I left that day firmly resolved that I would never get a tattoo. Because that wasn’t rock. That wasn’t rebellion. It was trying to fit in with everybody else. And from that day forward to now, I have never gotten a tattoo. Until last Tuesday…
Having basically come of age during the era that Yacht Rock was birthed, I have some unique insight to this music. For a 16-year-old in southern California, hell-bent on muscle cars and the pursuit of boobs, Yacht Rock was simply known as pop music – the stuff they played on The Mighty 690 AM station, mega-beamed from a zillion-watt blow torch in Tijuana. It was the stuff you had to listen to when your 8-track player was on the fritz.
After two years, 659 broken strings, 522 beers, 120 crushing defeats, 121 amazing comebacks, 7 gin and tonics and 5 broken hearts, the new Flat Jackson album, Pretty Up the Truth, is finally out in the wild
This is the sort of behavior that lands you in Group, as in a Group that starts each session with “My name is John T. and I nearly went emo AF on Facebook with a 1970’s lyric.”