Prelude to a Lick – Column

Prelude to a Lick

by Scott Hefflon

Foreplay. It’s meant to be playful, uninhibited. It’s meant as an enjoyable trifle, or perhaps a stepping stone to a more serious excursion. “Just for fun,” or a means to get at the meat of the matter, it all varies with individual intent. It depends on what you put into it. The trip has always been there, it’s just a matter of seeing it and wanting to take a ride. It’s user programmable. So come on.

First lick. This magazine was founded on the idea that there is already enough good stuff in Massachusetts to warrant an “underground” state-wide magazine. Oh sure, you can jump the bandwagon and move to whatever locale is hot this week. Great! Just pack up your memories and your soon-to-be-neglected address book and redefine yourself according to the latest trend.

Work up a sweat. But why bother, ya know? Why let media hype determine “what’s hot” for you, and alter your perspective and perception of your surroundings? You’re more than welcome to “Leave the driving” to another and “Fly the friendly” jet set in the new cultural mecca. But again, why bother? Don’t you see the raw potential, the rough-edged building blocks right here just screaming to interlock? At the moment, the blocks are scattered. They literally litter the state. Each has qualities, solidity, and provides a foundation for an elite, local following. But the architecture of the Massachusetts (and Connecticut , and Rhode Island , and New Hampshire ; we’re all ” New England bands” to the big boys) scene is sketchy at best. Lollipop is dedicated to introducing independent sub-contractors, applauding anyone who’s pulled their ass off the couch long enough to do something, and metaphorically speaking, provide the mortar.

Work it, Baby! In isolated settings, each for their own individual reasons, there are artists producing what would be highly respected works if only viewership were higher, so would the quantity of respect, and theoretically, the impact. Until such time, the artists do what they have to for themselves, and keep dreaming about the big break. There are so many out there, myself included, striving to be noticed, trying to make a difference. Not for fame, fortune, or egotism (to which so many would like to cop out and attribute it, rather than actually think about it), it is done for the pride in producing something tangible from pure thought, the identity of recognition for your efforts, and basically, as an excuse to continue milking life for all you can. Some are content merely to exist, some are driven to experience the thrill of living, riding the rollercoaster with hands in the air, embracing every ascension and plummet with squeals of delight and terror at every unexpected turn.

Last lick. We, as human animals, are resigned to the “inevitable” fact of passing through this life into obscurity. Some, however, fight it with everything they’ve got. Me? I just want to explore and celebrate life while I still can.

  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •  
  •