of appreciation. I am writing this now to thank those precious few who so thoughtfully decided to create grace and good from such a horrendous situation. I thought after the 3 boys left with my guitar--that though you may have taken my instrument--you will never be able to take my music. It is my therapy, my prayer--and here a group of people who take the time to listen, sincerely hear what we as a band do--decided to push me to not accept this negativity but embrace it.

The universe needed that guitar more than I--and in my current optimism I hope that the guy who stole my Taylor from me, gave it to his brother or little sister who has dreams of playing music and can't afford a wooden box with six strings. Or maybe it has landed in a pawn shop and will be purchased by a man looking to give it as a birthday present to a young child who will become someone who will change this world and our outlook with chords and melodies.

Frankly, the gift that these people close to me chose to give--I will never EVER be able to thank enough for the most overwhelming moment in my life. Not because of the financial aspect of the whole ordeal but because you showed me that this music that we adore, that we sweat and bleed for--actually means something dear to you. And that is all I need in this planet. Amongst all the doubt and fear that partners with being a musician in this society of mainstream practicality--there is a marketplace for something original, something strangely authentic, something that will last. My associations with you all has taught me that faith is the only weapon worth wielding. I love you all dearly and can only thank you by singing louder and offering to you all that you have given to me.... only love....

My blessings to my family--may the world learn something from you...

Brian Buckley