I asked a friend today if they ever said their name aloud to themselves and they said no.
“So you never you say your own name to yourself, like in encouragement of what you’re doing?”
“No, why would I?”
“Never a “Good job, Sean” or “Sean, you bell end”?’
“That’s your name.”
When others say your name it’s affirmation of your identity, in essence you’ve successfully conveyed yourself to that person so that they’ve remembered you and your name: validation. I am me, and you accept that, and acknowledge my existance by using my name. Saying it aloud to yourself is an act of reinforcement then, a mantra possibly. It’s peculiar to think we are born without names and then given them by our parents; nameless at birth, pure of society for only a brief time. Names, in all different ways, can shape our lives: sharing them, giving them, changing them, admiring them too. They divide us culturally, and reveal our ancestry, while having their own styles and fashions. I feel lucky I have a name that’s not phonetic as it’s not immediately obvious how to pronounce it from the spelling. There’s something to that.
This is the second LP by Orquesta Del Desierto, fittingly titled Dos, which dropped way back in 2003, and I have to say I am stunned. I have followed all kinds of hard rock blogs, metal blogs, and mp3 sites, sites dedicated to stoner rock music and festivals; read all kinds of online biographies of each constituent part, a one Alfredo Hernandez of Kyuss and more, a two Pete Stahl of Goatsnake , and goddaddy the third himself Mario Lalli of Fatso Jetson… and never have I heard a squeak about this record. Ever. For shame it took Spotify’s Discovery feature and my heavy listening habit to unearth this sunny gem, perfect for the upcoming summer times ya’ll. This is beach bum music, with plenty of dancealong parts.