Author: Brad Beheler

“Man, that song sucks!” That was the response I got as I commandeered the state of the art Pioneer cd player in my buddy’s maroon Pontiac Grand Am to play him the brand new Foo Fighters record that had just come out. That was 25 years ago this week. My peer group was comprised of folks who loved 90’s country like Garth, 90’s hip-hop like Snoop and anything heavy metal. Pantera and Metallica were the top two favorites, but we all loved anything heavy and loud. We were also music snobs without knowing what that meant. Our conversations veered all

I came home from kindergarten one day and told my parents that my “girlfriend” had chased me down on the playground and tried to kiss me. They laughingly asked who she was, I said “Ebbie!” They followed the conversation through by telling me we shouldn’t be doing that.  They didn’t tell me that because Ebbie was African-American.  They told me that because we were five years old. I was raised in a podunk northern suburb of Waco, Texas called Elm Mott. Heart of the Bible Belt, smack dab in the middle of central Texas.  My parents were progressive for the