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Your dad was in an indie band before you were and he’s written the whining ballads to prove it. He was the Picasso of lyrical metaphors who birthed life into six strings every time he seduced the music from his guitar. To call him a genius is like saying the Swiss Alps are just hills. He was so far ahead of his time that his melodic masterpieces went unappreciated, thus making him the most indie of indie bands because nobody has every heard of him.
So hipsters, when you’re dry-raping the frets in hopes you can “find your sound” and make it so big that hundreds of people know who you are, remember this…
Your dad can give you lessons when you’re ready to finally swallow your pride and ask.
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Your dad shredded guitar before you did and he’s dropped the panties to prove it. He was an amplified six string gun slinger that made sonic love to the air with every note he struck. Each of his strums blasted full volume assaults of awesomeness into listener’s ears and shook rhythm into walls. Marshall half stacks sang his praises as he flash fingered solos across the frets and stole the hearts of all the honeys staring at the stage.
So hipsters, next time you’re ignoring chord theory and sloppily arranging a whining ballad that you hope will break though the apathy of the girl you have a crush on, remember this…
Power chords were just chords before your dad played them.
Special thanks to proutymakesthings on tumblr for today’s photos.

