Jim Trainer


In Uncategorized on March 6, 2013 at 5:12 pm

13 years ago in Philly I rode my bike down to Spaceboy Records for an unplugged set by Rocket From The Crypt.  They played a song called “Blue Cowboy”.  Said it was a Wipers tune.  That night I caught them at the Khyber Pass.  Back when that town had it.  There was excitement in the air and danger everywhere.  Seeing RFTC back then reaffirmed everything you knew was true, about rock&roll and the streets and our desperate hearts, desperate to love&fight&drink&rock the fuck out.  Desperate to kick back against American isolation with our young idea.  In basements and hollowed out movie theaters and on rooftops and gymnasiums.
It’s always better looking back but I’ll never question the magic I felt on Hostile City streets-dancing and sweating and yelling back down at the Gods.  A new century with a new media to call our very own and listening to WKDU 91.7fm.  Philly was always like the town that time forgot, free from current trends and doin its own stubborn thang.  Heads made it, up&out, but we forgot about them and their Coke commercials, pfft their hometown shout-outs and ignored their calls from graves marked Los Angeles.  We soldiered on, always with something to prove at junkyard art shows and punkrock barbecues.
Then the 21st century clamped DOWN and hard.  Suddenly we found ourselves in the jurisdiction of a world police.  It wouldn’t matter about Philly anymore, or scenes or true love.  Peace in our time, once scattershot and underground, was no longer possible.  It came home to roost in our town and your town, too.  There was always a dividing line but now it meant that you could be sent off to die for lies or b/c you were trying to provide shelter for your loved ones that you’d never get financed or get an education that you’d never be able to afford.

I guess this blog ain’t so  personal after all but it’s my birthday, Jack.  Go write your own blog.
The innocence of youth can never be questioned.  It’s that blood and that idea always in our hearts that can never die.  The cataracts of youth should fall away and half the house will have to come down.  We’ve got blood on our hands and there’s so much suffering in the world.  And worse, I feel a dark hand being pulled in front of our eyes and a cheaper tomorrow on the horizon.  A collective and irresistible dumbing down and a more selective isolation cleaving between us.  What’s mine&yours behind wide walls, zombies through our windows blued with confections of lies.  You’ll see-culture first, everything else soon after.  But now we do it to ourselves.  We always had to and they have trained some of us so very well.
The world needs more rock&roll.  More inclusion.  More eyes opening, looking inside.  More hearts knowing.  All I’m asking for is 38 more.  I will need more time to crank it and nail it down and make this dream real.  There’s so much more that I must do before I’m blown back to dust.  For true.
The last couple decades I been sinking down.  Recovering from the bad confusion over a love I’d found.  I thought you could never live up to it Brother but we both know it was me.  I’m going up on the high plains.  My exile from Philly was just the beginning.  I got some work to do inside.  I’ll see you on the streets motherfucker, another pilgrim gone to temple seeking refuge.



There was madness in any direction, at any hour. You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning.

  1. look for your mail. it’s on the way.

  2. Happy Birthday Jim.

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